The Zen of Raking

I just finished cutting down all my perennials and raking our front lawn. Quite a job, but one I actually enjoy. I find raking to be calming, almost prayerful, although the wet leaves made it more of a challenge today.

Raking to me is very Zen. Slow and deliberate, a moving meditation. I clear the leaves, all the while knowing that more are falling from the sky and littering the ground behind me, making the raking an effort in futility. It's a little like those Tibetan monks who make sand mandalas and then blow them away. OK, not exactly as labor intensive as that, but if those monks had three kids following them around they'd probably settle for raking over sand mandalas too.

Dennis sees the leaves from a different perspective. He's all about the leaf blower, and quite a leaf blower it is. It requires ear muffs to prevent hearing loss and can blow away not only leaves but small children in its path. That is his preferred mode of leaf clearing. I'll take raking any day. The only thing that really dampened the experience today were the balmy temperatures. Too warm for me. I attempted a jean jacket, but even that had to go. When you're raking leaves in upstate New York in mid-November without so much as a sweatshirt, something is terribly wrong. I'm hoping tomorrow the temperatures will cool, as promised, before I attack the backyard. It's that time of year -- clear everything out, batten down the hatches, take St. Francis and Our Lady of Guadalupe in for the long cold winter. They're not used to New York temps. They winter in our sun porch, saintly snowbirds.

So I'm waiting for the weather to catch up with the season here, a season that, despite the drab skies and warning signs of winter, is incredibly beautiful to me. There's something sacred about this season, this dying time. I love watching the trees shed their leaves, the plants die back to the ground. Everything retreats, waiting for rebirth in a few months. Spring is wonderful with all its bright green and new life but late fall has a wonder all its own. It's like a deep sigh, a spiritual shrug. All things must pass, the visible worlds says. And we nod our heads and hunker down.

Tag, I'm it!

OK, I received my first blog "tag." I feel as though I have arrived! What happens -- in case you don't already know -- is that I am "tagged" by another blogger and given a set of rules and a set of questions. So here we go...

Here are the rules:

1. Link to the person who tagged you. That would be Roxane Salonen at Peace Garden Mama, who is already listed in my "Blogs worth a visit or two" in the left-hand column of this page.
2. Post these rules on your blog (Voila!).
3. Tell about your six quirks (Check the list below. I'm cringing already).
4. Tag six bloggers to do the same. Let's see...Roxane already tagged one of my favorites, so I'll have to work extra hard. I'll be tagging Lemmondrops, Conversion Diary, The Tail End, From the Field of Blue Children, Sustainable Mom, and Happy Catholic.
5. Leave them a comment to let them know you've tagged them.
6. No tag backs.

So...six quirks...I'm sure the people who live with me would find it hard to believe that I could possibly have six quirks, but I'll see if I can surprise them:

1. I like my hot beverages extremely hot. I mean, burn the inside of your throat hot. I have finally found a coffee maker that can produce coffee hot enough for my taste, and I do have taste. It's not just about the heat. Gotta have taste and heat.

2. I have a giant stack of magazines -- Health, Fitness, Vegetarian Times -- on the stereo speaker next to my favorite spot on the couch. If I sit near them, I'm sure to get some benefits, right?

3. I refuse to enter church from the front side entrance. I must enter from the back and walk up the aisle, not down the aisle, much to my family's chagrin.

4. I have a habit of yelling, "Come on, Grandpa," when I'm driving behind someone particularly slow. So much so that Chiara often thinks that her grandfather is actually in the car ahead of us.

5. For the life of me I cannot remember the stations I need to know on TV. Drives Dennis crazy. But even worse, apparently, is the fact that I will sit there watching a show in standard definition when it is available in high def elsewhere. Oh the humanity.

6. I am the rare woman who hates shoe shopping. I have been known to spend an hour in LL Bean, trying on four different hiking boots, climbing their pretend mountain, only to walk out dissatisfied. Duck feet. It's a curse. I buy most of my shoes at Payless, I'm afraid to say.

Words of hope

The Festival of Hope continues over at The Tail End with a very moving reflection by Regina Doman. Click HERE to read "The Story's Loose Ends." I was reading Regina's beautiful essay surrounded by my three children -- one home from school with a sinus infection, one home from school with a pulled neck muscle, and one crying from her upstairs bedroom because she didn't want to nap. I was at my wit's ends, and then I read Regina's story and remembered how blessed I am and how quickly life can change. Suddenly it doesn't seem so stressful having my three children at home with me on a November afternoon asking for hot chocolate and grilled cheese and biscotti and television and monopoly and and and....

Rest in peace, Greta

This has been a very emotional day. We had to put down our beloved dog, Greta, who was 10 1/2 years old and had become very ill very quickly. After a weekend that included a midnight run to an emergency animal clinic and a rapid deterioration of the lovable chow-shepherd who was still often mistaken for a puppy despite her advanced years, today's news was not a surprise. But that doesn't make it any easier, does it?

The kids have been beside themselves with grief all day. They left for school this morning, running to catch the bus with tears streaming down their faces because they had just said good-bye to their dog, something we suggested they do "just in case" because we did not know how the vet visit would unfold. Chiara said good-bye and patted Greta's head before heading off to her nap. When she awoke, the first thing she said was, "Is Greta gone?" The afternoon has been pretty rough -- lots of tears but also lots of reminiscing about our dog, who was very gentle, very friendly, and very patient with children. Everybody loved Greta.

Noah is convinced that there must be dogs in heaven because paradise wouldn't be paradise if something you loved wasn't there. He's got a good point. So we say good-bye to Greta, who sometimes drove us crazy with her barking at the back door but who never failed to be loyal and protective and everything a good dog should be.

Remember those leaves I mentioned...

In yesterday's post I said that the oak leaves had yet to fall. Well, apparently a memo went out last night informing the oak leaves that they should fall at once. Maybe they read the blog. This morning our backyard was ankle deep in oak leaves. Look at the photo at the top of this page and then look at the photo below. That's a difference of about 15 hours and 15,000 leaves.

Friday free for all

Well, after a couple of contentious days in the comment section of NSS, I thought we'd take it down a notch and talk about something other than politics. So here we are. It's Friday afternoon, and I'm just going to let my mind wander:

First. Pet peeves. It really irks me when the person on the arc trainer next to me at the YMCA doesn't have headphones on. This means a. they can hear me huffing and puffing as I struggle to make it to 45 minutes at a cardio-pumping speed and b. they probably hear me singing under my breath to Matchbox 20 or U2 or whatever else I'm blasting into my ears. Of course, I'm guessing that guy next to me today might have a pet peeve about people who insist on singing under their breath when working out in public.

Second. November observations. Look at the photo at the top of this page. Those are the trees in my backyard, looking very mid-November. The oaks are always the last to lose their leaves. The steely gray sky (that's a color photo), the semi-barren branches. So why am I wearing a T-shirt? I feel like I'm back in Austin. So much for a light topic. I have a feeling a global warming debate is about to break out in the comment section any minute.

Third. Prayer update. Remember last week when I asked you to pray for Constance, the 5-year-old with kidney failure? Well, keep those prayers coming. Constance is doing much better than expected. And, while you're at it, I have a few other folks who could use a few good words. Please remember Charlie, a friend of the family who was diagnosed with colon cancer, and Bridget, a young girl who was rushed to the hospital today with an undiagnosed problem. Also keep those prayers coming for Emilie, Kathleen and Maureen, three courageous women who are battling cancer and inspiring us all.

Fourth. The weekend. Go do something fun. Tomorrow I will be with 100 Girl Scouts between the ages of 6 and 14, making Christmas ornaments for a nursing home and other locations. Does this fall into the "do something fun" category? That remains to be seen. Based on past years' experience, I would have to lean toward "no." Imagine six tables of very complicated ornaments that require gluing and stringing beads. Now imagine that every time you are halfway done with your ornament, someone rings a bell and tells you to move to the next station. I wonder if that's what it's like for Santa's elves.

What an awesome system

Whether you voted for Barack Obama or not, you have to admit that it was a pretty powerful thing to watch democracy at work yesterday. Seeing the long lines of voters in other parts of the country, the cheering throngs at rallies last night, the peaceful transition of a people from one president to another is so moving to me. I feel that way almost every Election Day. Every year it's a reminder that this is one awesome system of government we've got here. This year the emotions ran a lot higher imagining what this decision much have meant to African-Americans who wondered if and when they'd ever see this day.

That being said, I am deeply concerned about what will happen to the unborn in the years ahead. As we sat and watched the election returns and it became clear that Obama would win, Noah turned to me and said, "But soon our federal tax money will pay for abortions. What do we do now?" We reminded him that, unfortunately, our state tax dollars are already being used to take the lives of the unborn. It was a poignant moment, one when I tried to walk a delicate balance of explaining our family's unwavering support of human life from conception until natural death no matter what and of explaining that our president is our president and we respect the office and the man no matter what and pray that he will do the right thing when the time comes, although I'm not too hopeful considering Obama'a extremist record when it comes to abortion. If, as Obama has promised, he will sign the Freedom of Choice Act as his first order of business, it will mean completely unrestricted abortion at every stage of pregnancy with absolutely no limitations, no ability for those who are morally opposed to keep their tax dollars from paying for abortions, and no way for doctors and nurses to opt out of performing what they view as tantamount to murder. I won't get into his position on partial-birth and born alive, and don't tell me he didn't do what he did, because he did and it counted and it mattered. Anyone who votes against giving care to a newborn who survives abortion -- no matter what the legalistic reasoning -- is wrong, wrong, wrong.

So...there you have it. I can appreciate the magnitude of what happened yesterday. I can tear up with emotion over what it means that this country elected its first African-American president. But I cannot check my conscience at the door just to try to make history. This was a tough election for me, but in the end I had to stand on the side of life, and I will continue to do so even if our president and our Congress do not.

Don't forget to vote!

I don't know how you could possibly forget, but you never know. I just returned from what must be the quietest polling place in America. It was so deserted, in fact, that when I pulled into the empty parking lot I stopped for a moment to consider whether they might have changed my polling place without giving me the forwarding address. Nope. The little American flag at the door caught my eye. I was the only person voting. It took me all of 30 seconds. As I was leaving, another woman with a toddler in tow was looking around questioningly as she got out of her car. I assured her that the polling place was open despite the lack of crowds.

Just think, it will all be over in a few short hours. Make sure you don't miss your chance to be heard. Vote. Now.

And, if you've got an Election Day story to share, or a prediction, please do so in the comment section.

Have you made your choice?

Tomorrow is the big day. Before you walk into that voting booth, take a few minutes to watch this powerful video from catholicvote.com. Thanks to my friend Maria Ruiz Scaperlanda for the heads up on this one.

Day of the dead

Today is the day we remember the dead -- All Souls' Day, or, in Mexican tradition, Dia de los Muertos. And despite sounding somewhat morbid to this death-denying society of ours, this day is anything but sad. It is about connection to the family and friends who have died but live on eternally. It is about resurrection. It is about hope.

When I was waiting for Mass to begin this morning, I was reading my Magnificat and came upon Pope Benedict XVI's moving explanation of purgatory, which of course ties in directly to this day when we pray for those who have died and are perhaps waiting for that moment in eternity when they will finally see the face of God:

"I would go so far as to say that if there was no purgatory, then we would have to invent it, for who would dare say of himself that he was able to stand directly before God. And yet we don't want to be, to use an image from Scripture, 'a pot that turned out wrong,' that has to be thrown away; we want to be able to be put right. Purgatory basically means that God can put the pieces back together again. That he can cleanse us in such a way that we are able to be with him and stand there in the fullness of life. Purgatory strips off from one person what is unbearable and from another the inability to bear certain things, so that in each of them a pure heart is revealed, and we can see that we all belong together in one enormous symphony of being." -- Pope Benedict XVI

As usual, the pope manages to put in simple but eloquent terms a concept that most non-Catholics and many Catholics find difficult to understand. I have always loved the teaching on purgatory. To me it is such a hopeful and common-sense belief. What could be more hopeful and comforting than the knowledge that even after death all is not lost. We can continue to grow toward perfection, toward the time when we are ready to meet our Maker.

Head on over to my own Catechism Corner by clicking HERE to read my take on purgatory from The Complete Idiot's Guide to the Catholic Catechism.

And, if you want to know more about Dia de los Muertos, I must defer to the late Ann Ball, a wonderful Catholic writer who died earlier this year. Click HERE to go to Ann's Web site, which is still up and running and providing all of us with much-needed information and inspiration on so many Catholic traditions.

Join the Festival of Hope

Today marks the beginning of the Festival of Hope over at The Tail End. A big shout out to author Barry Michaels, who has invited Christian writers -- including yours truly -- to serve as guest bloggers throughout the month of November. Every day you'll get another serving of hope, something we could all use a little more of these days. To top it off, Barry will be giving away a whole slew of books (including my Complete Idiot's Guide to the Catholic Catechism) from now until the festival ends on Nov. 30, the first day of Advent.

In case you're wondering how Barry came up with this theme and why now, it's simple, really. Barry's latest book, Your Guide to Spe Salvi: Saved in Hope, serves as a companion to Pope Benedict XVI's encyclical Spe Salvi, which will mark its one-year anniversary on the last day of the festival. It's one big circle of hope.

So join us by clicking HERE now.

My little goblins

Another Halloween is over. We've got three tired kids and a ton of candy. We should be set until Easter in terms of chocolate. Here's how things looked before we set out.
That's Hannah Montana, a little ballerina, and a dementor...

Halloween: The Sequel

OK, I almost didn't post this video clip because I figured that if you take the time to watch this, you probably won't have time to read my other Halloween post from earlier today. But, it's a timely, informative and funny clip about Halloween and All Saints' Day by one of my favorite writers, Jesuit Father James Martin, so I just had to post it. Just promise me you'll read the post before it as well. Deal? Deal.

And thanks to Barry at The Tail End for the heads up on this one.

Boo!!!

Halloween is in full force here, even if the costumes are still on hangers. By the time Chiara and I had finished our errands this morning, she had a pocketful of chocolate thanks to the bank teller, the woman at the dry cleaners, and the produce person, of all people, at the grocery store. You'd think she'd be handing out carrots or bananas or something freshly grown. Add all that to the big tin of ghost cookies that Chiara received from her Uncle Bill via UPS and you've got quite a sugar rush in the making before anyone even utters the words "trick or treat."

I have to admit that, in terms of costumes, we've had it pretty easy this year. Noah is going to be what he was last year: a "dementor" from the Harry Potter books and movies. It's a pretty scary-looking costume, and, if you've read the books, a pretty scary concept in general. Dementors basically suck your soul out of you. They take away all your joy. I look at the costume as a modern-day version of a vampire or ghost. But, alas, when I went to daily Mass at noon today, and our pastor asked Noah, who was serving as acolyte, what he was going to be, the word "dementor" seemed to echo off the chapel walls and hit me in the head over and over. I felt myself slinking down in my chair. Nothing makes dementor sound even worse than it is than saying it right from the chapel altar. It was a proud moment for me as a parent.

Our other costume choices are much more sedate and charming. Chiara is going to be a ballerina using Olivia's outfit from a ballet dance recital years ago, and Olivia is going to be Hannah Montana using last year's hip hop dance recital outfit, although she does have an "official" Hannah Montana wig, and we braved the ransacked costume aisles at Wal-Mart last night in search of a sparkly microphone and a sufficiently hip jacket to go with the costume. We got both after some significant searching, and, although I really despise going to Wal-Mart, I have to say that last night I was happy to be in a store that was selling costumes that look like they belong on children because that is certainly not the case elsewhere.

It was just last weekend that I opened our Sunday paper and had to hide the party store flyer advertising costumes because the outfits -- even for 8-year-old girls -- were so suggestive that it made my stomach turn. If you don't have children or haven't seen one of these flyers, let me tell you, Halloween ain't what it used to be, folks. Children's costumes, specifically girls' costumes, have been hypersexualized to a point of disgrace. If you are foolish enough to allow your fourth-grader to dress up as a French maid, I don't have much sympathy for you. But, if your daughter wants to be Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz or Snow White or some other sweet little princess-like character, beware. Many of these costumes have been trimmed down and tarted up to the point that Dorothy no longer looks fit for the yellow brick road. Today's tiny Dorothys look ready for only one road -- 42nd Street in the pre-Giuliani days.

The dresses are micro-minis. The tights have been transformed into thigh-high fishnets. Usually the midriffs are bare and the neckline is plunging. And we wonder why our kids are so sexually advanced. Gee, I don't know where they'd get that overly sexualized view of themselves. Or, in the case of boys, of the girls next door. Of course, if you flip the page over to the adult-size costumes, you can see where your little pop-tart Dorothy might end up one day. I don't think we're in Kansas anymore! If you are a woman and you want to buy a costume that does not look like it should come with a pole, then you're pretty much limited to the nun costume, which in some ways is just as outrageous as all the other fantasy costumes since there are probably as many nuns in this style habit as there are nurses running around in fishnets and short-shorts. What a world. What a world.

Magic in the air

If you'd like a little late October inspiration, head over to Peace Garden Mama by clicking HERE and read Roxane's beautiful ode to a few steadfast autumn leaves. It's definitely worth the trip across cyberspace.