An Rud A Lionas An Tsuil Lionann Se An Croi

A month or so ago I completed a medical survey that asked several questions about my background, specifically my childhood. There were the typical questions about diet and exercise, but also ones that asked about any trauma that may have occurred before I reached adulthood.  Now, I was fortunate to have grown up in a stable two-parent household in upper-middle-class suburbia. My childhood was happy, my needs met. The most traumatic thing I can remember happening before I reached the age of reason was when I got some ants in my pants that then crawled all the way into my underwear (not fun). My life was fairly peaceful and free from worry. So when I came to the question of whether I had ever witnessed someone die in a violent way, I was prepared to click the 'no' circle and move on. Sure, I had seen the aftermath of some bad accidents on the highway, seen the cluster of ambulances and police cars on the scene, but I had never seen someone loaded onto a gurney, bruised and bloodi...

My husband's grandmother recently died. He had the honor of eulogizing her at the funeral Mass, a task he did not take lightly. In the days leading up to the funeral, he agonized over what to say; how does one begin to encapsulate the remarkable life of a woman who lived nearly 98 years? Ultimately he gave a brief summary of her life, the highs and lows, and ended with one of the stories she frequently told that he had transcribed before she started losing some of her memory. I'm glad to say that he made it through without crying - much to his own relief! Since her passing I have thought a lot about what I would like to say about her. I only had the pleasure and privilege of knowing her for 11 or so years; a small fraction of her life, but a good chunk of mine. There is so much that I could say about her, and so much that could be said by others, but I'd like to focus on the two traits I found most admirable about her - her tenderness and her generous spirit - which so ofte...

I had been thinking of rainbows a lot. It was June and companies and merchandisers were taking full advantage of Pride Month by slapping rainbows on everything. On candy, on t-shirts, on make-up, on mail trucks. These Roy G. Biv images were fresh in mind as I took a shower. I thought of the rainbows that frequently appear in our backyard after storms, of the term rainbow baby , of Noah's Ark, of the movie Thumbelina .  " After the rain goes /  There are rainbows /  I'll find my rainbow soon" Was it true that there were always rainbows after horrible storms? The realist-side of me balked at this idea. As I toweled my swollen belly off I mused that while there is always hope, there's not always a happy ending in the Hollywood-sense. Ladybugs and cardinals and orbs of light aren't going to suddenly start appearing everywhere to soothe your broken heart. Tragedies befall people all the time. It's sad, it sucks, but that's the fallen world we live in. Givin...

There's a beautiful picture I've seen posted on social media several times over the last few days. In between the screenshots from the video of George Floyd's horrific death and the photos of rioters interrupting otherwise peaceful protests is this snapshot of a toddler George, fast asleep, and snuggled up against his mother.  It's an image I'm very much familiar with, especially these days as I spend most of my time feeding my one-month-old. So often she falls asleep while eating and I get the joy of gazing down on her peaceful face, perhaps with a big smile similar to Larcenia Floyd's. It's also an image that I see time again in the myriad of depictions of the Virgin Mary and Christ child. In my home, in my church, in my son's school, I see it everywhere. Statues, paintings, refrigerator magnets, artwork from my nieces and nephews. Sometimes Mary is smiling, a small, gentle smile; other times she is gazing wistfully at her son, who is often sleeping...

My husband & a couple others dug the hole. Not the standard six feet. Only three or so. Wide & long enough for the small coffin, with plenty of room to spare.  Before our priest came I stood & looked down at the grave, at the stone we had placed at its head. It sits under a tree that was sent to us from Oklahoma by the father of a dear friend of ours. He passed away only a few months after we received the tree. We weren't sure how it would fare in our climate, but it's so far survived two New England winters. It seemed like an appropriate spot for our little one, the child that will never grow under the tree that grows against the odds. As I stared into the hole I felt suddenly self-conscious. Silly, even. All of this for a child who was only the size of a raspberry. But it didn't matter, not to me, how big or little she had been. Or if she had even been a she. I had carried her for more than 12 weeks; the first eight weeks alive, the next several for as ...

I never thought I'd be sad to put my maternity clothes away. Usually, by the time I do, I'm so sick of wearing them that I don't want to even see them for at least another year or so. Usually when I put them away there's a newborn baby keeping me company. Not this time. After three babies my body & muscles just knew what to do; they softened & gave way to my expanding uterus, making room for the tiny life growing inside. The bump appeared much sooner than it had before that I wondered if I might be carrying twins, & hoped that wasn't the case. Just thinking of having two babies gave me anxiety - thinking of how that would stretch my body, what it would mean if I tried to breastfeed both of them, thinking of having to buy another car seat & crib. But that wasn't the case. By the time I had my first appointment to go over my medical history, get weighed, have my urine checked the baby, the single baby, was already gone, unbeknownst to me. Par...

Is there a song that, no matter how many times you hear it, always gives you goosebumps? For me that song is "The Bells of Notre Dame" from Disney's The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Yes, I'm serious. Earlier this week, on Palm Sunday, my family & I were taking a drive. Our car is an '08 & doesn't have an AUX port, but does have a disc changer so we often resort to listening to a variety of CDs while driving. And, naturally, there is always at least one Disney CD in the mix. That song came on & by the end of it my legs were visibly covered in goosebumps. It made me wonder why that happens: why do we get goosebumps when we hear certain pieces of music? The thought occupied my mind for a bit, but I never came to any conclusions & I resisted the urge to Google it & fall into a Wikipedia blackhole of information on biological reactions to external stimuli. And then I saw the news yesterday about THE Notre Dame. It broke my heart to see those...