First, an admission: I am—and have always been—prone to drama.
This is a shocking revelation, I know. You had no idea.
And yet, even knowing as he does my off-Broadway tendencies, my husband was startled when he read my latest post. “Sheesh,” he said, and I’m quoting him verbatim. “Sheesh.” Because even for me, that post was dramatic.
John went on to joke that I should just tell everyone that I am dying. “You could write, ‘In lieu of flowers, please send cash donations to my husband. Better yet, send eight round-trip tickets to Hawaii.’”
“No way,” I responded.
Though those tickets to Hawaii sure would be sweet.
The truth is: I’m not dying. My husband didn’t have an affair nor is he leaving me for another man; my sons didn’t get caught sneaking out to a Katy Perry concert; my daughters have not become members of the Charlie Sheen* fan club, and my 3-year-old hasn’t run off to join the circus.
Not that he’d need to around here.
All kidding aside, I will say this: what happened in my life…happened, and I really cannot talk about it. The truly beautiful thing is that God can—and will—use our human frailty to redeem us. I referred to this catastrophic event as a “Spiritual September 11th,” which is strong language but fairly accurate. It shook me to my core and I am grateful for that—grateful for this slap in the face of my complacency. I had grown lukewarm and preoccupied, and God—in His mercy—brought me back.
Simcha Fisher, who is one of the best Catholic writers in Church today, puts it another way:
Because we can forget. We’re distractible creatures — yanked around by trivialities and worthy causes alike, all of which help us forget that our lives are an arc, a story line, with a beginning, a middle — and yes, an end. Monks used to keep a human skull on their desks to remind them to get something done while they still have time.
Read more here.
To put it yet another way…
Last night our 3-year-old was goofing around during prayer. He didn’t feel like kneeling at the side of the bed, so he decided to crawl on top of it. He wiggled, he rolled, and eventually he had squirmed around so much that his body slipped down between our bed frame and mattress.
“I ‘tuck,” he told me. “I tan’t det up.”
I pulled him out, thinking how cute he was, and then I thought, “That is just like God and me.
“He thinks I am little and cute. He absolutely loves to pull me up.”
I would like to thank you all for your assurance of prayers. That you are willing to pray for our family (a bunch of strangers! a group of loons from Minnesota!) is a humbling testament to your generosity. Thank you. Your kindness and encouragement are very sustaining, and I intend to pass it on.
Oh, and I offered up my holy hour last Sunday for your intentions!
Did you feel it?
I’d like to close with one last photo—a goofy shot of the drama girl and her ever-growing, ever-blessed, can-You-really-be-sending-me-another-child-at-my-age? belly.
I titled it “A Boy, a Baby Bump, and a Trunkful of Groceries.”
Because I am just that clever.
With love & gratitude for every good gift,
He is such a cutie. Takes after his mama. 😉
That looks like a Sam's Club run. I'm at the point where I need to pass that errand to my husband; just the thought of pushing the cart seems exhausting! I keep thinking 'stock up' now, it won't be as easy in a couple months.
But, you look great (as always, IMHO)!! Glad to read you are feeling a lot of movement…unless that's the reason you are up writing when sleep would be welcome.
I didn't notice the drama in your last post 😉 That's about as close to writing about something that you can't write about, without spilling it all. God knows what he's doing when he sends us our wake-up calls; it's what we do afterwards that matters.
Have a great week, Margaret!
That's so funny, Suzie, because originally I'd titled the photo "A Boy, a Baby Bump, and yet another Sam's Club Run."
I changed my mind, though, because I was too tired after all that shopping to type all of those letters.
"My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness."
2 Cor 12:9
Oh yeah. You know it.
We get the graces when we need them, not when we want them.
Aren't you the baby of the family? I'm sure your husband knows that can only mean drama right?
I see that trunkful and think "Oh, I gotta go to Sam's club this week"
I have to say, you show great restraint in only posting a little of it, and not telling all. With me, it's all or nothing…so there's a lot of nothing right now!
Yep, I agree: I didn't think it siunded dramatic, just honest: a big thing happened that you can't talk about, and that's hard for ys chatty bloggers! {{hugs}} Such a vute bump! 🙂
Okay, really sorry about the strange typos!! I make so many since the brain tumor and on my iPad I can't backspace to fix them in these types of comment boxes!
Hey! I like Martin Sheen!
Charlie Sheen, Faith! I meant to say Charlie Sheen.
I'm fond of father Martin, too.
Margaret, you taught me how to blog!
Have to tell you: a lady in our parish was just blessed with the cutest little baby–her ninth. She's forty-eight! Awesome. God bless you!
Praying for you friend!!! You look beautiful and God is so good to give us moments like this, isn't he?
Hugs from MA from someone who never can stop talking about things that happen. You have way more restraint than I 🙂
Your arms look awesome in that picture!
What a great picture! I didn't think you were overly dramatic at all. Though if you were… I'd love that too. And I love the story about being stuck behind the bed. So can relate to that feeling.