Pray with me.

There are so many things to pray about right now. Right when I think maybe my prayer life is lacking so much. I talked with a dear friend today on the phone and she told me something she had heard from Fr. Corapi (of course it has to be brilliant then, right?) and it’s not something I’ve ever, in my life, heard.
The “911 prayer”. You say the “emergency” novena that Mother Teresa (?, if that’s not right, be kind in correction, please!) spoke of (your prayer request and the memorare, nine times in succession) one rosary and one chaplet of Divine Mercy. It’s reported to be most efficacious and, at the very least, helps you to concentrate on prayer and on what it is that you are praying for.

So, I’m asking for prayer people. There are so many things, people, weighing so heavily on my heart right now. The first is a precious unborn little boy that just needs his heart mended. His name is Matthew Karol. His prognosis is fatal without a miracle. Please pray for him. We can do all things in Christ who strengthens us! You can go herefor a special novena to John Paul II that we are praying just for little Matthew. There is a special button there as well that I can’t seem to get to post here. My blog inadequacy is showing.

I have a friend, a beautiful woman, inside and out. She was in a car accident a couple of years ago that left her with a significant brain injury. She has some significant memory loss that’s she’s worked quite hard to recover from. She’s been doing beautifully. It’s a difficult road but she’s been so brave and faithful and I greatly admire her. She’s started not feeling well. Lots of headaches, migraines and such. She’s been to the doc who found no great change in her brain. No stroke, no bleeding, nothing of that sort. Despite that, she’s lost most of her memory again. She’s got about month stored in her brain right now. She has to daily remind herself of her friends and family. She is having to reconstruct, again, who she is and what her life is/was. My heart is aching for her. She could use prayers for strength and courage and healing. Please, please pray for healing.

I think that’s all I’ll bombard you with right now. There are so many more, please remember to pray for all of the unborn, and their parents.

Please pray with me.

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solemn huh?

We went to Veneration of the Cross on Good Friday.  It’s the first time we’ve gone in many years, finally deciding that if we waited until we didn’t have a house full of little ones that we’d never make it.

It’s always beautiful.  It always makes me cry.

Sometimes, as it often is in a large family, you are presented with a situation that will just make you laugh.

Twice.

On Good Friday.

Yep.

First, our one year old has discovered (much to our dismay) how incredibly terrible the echo is in our parish.  It’s bad. The entire diocese, it seems, knows how bad the acoustics are here.  Combine terrible acoustics with an energetic toddler in a quiet moment, and well, you get the picture.  He started shouting in an attempt at a fit, discovered how incredibly wonderful it sounded and just kept going.  At pretty consistent intervals of, oh say, 30 seconds or so, another shout would ring out.  I made a mad dash for the cry room, but didn’t get there before my whole clan could be seen shaking from quashed giggles.

When it was finally time for veneration I came back in and sat down next to the 6 yo (#4).  We were standing, waiting, watching and taking it all in.  He was concentrating so hard, and seemed so serious.  I thought it was so beautiful, he was really moved by what was going on!  Then he leaned over, looked at me and said “mama, it’s a wood cross.”  “yes, it is, of course.  So was the cross that Jesus was nailed to.  That’s why it’s wood here.”  “but mom, it’s a woodcross.”  “yes, yes, you’re right.”  “Mom, we’re going to kiss a WOOD cross!”  “yes, darling, we are shhhhh”

And then it dawns on me.  I have one of those “ah ha” moments people are always talking about.  “Honey” I say “you don’t want to kiss the wood cross do you?”  “no, mama, I don’t”  “you’re afraid you’re going to get splinters, aren’t you???”  “Yes, mama, I am, it’s a wood cross, how are we not?” 

I then explained that Father carried it all the way from the back of the church to where it was now, there in the front and didn’t get one splinter.  I explained that all those people in front of us kissing the cross weren’t getting splinters and then I explained that as long as he didn’t rub his lips on it he should be fine.  He was great with those answers.  He was back to looking so beautifully holy, as only young children can, and I was back to admiring the strength of his faith.

strays

I’m a sucker. 

I will complain and whine about whatever animal is currently annoying me in the house, but the reality is I am a TOTAL sucker when it comes to animals.  Despite the battle the ensues during cage clean up time, or the fight over who gets to hold whom, or the demands that SOMEONE please wash the dog and the complaining that the animals are driving me nuts and I really just don’t need one more thing that poops in this house right now, I am a sucker for em.  Just one glance at “free or shelter bound” will get my attention and tug at my heart strings.

Our dog, total mutt.  Beagle, boxer, poodle mix (yep she looks that weird too.  Almost like a miniature Irish Wolfhound).  A friend’s dog was pregnant when she was brought in to be fixed.  Said friend couldn’t have them just terminate the pregnancy so the puppies were born and I couldn’t NOT take one.  Pathetic I know.

Two guinea pigs.  Know how we got them???  The next door neighbor came over, she was home for the summer from college and brought her two lovely pets she’d aquired while there with her.  Mom and dad wanted nothing to do with the rodents (not that I really blame them.  I had no idea how rodent like they really were) so she came to our house (cause we had kids and she just knew we couldn’t say no.  dang it.) and asked if we would please take them.  She didn’t know what she’d do if we didn’t.  They’re so cute.  Argh!  So, now we have Snickers and Mac.  cute.  In a rodent-y sort of way.

We used to have rabbits.  We love rabbits.  They are NOT rodent like at all.  We were actually going to raise them, Holland Lops.  Beautiful, sweet, loving little creatures that would snuggle up to you and nibble on carrots while you watched tv.  We kept them in the house.  Did I mention how much we liked them????  I didn’t even mind that they shed, just that cute.  Well, one of them got an incurrable disease called snuffles, and the other (our prize baby, the one we loved so much) didn’t not survive the stress of an across state move in August.  We miss him most of all. 

Have you guessed where I’m going with this???  My oldest’s soccer coach sent an email out.  Yep.  You guessed it.  “FREE” Easter Bunnies!  And the most evil thing of all?  She.  sent. pictures.  Sweet little baby bunny pictures.  My heart skipped a beat (did I mention how much I loved bunnies??  Have I said yet that we plan on raising them again someday in the not too distant future?  Have I mentioned how NOT rodent like they are?) they’re so lovely.  Mixed breed so they’re not good for breeding, but oh so sweet little things!  Without a home!!  Homeless bunnies!

Thank heaven (I think) that my husband isn’t so swayed by their adorable faces (yet) or we’d have the whole litter! 

I just need to remind myself that they are just another thing that poops…

number 5 huh?

I give up.
What do you do with a three year old who wakes up ready for a nap???

“Good Morning sweetie, How are you?”
“MY.NAME.ISN’T.SWEETIE”.
“okay. gotcha. Are you ready for breakfast”
“AHHHHHH” that would be screaming “yes.”
It goes on from there. What cereal would you like? This one, ok, I’ll pour this one. Oh. Not this one, clearly. My ears are ringing, but that’s ok because it’s a lovely tune and I so rarely get to listen to bells anymore. Oh wait, we’re doing breakfast, gotcha. I’ll just put this cereal back in the box (Giving the older children the “don’t you dare say a thing!” Look all the while) You want THIS cereal. Ok. Oh. wrong bowl. Ok. Gotcha. Wrong spoon too? Huh. Ok. Yes, yes ok, you pour the milk. watch it, slowly. Nevermind, I’ll just mop later. No biggie, we’ve got another gallon, just please stop crying so loudly.

It’s around the 3rd bowl, fourth cup and second spoon that I start to wonder whether or not I need to break out the holy water. Really.

This could go on until lunch time. I am hopeful that he will decide to get over this whole “not a morning person” thing before he’s thirty. The whole family is hopeful.

The icing on the cake was this evening as he’s skipping out the door to come with me to take big sister to Scouts. He’s just so happy go lucky and sweet, smiling, singing, even saying little prayers “in the name of the fadder, son and hohwey spiwit God I wuv you, it’s a beautifl day. Amen”. I am just smiling from ear to ear as I put him in his car seat and buckle him in, thinking about what a stark contrast this moment is to breakfast this morning, when I decide to comment on it. Looking at my sweet darling angel-faced little boy I say “WOW you are such a happy little guy tonight aren’t you?”

“mama, I’m not happy I’m number 5” (he said his name of course)

Yep, sweetie, you sure are. And I love you all the more for it!