Daybook during Musical Week

Outside My Window

Our Mary garden is outside the window over the sink. The peonies were a bust this year, but everything else seems to be coming on strong: astilbe, echinacea, phlox, lupines, assorted other flowers I’m sure I’ve forgotten, and an abundance of mint!

Last night, while walking in the very back of the garden, we discovered that our cherry trees are full of cherries! This is a first. We’ve never noticed fruit on these trees. We lost several trees back there to the water issues. It’s nice that these two are flourishing.

I am so Grateful for

Opportunities for my children to be surrounded by holy examples who live the faith day in and day out without exception or compromise.

I'm Pondering

 “The thing that is really hard, and really amazing, is giving up on being perfect and beginning the work of becoming yourself.” —Anna Quindlen

I am Reading:

The Anatomy of Anxiety. This is my second time through. I’m incorporating some of the things articulated here in the new, improved Take Up & Be Well series, launching later this summer.

And I just finished Tara Road by Maeve Binchy. What strikes me after reading over a dozen British and Irish novels this year is the preponderance of male characters who have mistresses as a matter of course and who think setting up two families is a thing civilized people do.

And Grow Your Own Medicine as I dig deep (pardon the pun) into herbal remedies and plant some new medicinal herbs with intention.

so many children and costumes and moving pieces—and yet it’s not chaotic

I am Thinking

As I watch younger moms juggle babies and toddlers and big kids and try to be all the things for all of them, I want to assure them that it gets easier. But I can’t.

I don’t.

Because I don’t think it does get easier. It gets different. In a lot of ways, it gets more challenging. It’s as if all the challenges of the younger years are designed to get you fit for the ones to come.

I was talking to an older mom yesterday about the choice we make to be peaceful with the way things turned out or to be bitter. For some people, it is easy to be at peace. For others, the choice is the crucible where holiness is forged.

I am Creating:

Skincare. I’m still on a quest to replace my favorite Beautycounter products and to share with you, but one of my daughters-in-law offhandedly commented that we could all just use my healing salve when we run out of Beautycounter. I haven’t really run out of anything yet, and I do plan to use it all because wasting it to jump to something new seems silly. But, I’m a big fan of facial oils and those are all nearly gone, so I’m playing with some things I think will nicely fill my desire for a rich, aromatic oil that will be good for my skin and 100% pure. I’ll let you know how it goes. (I don’t have any notion of selling this, by the way. But I’ll be happy to provide a recipe if I can get it right.)

Late edit: Karoline confessed this morning that her tears yesterday morning were prompted by pumping her Soft Cream bottle and getting… nothing. It’s not so much about the product—though that appears to be irreplaceable—it’s the era we had loving these things together. Then again, I think we’re learning detachment together, so there is that.

Incidentally, these are great for getting every last drop out of the bottle.

In my ear:

I recently listened to The CBD Bible as I seek to update my herbal medicine knowledge base. With the passage of the 2018 Farm Bill, hemp became a legal option to add to the herbal wellness repertoire. Of course, most of us were super wary because hemp is associated with marijuana, and weed gets you high—today’s weed can get you pretty serious paranoia, too. No one hates THC (the psychoactive agent in marijuana) more than I do. But CBD--from the flower of the hemp plant specially bred for optimizing CBD and minimizing THC to non-discernible levels—looks like it can be a viable option in an alternative medicine repertoire, particularly when it comes to plain, sleep, and anxious feelings. The industry is like the Wild West, though. If we thought the personal care and cosmetic business was unregulated, the business of hemp is even crazier. But the research is fascinating, and I’m learning a lot. Not quite ready with links and recommendations yet, but pretty close.

Towards a Real Education:

These are the days which are the happiest of my girls’ school year. We spend all day, every day for two weeks in the company of 150+ other happy Catholics creating a beautiful musical performance. We’ve been blessed with plenty of fresh air and sunshine and the space is filled with song. What more could we want?

Towards Rhythm and Beauty

My “job” during these weeks is to spend my days tending the gorgeous shop on the property. I move between indoors and outdoor displays. There are shelves upon shelves of really good books. And there are art and jewelry and lovely gifts. I’m surrounded by beauty indoors and out. If I work at it just a little, I can persuade myself that this is a retreat.

Late edit: My job this morning was to supervise the installation of a porta-potty. So I guess it’s not all beauty and loveliness. (Though it IS a very nice porta-potty.)

To Live the Liturgy

Last month, I spent some time with my friend Kate in Virginia. Among so many other things, we talked about the Sacred Heart. Kate has had a devotion to the Sacred Heart for as long as I’ve known her. It’s a devotion I came to late. Kate sent me home with an image to enthrone in my house. It’s dear and precious because she gave it to me, and it’s compelling in part because of her witness to the graciousness of his heart, especially for the suffering.

I am Hoping and Praying

Someone I love as if he were my sixth son is facing some formidable health challenges this summer. He has a tremendous struggle in front of him and a steep hill to climb back to health. In your mercy, please pray for him.

In the Garden

All the dahlias are in and we’re beginning to see sprouts. I’m going to be endlessly delighted this summer as the tubers I saved from last year continue to grow. In years past, I followed all the careful storage instructions. I cleaned them and divided them and stored them in vermiculite in a not-too-hot, not-too-cold trying-to-be-perfect environment. They rotted or they withered. This year, I dug them up, left them dirty in a wheelbarrow and forgot about them in the garage. When it came time to plant, I looked for tubers that had sprouts, didn’t divide much, and stuck them in the ground. So far, they’re doing beautifully!

Also, my cilantro is looking lush. I could never get cilantro to grow in Virginia.

costuming in the backyard

hair and makeup by the pool

Around the House

I have not been home much, so I’m trying to hustle in the mornings and evenings to keep up with laundry and dusting—always dusting. When a house doesn’t have central heating and cooling, it also doesn’t have central filtration. So all that dust settles all the time. That’s why old houses are dusty even if they have “new” people cleaning ferociously. It’s going to be a quick scramble before we head out on Friday to be sure all the beds are reset and we’re ready for the influx of big siblings here to see the show. It’s fun to fill it up. So fun.  

From the Kitchen

This is my favorite thing to bring to a party as a dip. It’s also my absolute favorite pasta sauce. It’s summer in a bowl. Celebrate the first of the tomatoes: Make it early and often.  

Popping Tomatoes and Warm Feta Pasta

INGREDIENTS

• 4 cups cherry or grape tomatoes (multi-colored is nice)

• 1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil

• 2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

• 2 teaspoons honey

• 6 cloves garlic, sliced very thinly

• 1 tablespoon lemon zest

• 2 tablespoons Trader Joe’s Soffritto seasoning blend (It’s a spice blend of crispy onions, sun-dried tomatoes, sea salt, garlic, red peppers, chili flakes, parsley, rosemary, and sage.)

• 16 ounces feta cheese, cubed

• 1/2 cup fresh basil

• 1 pound dried linguine

TO DO:

1. Put a pot of water on to boil for the pasta. And then cook the pasta.

2. Preheat the oven to 450° F.

3. In a baking dish, combine the tomatoes, olive oil, vinegar, honey, lemon, and soffritto seasoning, and garlic. Bake for 15-20 minutes, or until the tomatoes begin to burst and the oil is sizzling.

4. Meanwhile, cube the feta cheese and arrange it in a shallow serving bowl. Lightly crumble half of the feta cubes.

5. Spoon the warm tomatoes and oil over the feta. Season with additional sea salt and black pepper.

6. Ladle 3/4 cup of the pasta water into the bowl.

7. Drain the pasta, and add it to the sauce mixture. Toss.

8. Garnish lavishly with fresh basil.

*Note: If you stop after step five, you can serve this as a dip with crusty bread and call it all good. It works beautifully for a party dip.

Feeding tugboat the donkey during rehearsal, as one does.

One of My Favorite Things

Merit makeup. Yes, it’s true. My girls have finally worn me down, and we’ve tried some Merit products. They are quite nice! I still have plenty of Beautycounter, with the exception of brow gel. I like Merit’s brow gel and mascara better than Beautycounter’s . But what I really love is the blush in the shade Beverly Hills. It’s truly the perfect shade for me. So even thought I have Beautycounter blush, I find myself reaching for the Merit blush—and loving it more than I thought possible.  Also, I’ve notice that my Merit lipstick in Ginger has disappeared. I also noticed it’s the perfect shade for Sarah;-).

I’ve always been a makeup minimalist, even more so in the summer. Lately, I’m skipping foundation altogether and using blush, mascara, and lip gloss only some days—when the feeling strikes. I admit to really loving the simplicity.

A Few Plans for the Rest of the Week

It’s all about the play this week. Siblings will visit. We’ll have late-night cast parties that segue into Father’s Day celebrations. And then, on Monday, there will be a day devoted to striking the set and cleaning it all up.

And then, her junior year will really be over and my sweet Karoline will be a senior.

Picture thoughts: all the pictures this week are from the place where we have our play.

Let's Do a Daybook!

Outside my window There is a glorious old Horse Chestnut tree. It blooms around Memorial Day every year, so it was in bloom the first weekend we came to the house. The view from my bedroom window is so pretty. The wavy glass only makes it dreamier.

The view from inside that I see most often these days is through the French doors in the room we call “The Balcony Room.” As much as I’d love to, I can’t work outside, but with both these doors flung open, it’s pretty close. This room is bright and cheerful and very small. It was a dressing room when we moved in—with its own closet and two doors to the hallway. I moved a small drop-down desk in there. It serves as a bedside table for guests, but I shuffle it around the room depending on the light for my own use. There is only one outlet, so sometimes I’m creative with things requiring electricity. The breeze keeps the room fairly cool and stirs the air so that it doesn’t feel too sticky, despite the lack of air conditioning. All in all, it’s a good way to feel as if one is outside when actually she is at her desk.

I am so Grateful for

Local friends. I worried about friends when we moved. And I worried about the church. Mostly, people told me to worry. Turns out, we have lovely friends and we enjoy them so much. There are good, strong shoulders to lean on and holy people with which to do life. 

I'm Pondering

I was quiet, but I was not blind.

― Jane Austen, Mansfield Park

I am Reading:

I have fallen deep into the well that is Rosamunde Pilcher. I mentioned this on Instagram a few weeks ago and discovered I’m not the only one. I read The Shell Seekers first and it’s my favorite so far. I have 14 hours left in Coming Home. It's a significant commitment because it’s more than 40 hours! I put it aside for a while just a few hours in because of a scene I found really troubling. A friend who had read it and was confident I would feel decent resolution persuaded me to push on, and I’m so glad I did.

I am Thinking

That very few things in life turn out the way we thought they would. It’s all a surprise—sometimes small diversions from the path you thought you’d be on, sometimes large plot twists. I can’t imagine navigating these without faith. All the more reason to do whatever we can to help our children embrace faith for themselves. 

I am Creating:

I’m working on a Lent booklet, the kind you find for free in the back of the church on Ash Wednesday. I just finished writing, and I’m glad. It’s always a little disorienting to be writing outside the current liturgical season.

In my ear:

In the spirit of Charlotte Mason, I have three books going: The Nature Fix, Wordsworth, and Coming Home. The Nature Fix is fascinating science about why nature makes us healthier and more creative. Ironically, it’s compelling me to not listen to something on Audible every time I walk. 

Towards a Real Education:

As the term comes to an end, I’m as busy as the next mom with all things May and early June. But I have a sense of poignancy that I can’t seem to shake. Our homeschool co-op graduation was at the end of last week—the last one before it’s our turn. With every graduation, the class holds kids I’m genuinely sorry to see leave. This one is no different. And I watch Karoline. She was bereft last year when a whole gang of her closest friends left for colleges flung far and wide. This year, it’s her go-to best bud, the boy who could be counted on to cheer her up and stir out of her melancholy. He will be going very far away, indeed. Her own class is very small. But we will keep busy doing all those things that we said we’d always do, but somehow never go to. This is our last year to do them—the last chance.

In my ear:

In the spirit of Charlotte Mason, I have three books going: The Nature Fix (free with an Audible membership), Wordsworth, and Coming Home. The Nature Fix is fascinating science about why nature makes us healthier and more creative. Ironically, it’s compelling me to not listen to something on Audible every time I walk. 

I love to walk this way in the morning

Towards Rhythm and Beauty

Rhythm is evading me here at the end of spring, on the brink of summer. Our grown kids are coming in spurts. And for some reason, I seem to never know when. I keep telling myself we’ll settle in, and the we don’t. The first two weeks of June are dedicated to all-day, every day rehearsals for the June musical. There will be rhythm imposed for sure.

To Live the Liturgy

For some reason, our parish always brings in the Mary statue only for the month of May. It’s a lovely statute and I’m so glad she’s there! I’ll be sorry to see her go.

I am Hoping and Praying

My prayers are unceasing. One thing we discussed in the Take Up Membership last month is how telling our prayers are. The thing you pray for incessantly? It’s often the thing you’re holding tightly, failing to surrender. Now, I’m just praying for the grace to surrender and for an infusion of hope.

In the Garden

My whole backyard is a garden—it’s truly an Enlgish garden come to life here in New England. In the spring, it requires an enormous amount of work. My husband is doing most of it. Hours and hours of labor to eradicate the weeds and shore up the plants and get rid of debris. and then there is the extensive system of elaborate drains that just went in. Hopefully, we won’t live on lakefront property this summer the way we did last year.

It’s just beginning to look amazing. The roses, in particular, are beautiful this time of year.

One caveat to keep it real: the peonies in my garden were kind of disappointing this year. Very few buds, and not many blooms at all. Does anyone know why?

Around the House

I finally finished the big blanket switch. This house is very old and not very well insulated at all. In the winter, we pile on the blankets. In the summer—in the absence of air-conditioning—the beds get a very light touch: the crispest of sheets, the lightest of coverlets. And then we look for space in closets and under the beds for all those bulky blankets.

From the Kitchen

This week and next, I will be out of the house all day, every day. Thankfully, Nick and katie are both in town this week, so they are trading off dinner duty. We’ll eat well and get to try some new recipes. So fun.

A Few Plans for the Rest of the Week

Nick came in on Friday. I am so happy he is here. I know this summer is his last hurrah! He begins a “real job” in September, and there will be no more long holidays in the summer and at Christmas. It’s a thought I don’t let myself think about too long. We’ve been apart so much these last four years; it’s hard to imagine seeing even less of him. He’s come a long way from the boy who refused to do algebra (and much else) his junior year of high school. Despite formidable health struggles, he graduated in three years and collected a Master’s degree in accounting this month. Not bad for the boy who shunned math.

Here’s what’s happening this month in the membership community. Join us here. It won’t be the same without you.

hydrangeas loading

One of My Favorite Things

Walks at sunrise. Whatever the weather, I’m out there. First I take one dog, then the other. If the third appears and begs to go when I get back with the second, I take him, also. I cannot manage more than one at a time. And that last one always gets me to run! I live on a busy street, and the sound of traffic is a nearly constant drone. But in the earliest morning, just as the sun comes up, it’s quieter. The air smells sweet. You can literally smell the flowers on the breeze! It’s such a lovely neighborhood. The daffodils gave way to tulips. Just as the tulips faded, it was time for lilacs and rhododendrons. And now, the peonies and roses are budding, with a few early blooms promising what is next. I can see hydrangeas beginning to leaf out, tiny green buds suggesting that summer won’t be without color. Springtime in New England is definitely one of my favorite things.

A Picture Thought

the view from my church across the soccer field to the cemetery and the river just beyond

In the Pause: Come take a walk with me

Last week, I posted some thoughts to my Instagram stories that I want to capture here—and I want to expand on those as well.

There are people who thrive on social interaction, on crowds, on constant information and stimulation. I thrive in the quiet. I thrive out-of-doors. I thrive when I am in motion—but gentle motion, like a brisk walk with lots of permission to stop and take photos or smell lilacs. When Beautycounter shut down, we all listened to the same message. Some people heard a call to action. I heard only the word “pause.” In hindsight, I should have just sat with my word—the word that most stood out to me. I should have listened to the word.

Instead, I tried fix everything all at once. I saw a need. What will people do? How can I serve the people I’ve loved these last three years and find something else that encourages self-care so well? How can I replace lost income? I heard so many messages, read so much information, received and opened and examined the contents of so many boxes! It was all happening so fast—so many moving pieces and people. But I wanted time: time to thoughtfully order products, time to receive them, time to test them and to see how they fared over time. I could not keep up.

And here, despite listening so very carefully to so many people in the “health space,” despite being so determined to find only the cleanest of clean products from household cleaners to skin care to nutritionals, I found myself early Tuesday morning staring at a smoothie made of the stuff of anaphylaxis. Thoroughly tired and still hurrying, I had made it for myself from products sent to me by a new company. I perused the labels as I prepared to sip. Every single packet—every flavor—has banana powder in it. When I was 10, I ate a banana and ended up in the ER becoming acquainted with epinephrine shots. How did I miss the banana? Even though it seems objectively good, this product line is not for me. I am limited by my allergy, something outside my control. Today, I am grateful for the Gift of Limitations (both the book and my actual limitations). I’m grateful to have hit a wall, to be hemmed in, to be able to choose to embrace the pause however uncomfortable it may be at first.

There has been such a fruitful conversation lately about what phone use and social media is doing to our kids. That generation doesn’t have a monopoly on anxiety. The barrage of information and the “crowds” are overwhelming. Grown-up brains are not immune. They can grow and change, too. Neuroplasticity is not just for the young. My brain is tired. My children are watching. For a long time now, I have felt like I cannot keep up with the speed of social media. I was feeling overwhelmed all the time, completely sucked dry of any creativity or ease. And the whole Beautycounter plight accelerated everything to a speed that made me physically ill.

The fences went up. Whether I wanted to keep trying to keep up or not, I could not. Body, mind, and soul—all three begged me to please hear and heed the call to pause.

Like every other person who posts anything to the internet, I only expose a fraction of my life. This is not nefarious. It is only what is possible. No one can reveal her whole self, and some of us have learned just how much is good. We likely learned it the hard way. My life is full of challenges that limit my time to write, my time to research, my time to market, my time to create. And more often than I would care to admit, these challenges have frustrated me to tears. What could I be or do if only I were not limited by the realities of the impediments to my larger-than-possible imagination? This whole Beautycounter crisis? It amplified for me the incessant noise already creating a dissonant cacophony in my head. I had no choice but to see that there was indeed a hedge around me, separating what was truly possible for me and grandiose ideas that were not. I cannot keep pace with the social life of the internet and remain healthy.

And yet.

Writing (and sharing what I write with safe people) is one of

the most life-giving things I can do.

I know this about myself.

As I walked in the early morning, I tried to puzzle this all out: how to hold on to the good, the true, and the beautiful here inside my fenceline? How to inhale deeply and also exhale completely? How to be authentic and life-giving and healthy and whole? How to practice self-care that cannot be packaged in a pretty pink jar or foil lined bag? How to fully lean in to who I was created to be, at peace with all the other iterations not available to me?

Can I do that? In a world full of opportunity, where information is so easily accessible, can I limit myself because it’s in the limits that I will truly flourish? What does that look like? If that is genuine care for myself, how do I open that bottle?

I intend to find out.

I sat to put this post together and I scrolled through my camera roll, looking at the images I’d taken on my many sunrise walks in the last week. I live in an extraordinary neighborhood. Around every corner in the early spring mornings, the air smells like lilacs and the landscape is one breathtaking shot after another. Perusing photos with this post in mind, I noticed something: nearly every picture had a fence in it. Some were picket fences. Some were iron fences. Some were old stone walls. In every picture, the fences added dimension and interest and beauty. The fences were beautiful!

Could I look at fences differently, henceforth? Could I see them not as objects of restraint or prohibition or restriction, but as the beautiful boundary inside which to bloom? Could the fence be beautiful and the space inside the fence also be beautiful? There is ample room here inside the fenceline. There is a lot of good here. Let’s see what will grow.

About something that Viktor Frankl wrote, Stephen Covey said, “Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.”

We have to pause in order to take up that space between stimulus and response. We have to be in the space for a bit. If we don’t—if we just keep responding without pausing—we relinquish our freedom and our ability to truly grow.

The word is pause.

I hear it now.

I’m listening.

Looking for conversation in real time with real people—face-to-face? We deeply ponder things here—things to make us happier, healthier, holier.

Join us this month in the the Take Up community.

Lent is a Marathon, not a Sprint

Lent is a marathon. I think that we often get to third week or so and start to recognize that it’s a marathon, but that we approached it from the beginning as if it were a sprint. We set lofty goals, and we went after them with great ardor. And now, we’re spent. Our resolutions are looking a little rough around the edges. We’re discouraged because we’re not making the spiritual progress we’d hoped to make, but the calendar is marching onward towards Easter. 

The battle for Lent is being waged in our heads—that’s where most marathons are finished, or not. In an effort throw off the trappings of the world and to put on the love of Christ, we have to be transformed by the renewal of our minds (Romans 12:2). Renewal is an ongoing, lifelong process. God wants us to be transformed by the renewal of our minds so that we know and act upon His will for our lives. Did your “Lent list” look like a to-do and “to-don’t” list? It’s helpful to stop now, at roughly the midpoint, and remind ourselves that Lent is not about the checklist. The checklist is the training plan for the marathon. Lent is about transformation. It’s about transfiguration. It’s about becoming more and more like Christ. It’s about uniting our hearts and souls with Him in order to shine like the sun in the kingdom of our Father (Matthew 13:43).

We resolved to get up earlier to do some spiritual reading every day. But around the end of the second week of Lent, winter returned with a vengeance and we stayed under the covers first one day, and then the next. Four days later, we’ve given up on our “something extra” because now it’s a lost cause.

No it’s not! You lost four training days. That’s not the end. Pick up where you left off.

The renewal of your mind is a lifelong process; you will keep renewing until you breathe your last breath. Every day, we have the opportunity to begin again. Every day, we are given the opportunity to ask for the fruits of the spirit—love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control—in order to help us finish the marathon. Think of them as the Gatorade stations along the way. Replenish. Refill. Begin again. Ask Him.

The point of the marathon isn’t to collect the medal at the end, to check the distance off on your daily running calendar (though that no doubt would be very satisfying). The point is to become a runner. The point isn’t to become a Lenten ninja, able to leap out of bed in the still dark morning in a single bound. The point is to become more like God. Learning to leap out of bed is the means to making your heart more like His.

And it requires His help.

Struggling with Lenten discipline isn’t failure. It’s opportunity. Every time we struggle,we get to ask for fruits of the spirit. Every time we ask, and He answers, we see the boundlessgenerosity of God. And every time we take the fruits and use them for His glory, we are a few steps further in the marathon of our lives.

What to Give Up

A few days before Lent began, my friend Helen posted a quote that struck and stuck as I was pondering the whole “what to do, what to give up” question. On a stark black background, with no pretty picture or accompanying caption, I read, “Hold loosely to the things of this life so that if God requires them of you, it will be easy to let them go.”

Helen’s life is a testimony to this idea. Several years ago, she and her husband and their big bunch of kids moved from a comfortable home near extended family in upstate New York to rural Florida. There, they began homesteading and built a small farm. They also welcomed more children, including one they adopted out of foster care. By all accounts and appearances, they were living a life committed to faith, family and fellowship with their neighbors.

Then, it all shifted dramatically.

Helen and her husband announced that they were selling the farm and moving to a third-world country to spread the Gospel. I can’t tell you where they went because I don’t know. Helen can’t tell me because they are in mortal danger there. Helen is not even her real name. To be a Christian where they are is punishable by death.

I am ashamed to admit that I watched their plans unfold with not a little doubt. I saw them sell or give away everything that wouldn’t fit in one suitcase per family member. All the farm animals, the furnishings, the house and the land itself. Then came the real sticking point for me.

They said goodbye to her elderly father, not knowing if he’d still be alive when they return. They said goodbye to their adult children. They said a tender goodbye to a newly married son, his wife, and their first grandchild due to be born when they are so very far away.

I thought about how much I’ve whined because my kids are scattered across the country. I thought about a house I miss even as I love the one I’m in. I thought about how I am still so dismayed at the complete absence of adoration chapels in Connecticut when there is one in every town in Northern Virginia.

And now, I cannot stop thinking about that quote.

We hold so tightly. Sure, it’s easy to see how we might hold tightly to material things and creature comforts. It’s easy to see how we don’t want to let go of a favorite piano or a set of heirloom china. Or the house where all your babies grew.

But what about those other “things?” The things that aren’t things at all? It was Corrie ten Boom who uttered the words in that quote. It was a theme she often repeated during personal speaking engagements long after her extraordinary ordeal as a Christian who hid Jews during World War II and later survived a concentration camp. She made sure that people understood she wasn’t only talking about material things. “Even your dear family. Why? Because the Father may wish to take one of them back to himself, and when he does, it will hurt you if he must pry your fingers loose.”

We believe that God is God of all. Everything, but also everyone. As parents, we commit our lives to the well-being of our children. We encourage attachment because we know that it is healthy — both physically and emotionally — to be attached. But we have to hold loosely in order to trust Our Lord completely. We cannot grip anything so tightly that there is no room for the Holy Spirit. The truth is that God is sovereign. He is Lord of all; he already holds all our possessions and all the people we love. He asks us to know this and to willfully surrender them to him.

What to give up for Lent?

Everything.