So I’d like to take a quick moment to thank those of you who messaged, commented and e-mailed regarding the situation between my father and myself.  As many of you have noticed, I removed the entry detailing the situation.  That being said, there have been so many of you who reached out with similar stories and concern that I wanted to allay confusion and answer folks all at once instead of responding on repeat via message/email/comment.

1. I didn’t remove the entry because I was ashamed or embarrassed.  I didn’t remove it because I was afraid my family would read it (I’m no less candid in person, people.  I didn’t post anything to my page that my mom didn’t already hear from me first).  I also didn’t remove it because some of you wrote to me in an attempt to shame me into remorse for my past.  I removed it because it made some folks close to me uncomfortable. 
   
2. I have not spoken to my father since the incident. 
   
3. I still haven’t decided what I’m going to do beyond pray my little heart out.  I know I have to do something, I just don’t know what that something should be yet.
   
4. So many of you have written in with similar stories.  I have to admit that I was surprised to hear how many of you grew up in a similar situation – specifically the part about “playing The Game” – and how many of you are still playing, well into adulthood.  For the remainder of this entry, I’m going to focus on you guys. 
   

You don’t have to play the game forever.  Believe it or not, the person most in control is the person who no longer wants to play.  From the sounds of it, that power belongs to a lot of you out there.  So many of you have written in to sound off, and I wish to remind you of this. YOU have the power to end it.  YOU have the power to say “Enough” and demand better for your family and your children.  

I’ll admit that my son was my catalyst.

I foolishly thought I could shield him from The Game.  I assumed it couldn’t touch him because he was too young to understand.  Vincent’s single, tiny question took a sledgehammer to my blissful ignorance and I saw the awful truth for what it was – we cannot protect our children from such pervasive, tacitly accepted dysfunction.  Inevitably, they pick up on the inflections, the whispered mockery and the practiced eye rolls; they hone their situational awareness on barbed comments, stony silence and seething disdain. 

I did not want that for my son.  I know many of you want better for your children as well.  It seems none of us are sure how to break the cycle.  Some of you have cut off family ties altogether.  Some of you have continued playing The Game hoping the injuries sustained will eventually heal.  Still others of you have confronted the issue only to be turned away and ostracized for your refusal to participate.  How my heart breaks for you and your families.  I understand the tightrope you walk.  On the one hand, you want to protect your children and on the other, you want to keep familial relationships alive and well.  It’s so hard, though, when you're scorned for rocking the boat. 

*Sigh*

I wish I had some good advice to give you.  Unfortunately, I haven’t stumbled upon a good way to handle this myself.  Every time I try to sit down and attempt getting my thoughts in order, I’m overcome with anger and a sense of hopelessness.  How can I even begin to fix something so irreparably damaged? 

The answer is that I can’t.  I know that I can’t, and I think that’s what prevents me from trying.  Sadly, I think that’s the same rut my father got stuck in decades ago when he realized just how badly he messed up.  Why bother attempting to fix the puzzle when the shards of glass turned to dust long ago under such strain? 

Again… *sigh*

I know I need to do something.  Though it’d be relatively easy to cut him out of our lives, I know that’s not the right response.  My father and I are both broken people.  For me to cast him aside would be both unfair and hypocritical.  It would certainly be a lot easier, but you and I both know that’s not the Christian way. 

Besides, I guess it's not my job to fix him or this situation.  It's not up to you guys, either. God doesn't expect us to fix things like this.  What He asks is that we be open to allowing Him to fix things.  

Thus, I realize I need to reach out to my dad so God has something to work with, ya know? While He's easily able to work miracles without human intervention, He likes to work with us.  He could've healed the paralytic man without his buddies going through the trouble of getting him onto a roof and dropping him through it, but God allowed them to come halfway so He could take their effort and magnify that offering of faith down through the ages.  

I think I’m going to carve out time this week to go off by myself, grab some paper, and physically write out a response.  I don’t think I’m able to have a face-to-face conversation yet; I’m too bitter.  In a letter, I can edit and re-edit, softening language and sacrificing vitriol for clarity.  When face-to-face, I tend to spit fire with the sole purpose of seeking mass devastation.  Situations like this bring forth a fight-or-flight response in me, and I’ve never been one to flee.  Thus, writing a letter is how I’ll begin this journey.  

Prayers would be appreciated as I attempt to pull one together.  

Please know of mine for all of you who struggle with similar situations.  May we be given wisdom, clarity and a pervasive sentiment of charity.  

I saw this on my Facebook newsfeed today and decided to share it with my friends.  I have several Pro-Palestine friends, but I've got vast swaths who simply don't know / don't care about what's been going on in and around Gaza.  

I think this is a succinct and creative way of explaining some recent history behind the current problems.  

Later on, I saw this article come through my newsfeed courtesy of Katherine at Having Left the Altar.  

Seeing the photos instantly brought to mind an event known as the "Kristallnacht." Translating to "Night of the Broken Glass," the Kristallnacht occured throughout Germany in November of 1938.  Nazi guards raided Jewish businesses, arrested Jews for trumped up charges, and destroyed so many Jewish homes and places of worship that the streets were covered in broken glass (hence the moniker).  

Apparently the same thing is happening in France as Palestinian supporters are attacking Jewish homes and businesses to protest what is happening in Gaza.  

*Sigh*

This is an incredibly sad and truly frightening chain of events.  We must pay attention to history as it begins cycling back to rewrite itself.  We know the story... we need to do a better job of holding ourselves to higher standards.  We cannot stand idly be as we did before.  We MUST speak out against this.  

Several of my gal pals got together to celebrate my birthday last month.

Since my birthday last year was a bit of a farce, my friends - led by Faith - decided to make up for it by going all out for my 31st.  

My best friend, Mary, drove all the way from Warminster to pick me up.  She and my coworker, Emily, drove me to meet up at this placed called Canvas Mixers.  The concept behind this place (and others like it) is fascinating.  

Professional artists offer classes on various paintings and spend three hours teaching you how to paint a particular piece step-by-step.  Plus, you get to drink wine and eat cupcakes. What's not to love?

Faith chose Vincent van Gogh's Starry Night class for us because she was either insanely confident in our collective artistic abilities or rip-roaringly drunk.  Regardless, we found ourselves in what looked to be the most difficult art class any of us had ever taken part in.

We ended up having a FANTASTIC time.  Though we were all super intimidated by the masterpiece, our instructor calmly led us through the directives that took us from stark white canvas to refrigerator-ready-Mom-I'm-awesome artwork.  

I think we were all pleasantly surprised by our inner Van Gogh.  Unfortunately, two of our friends are missing from this picture because they were doing a few touch-ups to their paintings.  Theirs were great, too!  I highly suggest classes like this to anyone looking to boost their artistic self-worth.  It was so much fun and such a great way to bond with my friends.  I'd never done anything like it, but I hope to go again soon (maybe with a piece that's a little less scary).  

Have any of you ever done something like this?

I'm finally rounding out my Cistercian Monastery series with the Glorious Mysteries.  Whew!

Jesus knows how I feel:

I like how the sculptor made His robes look like they're billowing.  It's stone!  How do you carve stone into something that looks like it's fluttering in the wind???  If I could high-five the artist, I would.  

The next two mysteries are different from all the other sculptures in that they are done in mid-relief style.  I thought it was an odd choice given all the others are statues, but it was probably a lot cheaper to go this route than creating individual statues for all the saints present for these two events.

First up is the Ascension.  

Five apostles are chosen to represent the lot of them.  Again, I'm pretty sure this was done to cut down on both space and expense.  The image of Jesus is almost exactly the same as the form used for the Resurrection and the apostles are in various states of adoration.  

You can't really tell from the photo, but this is actually a very tall relief. When you're standing in front of it, you have to look up at it, and it does seem as if it's stretching up to the sky.  Given how blue the sky was that day, it seemed that Christ was ascending right off the sculpture.  

Pretty awesome.  

Vincent tried to give one of the apostles a high five because of how his hand was sculpted.  That was funny.  The lake also stretches out behind this one.

The next relief is a large image of Pentecost.  I admit to being a fan of this one.  Here's a detail of it:

I love how Our Lady is both centered and raised above the apostles.  Given her status as Daughter, Spouse and Mother of God, it's fitting that she's got a large halo and is so obviously set apart from the men who she gently guided as they began building the Church her Son began.  Here's the full image:

The next statue is probably my least favorite, but I think it's just me being picky.  She's looking up into Heaven, but she looks resigned.  I'd imagine she'd looked over-joyed... not just transfixed in a "I'm ready, come get me!" type stare.  I almost feel this would have been her calm, reflected pose when she said "Fiat" to His Incarnation.  But I digress.  Here she is in all her Assumption-y glory:

Finally, the next statue is my favorite of the Glorious Mysteries.  The Coronation of Mary looks like Our Lady of Mount Carmel.  See for yourself:

She's officially Queen of the Universe (you can see her standing on the moon, planets and earth.  She's enthroned upon a gorgeous detailed throne and hands are open in welcome.  She's so regal, gentle and beautiful.  I love this one!

And that, my friends, is FINALLY the end of my Cistercian virtual tour.  I hope you enjoyed!

My poor kid was so sick last week!  His fever just wouldn't quit.  I ended up taking him to the ER late Friday night because his breathing was so awful.  He had some fluid in his lungs.  My poor little munch!  

He missed a whole week of school.  This is the first time he's actually registered that he wasn't feeling well.  When the doctor asked him where he hurt, he replied, "My esophagus!"

Ha ha ha.  That anatomy app I purchased was totally worth it.  The doctor got quite the chuckle out of that one.  

I made this diaper cake for a coworker's baby shower.  I always enjoy putting this sort of stuff together.  I'm not a baker by any stretch of the imagination, but you'd be amazed at the things I can do with a few diapers.  Ha ha ha!  

This is our first office baby, so we're all pretty excited (at least the women are).  I can't wait to meet her!  This is my coworker's first child, too, so keep her in your prayers. She's due in a few weeks and is nervous (as all new mothers are).  

The shower was so much fun.  I think Carla (the new mom) was surprised.  She was definitely super appreciative that we organized the event for her.  Good times!

Had a REALLY disturbing experience on Friday night before taking Vince to the hospital.  I went out with my friend, Theresa, to a brewery for dinner.  Great food, nice service, REALLY ridiculous dining neighbors.  

While Theresa and I were enjoying our food, an older woman (45-50) and a younger man (maybe 25?) sat next to us at an adjacent table.  Their table was likely a foot and a half from ours.  The woman was obviously inebriated, and apparently they were on a first date.  She kept smacking him across the table and repeating, "You're so HOT!  You don't think I'm gorgeous.  Tell me that I'm gorgeous again!"

AY.

It was embarrassing.  If that wasn't bad enough, she slipped off her shoe and placed her foot against his lap (we were outdoors, no table cloths, and again... we were less than 2 feet away).  I started giving Theresa the "We need to get out of here NOW" stare, so she started pounding back her drink.  

The woman then suggests they take a selfie (REALLY, lady?  A SELFIE?  Just stop).  She threw herself into his lap and put her hands where her foot had just been.  She then said, "This would be easier if you'd open your legs" and then loudly declared, "I'm going to bed you tonight."  (WHO SAYS THAT?!)

GAG.

I immediately paid the tab and left.  I couldn't stop balking about it the whole way home. It's almost a week later and I'm STILL balking about it!  Who DOES that?!  

That guy was young enough to be her son, and she was acting like a tweeny-bopper fawning over One Direction.  I was so incredibly embarrassed for her.  As for the guy, he didn't seem to mind anything her aggressiveness nor her inebriation (for obvious reasons). I just can't... 

They were in a VERY public place during the dinner rush.  They were in VERY close proximity to us and the table on the other side of them.  The woman was loud and obnoxious, and the guy did nothing to point that out.  I almost felt like looking around for Candid Cameras because the situation seemed so ludicrous.  

Ick.  Please never let me turn into that when I get older.  Ick.  Please never let Vincent allow himself to be as degraded as the yahoo with that woman.  IIIIIIICK.  

What are you even supposed to do in that situation?  "Excuse me, folks, but could you take your lustful stupidity down a notch?  Normal people would like to enjoy their dinners."

When did it become acceptable to act like this in public?!

I got the opportunity to take Vince to see Medieval Times.  We had SO MUCH FUN!  At first he was terrified due to the over-stimulation, but after we got him focused on his own shouting (cheering on the black night you see us standing with).  

There were nine of us altogether.  The three kids had a blast and us parents were getting giddy just watching them enjoy themselves. Definitely one of the best nights we've had in a long time.  

My son said the strangest thing to me en route to daycare yesterday, and I was so caught off guard that I almost pulled the car over to allay my own confusion.  

He said, "Mommy, I'm peach."  

He was referring to the color of his skin because he uses the peach crayon for his face and body (also known as circles 1 and 2).

I said, "Yes."

He replied, "I want to be brown."

Curious, I asked, "Vincent, why do you want to be brown?"

He replied, "All of my friends are brown."

I said, "Vincent, is your heart good?"

"Yes, Mommy."

"Do your friends have good hearts, too?"

"Yes, Mommy.  They are very, very nice."

"So it doesn't matter what their color is.  It doesn't matter what color you are.  What matters is how you treat people.  If your heart is good, YOU are good, okay?"

"Okay, Mommy."

He seemed content with that, but I was so caught off guard!  I honestly didn't think a thing about skin color until I was closing in on 8th grade.  I was a minority in my elementary school, and that fact never actually dawned on me until someone from high school brought it to my attention when he looked at my graduation picture.  He said, "You only had 5 white kids in the whole class?"

Looking back, I remember feeling instantly defensive and incredibly stupid.  It had NEVER occurred to me that I was a minority until he pointed it out, and I felt stupid for never making that connection.  Then I felt doubly stupid for thinking my color-blindness was something to be ashamed of.  

It makes me sad that Vincent is already aware of color.  Granted, he obviously doesn't think about it negatively, but the fact that such a thing is on his radar at all surprises me.  I asked his teacher if they did a lesson on differences or something, but she was just as surprised as I was.  

His class is a good mix of kids, and I like that.  I grew up in a diverse community and I want the same for Vincent.  He's got friends of both genders, of several ethnic backgrounds, and doesn't care if you collect Star Wars or Star Trek memorabilia.  He loves everyone regardless, and I love that.  I'd love to know what spurred that comment, though.  I really would.  

Ah well.  At least he seems satiated for the time being.  Dunno what I'll say if it comes up again, though.  

My SIL just posted this photo of Alliya and I.  As soon as I saw it, I recognized the setting. This was taken as John, Vince and I were leaving our cousin's wedding.  I sought out Alliya and knelt down to give her a big hug.  I wanted to thank her for giving me the rose out on the dance floor.  I'm so glad my FIL caught this moment because to me, it conveys so much more than Aunt Gina smiling at Alliya.  It's me - on my knees with gratitude - beaming up at my source of Divine Providence and Consolation... my hands around her waist and her hands on my shoulders.  

I love that she's in Blessed Mother blue to boot.  

:)

We had a loud thunderstorm last night that got Vince all sorts of upset.  He didn't want to go to bed, and I can't really blame him.  The thunder was so loud it shook the house, and the lightning looked like it was going to strike our tree any second.  

So I told him the same thing I used to tell my students who were afraid of storms:  Say "Cheese" and smile for the angels!

The lightning is the flash from their cameras and the thunder comes from their drums as they tried to get his attention.  

:)

As you can see from the video above, it ended up working pretty well.  He wasn't scared anymore and he ended up enjoying having his picture taken so much!