Dark Night of the Soul

I thought I had better take this window of opportunity to write now while it's quiet than later when it sounds like a swirling tornado has hit inside the house. The 3-year-old is down for her nap, my 9, 7 and 6 year olds are downstairs watching Thomas the Train trying to recover from strep throat and pneumonia. It has not been a fun week. As a matter of fact it hasn't been a fun three months.

I have always heard of people going through a great spiritual darkness wherein nothing and I mean nothing gives any kind of consolation whatsoever; where they feel so far from God almost to the point of spiritual despair and that is exactly where I have been since the end of December. In fact I took down this blog a while ago because I couldn't even relate to all I had written over the past year or so. I was always very puzzled by people who just "lost their faith," thinking how does that happen, and also thinking surely this will never happen to me. I have always been faithful - always followed "the rules" and always tried my best and so this darkness snuck up on me out of nowhere and swept through every cell in my body. Perhaps it was the enormity of the move from NJ to MA - perhaps I underestimated the toll it might take. Perhaps it was a great deal of un-dealt with trauma that began to rear its ugly head, almost mocking me. I just know I woke up one day and felt nothing. I was literally empty; I did not feel God's presence, nor any small morsel of help from the Saints - even the ones I have always had a strong devotion to. It was just darkness.

I am prone to depression and I do take medication for it (I believe I might have blogged on this before)- an unwelcomed inheritance from both my mother's side as well as my father's side. The depression became really dark and lonely and I felt left with no help from above. A month back I put away all statues of Saints, boxed up prayer books and Holy Cards as I just couldn't bear to even look at them. Basically, I just backed away (abandoned you might say) from the religion of my birth. The only thing that I could not bring myself to put away was a Holy Card of St. Padre Pio, who is especially close to me. So each night before I closed my eyes - there he was on my night-stand staring at me.

I began reading a lot of material and studying Judaism, a religion which has always fascinated me for some reason which I cannot explain. I do believe it was God's way of "not letting me go" - something I could hold on to for this dark time. I even contemplated conversion (and I still think about it daily) since I am laying it all out there - this is where I learned a lot about the people who will stand by you and those who will flee the soon-to-be "apostate." I learned so much and still have my daily Jewish devotion book on my night stand. I suppose you could say it was the thin thread holding me together so I would not fall into total despair. There is a lot of richness and beauty in Judaism and what I learned through a pretty in-depth study was that I did not have to fear those things outside my realm and comfort zone.

My dream of living in New England was short lived as we will be trekking back to NJ this summer, but I do see God's purpose in bringing us here. Had we not moved, if only for a year, I would never have seen that the big, bad, ugly public school system was really not bad and in fact a lifesaver for my two boys who flourished and whose teacher genuinely cares about her class. My 10-year-old and 9-year-old also flourished and essentially were "brought up to speed" in their academic studies at the small Catholic school they attend; something I was not able to provide for them in tending to two toddlers and a baby and working from home at the same time for several years. I found out my oldest child is brilliant (not that I didn't already know this). She tested a grade ahead of her peers - an honor for both her hard work and a much needed pat on the back for good old mom. She made honor roll and kept perfect attendance with the exception of two days of strep.

In summary, coming up here helped release a lot of fear that I had been holding on to for a long time. I know the children will be okay either in traditional school setting or at home. I learned I don't have to remain so rigid to connect with God through His Church. I learned to forgive myself and work on my tendency to be overly critical because I was raised with two overly critical parents. I learned that there is good in all faiths despite what others who take a more rigid approach might say. Though I tremendously fell short this Lent, i.e. not really observing much of anything - sad to say - but I do feel like God put me through one of the darkest (hopefully rewarding) Lents I have ever known.

New Resolutions

How does that Journey song go? "Be good to yourself when...nobody else will." Yes, this is resolution number one and a resolution gravely left undone for far too long. I know as mothers we often tend to ourselves last and can be quite self sacrificing - sometimes to a fault. I know I can see in myself that as my own children are getting older the noise volume has increased tenfold! I am extremely noise sensitive, probably directly related to years of suffering from migraine headaches and having six children under one roof makes for an extremely noisy home.

I am learning to take time out for myself - retreat to my room where my office is located and either blog or read or even fold laundry. I have learned to close doors, thereby making the children have to knock before entering instead of charging into my room uninvited and at full speed ahead. I am learning I don't always have to answer the knock at the door, especially if I just shut the bathroom door. This happens quite frequently at night after tucking everyone in for the millionth time. One or two will inevitably get up and come to my room for one reason or another just to make sure I haven't evaporated or a spaceship hasn't sucked me into eternity leaving them behind. There I am running my hot shower thinking I FINALLY have some peace and quiet and then comes the "knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock." My children have learned that I don't answer with just three knocks {my bad} so they will continuously knock until I answer and/or explode with a, "WHAT. DO. YOU. WANT?!?!?!"

Another part of taking care of myself also means learning who to keep in my life and who not to keep in my life. Baggage or the releasing of said baggage. I suppose this resolution is parting of "taking care of myself" but morphs into "kicking to the curb those who are toxic." The latter has taken me a long time to really put into action because letting go is really, really hard. And sometimes we are so enmeshed in other people's lives we do not realize how toxic they are for us. It's like drinking a quarter teaspoon of arsenic every other day. It won't flat out kill you right away; it will slowly kill you over a long period of time. I have learned and am just now brave enough to put into motion that not everyone we love is good for us and not everyone we love we HAVE to keep in our lives out of some sense of responsibility. I used to read this phrase about "surrounding ourselves with positive people and we will become positive ourselves" and kind of turn my nose up at it like it was some kind of flaky saying, but I get it now. I get it because it rings true for just the opposite. Surround yourself with toxic people and watch yourself erode away to nothingness. Even worse for me personally is being around people who hurt my children either directly or indirectly, overtly or covertly.

It is a bit freeing when one makes a decision to stop the generational dysfunction cycle for good and make a difference if even in one's own family unit. Sometimes the sacrifices are great and not understood by others but there is a certain peace and calm knowing that the greater good will be done....for them.

And this is only resolution number one. I guess you can say I have been slowly working on number one for a few months now; anticipating the New Year as really putting it into motion and it feels good, it feels scary, it feels hopeful. I suppose that's what it's all about.

Fundamentalists

fun·da·men·tal·ism (fnd-mntl-zm)
n.
1. A usually religious movement or point of view characterized by a return to fundamental principles, by rigid adherence to those principles, and often by intolerance of other views and opposition to secularism.

While I will probably be branded a traitor for this post and most likely get the equivalence of an old fashioned stoning, I will go ahead anyway and post my thoughts on the above said definition.

I can, with confidence, say that I have in one lifetime experienced two types of fundamentalism; one type {Independent Fundamental Baptist} I spent as a member, and I use that term lightly, for 10 LONG years and the other...get ready ye rigid ones to cast the first stone...Traditional Roman Catholic for eight years. I must say for all intents and purposes that I still attend the Traditional Mass of the Roman Catholic Church as I feel there are far too many abuses in the Liturgy in the newer rite (though I still attend the Novus Ordo quite frequently - it's not my first choice), but the difference NOW is that I do not claim to be a "Traditionalist," which many wear as a badge of honor. I can see the heads of many shaking back and forth and the whispers of, "Oh no, that poor soul. She's lost her way. She's fallen off the traddy wagon. What could have gone wrong with her?" I've toyed around with this subject on other posts prior to this, but I have never really gone for the jugular, which I hope I don't do now, but I am pretty certain it will come across that way.

So what the heck am I talking about? I am talking about extremes in life. I am talking about the exclusion of others, or the casting off of those who seem to "back-slide," who do not fit the mold of a given group of people. I'll give some examples below and hope the reader might have a slight insight into how fundamentalism in ANY religion can be a bad thing and do irreputable harm.

I am 15-years-old and getting ready to walk into Sunday evening church service at the Baptist church we had been attending since I was 12. A friend of my mother's, who was coming with us and who had just left her abusive husband, starting her life over again, escaping with her young son with the aid of my mother and my sister and I. We went into her home, packed up her things as quickly as we could in complete FEAR that this woman's husband would come home at any moment, catch us and then who knows what would happen then. Yes, there are many things wrong with this scenario, one being why on earth would any mother allow her two daughters to "help" her move a friend out of her house, thereby putting her two children in harms way, but I digress and will tuck that away for another post in the future. At any rate, we got this woman into her little one bedroom apartment and my mother invited her to come with us to church one Sunday evening. So we, who had been attending this church for three years at that point knew the unspoken rule of women and girls in skirts, men in ties, was not clearly relayed to my mother's friend, who promptly showed up to service in jeans and a shirt and high heels, LOTS of lipstick and very blue eyeshadow, very popular in the 1980's. Not a single person showed her any welcome. Not one. The Pastor even asked visitors to raise their hand, which she did and she got stares and glares of disapproval; my guess - what was going through their mind was "poor lost unsaved soul." I remember feeling my cheeks burn a bright red and feeling so badly for this woman, who could have used the warmth of those who portrayed themselves as being part of the "elect" of God Almighty, except they lacked the one quality that shows you are one of God's followers and that is charity. Charity comes in many different colors, not just dropping a dollar in the Salvation Army kettle outside Walmart.

Fast forward. I am 40 uh - ish, sitting at Mass, again knowing the dress code because not only is it spoken it is clearly spelled out and defined in print in the church bulletin and on a giant sign in the lobby. Now, I am not against dressing up for our Lord when we go to visit Him in church. We would if we were invited to see the president {well, maybe not this CURRENT president} or the Queen etc...so why not dress up for OUR King and Savior? At any rate, that doesn't mean there will be the "strays" that come in "off the street" to Mass, completely unaware that this is NOT your "regular" Catholic Mass. These poor, unsuspecting folks would walk in wearing jeans, T-shirt, sometimes *gasp* shorts, and the looks - if they were arrows there would be so many holes driven into the visitor that they would then turn into a nice water can for the garden. My heart would always go out to them...always because the vision of my mother's friend walking into the Baptist church in her jeans and high heels and basically being treated as a leper was all too fresh in my mind. I tried to make it a point to smile at these unsuspecting visitors, let them know that - yeah - there was someone who feels your pain and wants you to feel okay about coming into God's house.

St. Francis of Assisi says this, "Preach the Gospel at all times and when necessary use words." It's how we react to people different from us; showing God's love to them that changes hearts; not in rules and regulations and unspoken laws that we are expected to just know by osmosis.

I am now 18, sitting in the Baptist youth group that I had been part of since I was 15 years old. My sister and I were sitting in the back row, CLEARLY not wanting to be there. We had recently lost our father to an automobile accident and were, in a way, rebelling against such a strict set of rules; probably a very normal reaction and normal stage in the grief process. The youth pastor was doing "Bible Drills" wherein each youth group member was picked to a team and each team would compete against the other at who could find the verse called out by the youth pastor first. Two captains were selected and one by one teens were chosen for team one or team two. My sister and I were sitting in the back row, long faced, half heartedly wanting to even BE there when we realize we are the LAST two people left NOT to be chosen for a team. The Youth Pastor then starts the drills, even though we were clearly excluded from being picked to a team and probably because we were considered "rebellious" and "angry teens" and probably a "bad influence" on the rest of the group. So, there we sit, unpicked as the Bible Drill begins. We look at each other, shove our chairs out from under us - making quite a loud exit, up the stairs and OUT the church we went. We never returned. Instead of recognizing, "Hey these two girls JUST lost their father, our church accountant and upstanding member of our church community - maybe, just maybe they are hurting and need to feel the loving arms of their church community." No. Not so. Charity folks. Charity. That's all that was needed to heal so many wounds.

Fast forward, I am *cough* later 30's with several very small children at Mass; children who did NOT comprehend that hey, when you are at Mass you must be quiet. Having three in diapers at one time and trying to keep those said three quiet was - well not going to happen. We were in the infamous "cry room" for mothers with small children. At this point there was no video or audio so we would leave the door cracked to at least hear what point of the Mass we were at. I was closest to the door and trying to strain to listen to where we were when a guy gets up from his seat and shuts the door on me. I was stunned. Stunned, shocked and angry. I open the door again - cracked it mind you - when same gentleman gets up and shuts the door on me AGAIN. This time I am boiling! Boiling mad that the 10 mothers in this room cannot even CRACK the door to hear where we were in the Mass without it being slammed in our faces, literally, because our children were making too much noise. Me, being irish, and at this point pretty ticked off swung the door WIDE open and placed myself, along with the baby in the sling attached to me in front of the door to ensure no one would "lock us out of Mass again." Wouldn't you know he got up to TRY to shut the door when I *eh-hem* gently tell him that we have every right to hear the Mass as you do, now take your seat. This of course, did NOT go over very well. I was scolded at the end of Mass and told if the children were too noisy they should be taken outside. Hmmm....outside in the middle of January. Gee, what a great idea!

What different results BOTH of the above scenarios would have had if the body of Christ - His community of believers had even an ounce of charity in their heart.

I do not offer these examples to cause scandal, I offer them because I believe sometimes a false zeal for what you *think* is just and good, is really very harmful and damaging to God's people - people on a different path, a different course, a different road than you are on at such a specific moment in time. How much different any of the above examples might have turned out had a little charity, a little understanding and little tolerance to the fact that not everybody walks the same road at the same time, that perhaps some folks are pruned by Christ in extremely different ways to get to the outcome that He desires for us.

Fundamentalism at its core is NOT a good thing and yes, I can say I have jumped off the ride. I would rather be a spectator in the park watching the people on the ride than actually be strapped into a little car going through the loopdy-loops, rather -happy I am grounded, not worrying about what is coming around the next turn on the ride and ducking out of the way of the vomit from the person who just can't handle the ride in the first place.

We are supposed to be lowly in God's eyes and show charity and kindness. That is what makes folks say, "What is it that SHE has that I don't have?" Preach the Gospel at all times and when necessary use words.

I choose to get off the Fundamentalist ride and try to get back to a simpler path; shedding the chains that bind, ridding myself of the heavy cloak worn by most in the former groups.

The Top Half of the Rainbow

Have you ever been so caught up in the business of life that you forget about the beauty of life? I find myself in "go" mode all too often; I have a schedule to keep, laundry to do, reports to type, house to clean, kids to run here and there, etc. I know the old adage, stop and smell the roses, but I never seem to take it to heart or apply it.

Autumn is my favorite time of year, mostly because I love that the colder weather is on its way and the heat and humidity of summer will be all but a memory. The landscape will turn every shade of - well - really the upper portion of the rainbow! I pondered this thought on my way to get the children from school today as I drove down the back country roads here in Massachusetts. Most of the roads that I travel don't even have a yellow line to follow; it looks more like a long-winding driveway. Cars on either side of the road give each other the courtesy of "moving over" so both vehicles can fit at one time. The road to school is winding and sloping with some breathtaking overlooks, farms, valleys and hills, all lined with every kind of tree - oak, maple, dogwood, pine, birch, pear and on and on. The leaves are now bursting with the first portion of the rainbow. You know, ROY G. BIV - red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet. I see the brilliant reds aflame against the tall pines, orange and yellows line the winding country road. The familiar New England rock walls - home for many a furry animal like the squirrel and chipmunk frame the road's edge; even the pine trees seem to be jealous of the brilliance of the other trees and their needles turn a pale yellow as if to say, "I can be beautiful too and I am capable of changing as well." It's a great mantra, don't you think? As I wind around and try to pay attention to the road ahead I am showered with a cascade of yellow and red leaves raining down from above, the wind whipping up and scattering them afar. It's almost breathtaking. I can even picture the scene painted in a white winter wonderland - the contrast of the white of snow against the green of the tall pines.

It's almost as if I am suddenly awakened from some sort of slumber; like I am finally reaching the plateau and can take a breath and look out at my surroundings and be content. I see now why there are so many great poets and writers who originate from New England. The beauty alone is enough to stir even the numbest of minds. I am now reading "Walden" by Henry David Thoreau, published in 1854. Thoreau was born in Concord, here in Massachusetts and his book Walden was written describing Thoreau's experiences over the course of two years when he left for a cabin, which he built near Walden Pond, out amongst the woods and I am sure rocky landscape and owned by his friend and confidant Ralph Waldo Emerson. Though I haven't reached the end yet, a quote for which I know well and written towards the conclusion of the book says this, "If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away." 'Tis true' say the Irish. My last blog talked about being ourselves and not allowing ourselves to get caught up in what everyone else expects us to be or expects us to do or say. We all DO march to the beat of a different drummer. We don't always need to march in parade formation - we have the option of marching our own half-time show. Okay, okay, I was in the high school marching band for four years, what do you want?

Being yourself!

I think this will be a difficult blog to post, but I have been mulling it over for a long time now and whenever I do that, I usually wind up writing it down. In some ways, as I have stated in other posts, this move was a great blessing; a starting over if you will. It's not that I left for the greener grass on the other side, but moving your entire life 300+ miles away IS a starting over and yes, you DO leave the bad AND the good behind. It's no secret that I had many, many struggles before the move to New England. I struggled with the small rancher we lived in. It was a nice home and we had three of the six children in that house, but it never was "home" and I am not sure any other place besides Audubon will ever be "home." I am, however, closer to where my soul connects - Maine. Two hours is far better than eight hours. And then there is the school. My three older children go to a very small Traditional Catholic school here, taught by the good Sisters and Brothers of the Slaves of the Immaculate Heart of Mary. I admire greatly the work that they do for our children. I am thankful we live close by and that Our Lord has provided the means for our children to attend. I am equally as thankful for the public school Kindergarten that my two younger boys attend. Even two years' ago I would have SHUDDERED at the very thought of sending ANY of my children to public school; even a half day kindergarten, but it is amazing where life leads you if you only learn to shed some of the fear that binds you to a single mind frame. My two Kindergartners have a wonderful teacher and aide. The school is equally as good. I have no reservations whatsoever in dropping them off each morning and sending them off to class.

I realize now after months of reflection (and by the way - getting AWAY from your given situation that is causing you so much stress REALLY helps clear the air!) I finally came to the conclusion that I was bound by fear! I was afraid of everything! "In time we hate that which we often fear." ~ William Shakespeare. All too often I hear so many in religious circles proclaiming with certainty that their children are so much better off at home; protected from the world and the things OF the world which might corrupt them, but what I have learned is that the world is not such a scary place after all; that what is LIVED OUT at home is what is important; that constant prayer for our children and spouse and extended family is the best bet we have, not to mention trying to live a good example. I may not be perfect - far from it as a matter of fact, but I get up each day and try. I and my husband do what we think is best and so far, so good. Once a person lets go of the fear that keeps them paralyzed there is a certain freedom that envelopes the soul.

I don't have to prove to anyone, anything. I know my heart. I know my soul. Only God and my patron saints know what I truly long for and strive towards. My outward person is only a glimpse of who I am. I have really, really learned to be myself. I live for what God wants for me and our family - I am not worried about what others need me to be. Others can dictate what they want me to be, want me to wear, what to say, how to live, but I must be true to myself, for I know me better than the average person on the street! God knows me better than I even know myself. I am now comfortable in my own skin. I am comfortable knowing I am trying my best; albeit there are times when I fall short and fail, yes even everyday, but I get up trying again. I do not pretend to know what is best for anyone else, for my mission is what has been entrusted to ME - my family - my mission is to safely guide them through the rough waters (pronounced "wooders") of life. What counts is what is in our soul. No one else can tell me whether there is a "blotch" a "stain" or a "major spillage" on my soul or in my heart except my confessor.

As I stated several times before in my blog, it feels good to be free - truly free from an isolated world that tucks you away from everyone and anything that might "taint" you. Some of you reading this have NO CLUE what I am referring to; others know all too well. I have it set in my very being that I will NOT let others into my world, who have a predetermined idea of what MUST be and what they EXPECT me to be. I have reverence and respect for the "suggestions" of those who are clearly in a place of authority in the hierarchy - but I do not want to pretend to be someone I am not to please others. It's just this resolution that I have made long before moving north. It seems there are people on all sides telling me what I "should" and "should not" do; what "they" think is best for me. I am getting stronger each and every day and while other people can have an "opinion" of what they think I should or should not do - it does not equal what it is I MUST do. Getting back to the inner person is a goal I have for my forties. I won't be swept along by the current. I am determined to swim against it, and there is nothing wrong under the sun about that.

I am learning to let go and let God. I am striving to accomplish great things - things that appear small in the eyes of others, but big to me. I started my own transcription company last year and with the move I kind of put it on the back burner. Now I have resurrected it and am blasting the world of medicine with my brochures. I don't long to be the richest; to have the biggest house or the best clothes, heck my mother-in-law and I went to the Salvation Army Thrift Shop the other day. I got a ton of stuff and you know what? I was proud of my armful O'stuff that I brought home! I would LOVE to feel the blanket of accomplishment around me and know that "I" made it with the help of some heavenly helpers ;)

Maybe it's age. I don't know. Maybe it's life experience? We all can only do the best we know how to do with the deck we've been handed. We cannot collapse into an excuse that we had a "rough" childhood or that life dealt us a "bad hand." We must rise above and decide to change the path for our children. I don't want my children to see me cower to the will of others just to make friends. There comes a point in one's life when you don't "need" friends. You "have" friends and those are the folks who stick by you through thick and thin, through the ebbs and flows of life and who understand what is truly inside your soul. Everyone else can get their own pot to piss in.

Adjusting

Sometimes the best way to figure out who you are is to get to that place where you don't have to be anything else.--Unknown

Is this above quote ever true!! Did you ever just feel like starting over? Being anonymous? Not having everyone in your entire "circle" not only knowing every detail of your life, but scrutinizing it as well? I did and I had to really check myself because I have this tendency of "fight or flight" when I get into the trenches and can't seem to pull out of it. I found myself homeschooling five children and caring for a toddler, while working as much as I could to help out with the growing bills and cost of living and quite frankly, an economy that has gone down the toilet. Overwhelmed is an understatement. Our yearly vacations to Maine was a welcomed escape and I would spend my seven days dreaming of an easier way to live life, a simpler way; one that would not have me under a microscope amongst those who called me friend. Basically, I wanted to escape - escape our small rancher in NJ, escape escalating taxes and smothering summer humidity and a rigid sub-circle of folks for which I found myself lost and suffocated.

I am blessed to have a sensible husband. While I dream of flights of fancy, he tends to ground me to reality. He finally came to see that homeschooling, while it gave our oldest a wonderful start in life was not advantageous for the rest of the children because their mother was overworked and stressed out day in and day out. Many an evening my husband and myself would talk around a fire pit about what to do to help ease the burden. Parochial school was not an option, primarily because of the high tuition costs in our Diocese. Public school was out of the question because of the district for which we lived. There were no other options unless we were willing to relocate. That we did in July.

I think the last six months have been a bit of a blur. I came to Massachusetts on many occasions to look for homes, check out schools and take care of residency issues, all the while it never felt "real" - it never felt like this was really going to happen. Then on July 14th it did. We are now here two full months. These past two months haven't always been easy, given the fact that my husband is still working in NJ and commuting home on weekends (which, beginning this week he will have every other week home telecommuting), and the fact that I and the children had to adjust to a whole other life. I have to say as far as major moves go, this was a fairly easy transisiton and I would know having over 20 moves under my belt at the age of 42! The house is twice the size of our old rancher and two stories so the noise level isn't AS obnoxious as it was. The woods surrounding our home are gorgeous and filled with all new sounds - tree frogs and some unfamiliar sounding birds chirping at the dawn of a new day.

I suppose the biggest and most anticipated change was taking the leap of placing my children in school. My two younger boys are in the local public school, an idea five years ago I wouldn't have EVER even entertained! My three oldest children are attending a small private Traditional Catholic School taught by the good Sisters and Brothers. I was not sure what impact this would have on me or them for that matter, but we have found a wonderful new world; a world which allowed us to start anew. I love the above quote because for the first time in a very long time I feel I can be myself because I don't have to be something else to other people. I touched on this in my thoughts on traditionalism within in the Catholic Church. I was hoping that this move would not be a lateral move in the sense of our church community and worship. So far, and it has only been two months, I have found it to be the complete opposite. I almost can feel a sense of de-programming going on and I am liking the results. It is so freeing being able to be yourself and not have to live up to other's standards whether imposed or covertly imposed. What I would like to say out loud, but probably shouldn't - oh heck, I will anyway, is that I almost feel like a person who has come out of a cult-like world and is seeing life for the first time. I realize it will take a long time to put myself back out there if I ever do, but am content. Contentment is worth its weight in gold. Life isn't going to be rosy and Pollyanna forever. The honeymoon will end, but I feel I have been let loose from chains that have weighed me down and am now free to just enjoy life - on my terms.

It is wonderful rediscovering me - the person I was and the person I hope to be. I used to allow fear to dictate how I lived my life, the people I chose to surround me, the clothes I chose to wear; basically every aspect of how I lived my life. Fear that was directly and indirectly thrust upon me. I feel sad for so many folks who allow fear to dictate their choices. Controlling your life and the life of your children is not freedom. It is, in the broader sense more binding! I am reading a fantastic book right now written by David Peltzer, "As an individual you have the power to choose. You can either work through your anxieties or become a slave to them. ...Somehow we allow the psychological garbage from our lives to rot away our self esteem...day after day after day. To keep ourselves from deteriorating we need to look at our situations for what they were, take some form of action now, and let the past go." Letting go is very difficult because holding on to old disgruntled feelings feels empowering, but really it keeps us from fully enjoying our life.

I think it's okay to be a little gun-shy and to keep folks at arms length for a time while working out old "psychological garbage" and making sure you have fully come to peace with your past.

At any rate, I am getting there. This family is getting there and even though there are still struggles we know there is a light at the end of the tunnel.

Happy wife, happy life

Experts say that moving is in the top five most stressful events a person can experience in life, alongside death in the family, divorce etc... In my lifetime I can claim 24 moves, including this current move to Massachusetts. Yes, I moved 24 times; no I was not a military kid either. Perhaps it's the product of a mother, who felt she should school hop her four kids throughout their educational years. I was in six schools in 13 years. Moving does not seem as monumental to me as it does, say perhaps a person who has never moved or moved only once or twice in their life...someone, say like my husband - the poor soul. I have always been very fearless and independent and the prospect of a new locale seems, well, very pioneer-like to me. Out of 24 moves, only two stand out as being highly stressful to me. One was the time my sister and I left North Carolina, broke - literally with about 15 dollars to our name, traveling north to Delaware to move into a cellar-basement apartment with our older brother. We coasted into Delaware on fumes and spent our last two dollars on the last toll into Delaware. We had no money and little food for a long, long time. I can recall going to the gas station and asking for .75 cents in gas (the 75 cents we stole from my brother's change machine he had in his room) so that we could go to the store and buy Raman Noodle Soup at .25 cents (which we also stole) per package just to have food to eat. Not a pleasant year to remember. The other time was when we left my hometown, the town in which all my happy memories reside - the town I was born and raised in - the town where my husband and I bought our first home, to move to a more "rural" location. We had picked a four acre mini-farmette. We figured it would be better for the children to have a lot of land versus growing up on a 50x150 foot lot. I will NEVER forget our first night in that house. The previous owners left it disgustingly dirty - right down to the hair in the drain in the tub. Yes, it was gross. After a long day of moving furniture and putting the kids to bed, I walked out to the driveway and cried for a good 45 minutes, filled with complete regret at our decision. But I did make the best of what had been handed to me and the children did, indeed, love the huge property. But, we quickly outgrew our small three bedroom rancher and I became completely burned out with homeschooling, at the time, five children. The "house" never felt to me like a home. This is not to say that wonderful memories were not fostered in that house. We moved in with three children and left with six! We had the opportunity to "farm" raising chickens (dumbest creatures on the face of the earth, but comical to watch!), horses and the like.

This most recent move to Massachusetts, for me at least as I cannot speak for my very patient husband, was seamless. Yes, it stunk for about a month with boxes piled high and the whole moving day itself, but coming up here to Massachusetts was basically very smooth. The kids adjusted very well. No nightmares. No complaints. No homesickness. Now, mind you, I had been doing a perpetual novena to St. Anne (my Patron) and St. Philomena for several years to follow God's will for us. While I desperately tried to force moving to Maine as God's will, well it just wasn't meant to be.

And I must add, it was time. Time to fly - time to go. I had prayed a prayer for detachment to person, place and thing so that I could have the courage to leave all that I knew and loved like my Parish, my family and friends, my familiar way of life. God answered that request, sometimes in a very harsh manner, but nonetheless, He answered and the courage to leave came without hesitation.

Today I was in Target and me and the children picked up several school supplies such as back-packs and notebooks etc... There is a certain thrill in the prospect that the children will be properly taught by the good nuns and brothers. I do still believe that mothers are capable of homeschooling their children, especially when no other option is available to them, but in my heart I truly believe it isn't the best option. Now I know many who read this - some, if not many, are homeschooling mothers themselves might raise an eyebrow or two - but truly I do not think we, as mothers and wives cannot fully fulfill our vocation in the home when we are trying to school five, six, seven children as well as do laundry, cook meals, clean house etc...and I firmly believe in the good of children being under the influence of good and holy nuns, brothers and priests in a school setting. I think of St. John Bosco. This is the conclusion that I have been led to; it may not be God's will for everyone else, especially those who have NO other option.

It's funny how we change and grow over time. Ten years ago you would have never heard me say the above words...never (!). But time has a way of changing us as our life is ever growing and ever moving in other directions. When your children are small you think you can conquer the world, but life takes on different challenges when you suddenly have teenagers and children with learning impairments. You have to stop and rethink, "What am I capable of?" Surely, those who do not agree with my line of thinking will immediately respond with, "God will give you ALL the graces you need to homeschool!!" I know this because it has been said to me a dozen or more times. Yes, I believe God is capable of anything for He is GOD, but is it HIS will for a mother to continue in an exhausted state, working from home to bring in income, homeschool many children on different levels, tend to the home, tend to the yard, raise babies and do a million loads of laundry? I don't know. For me it was clear. I was NOT doing the best I could do for my children and we DID have other options and we went for it. We went for it and trusted God would hold us up and so far...He has in many magnificent ways. We have nothing to fear and I meet too many homeschooling moms who homeschool out of fear - fear of what is "out there" and out of creating a protective "bubble" to raise up Saints. I recall many Saints in the history of the Church who actually went to school! Gasp.

At any rate, we continue to strive forward, trust in our Good Lord to lead us and uphold us on this new journey. I know He will else He wouldn't have led us to this place.