Bill bought me a new camera lens for the feast of the Epiphany.  This one is for portraits, and intentionally blurs backgrounds/foregrounds/sidegrounds.  This is great for the messy housekeeper who doesn’t really want you to notice the fingerprints on the wall behind the person in the photo.  Or the dirty laundry nearby.  Or the cluttered kitchen counter.  The gingerbread houses were photographed with that lens.  Here are some family shots taken over several days where I practiced with the lens.  I have to admit that I really love it.

Before dinner:

“Do you have your letter to the Bishop?”

grunt

After dinner: 

“Do you have your letter to the Bishop?”

grunt

In the driveway:

“Do you have your letter to the Bishop?”

grunt

Two minutes down the road:

“Did you sign the letter to the Bishop?”

“No – do you have the letter?”

“Wha-?  Didn’t you get the letter off my desk?”

Noises, not grunting, more like anxious squawking.  A time for calm.

“I’ll bring it when I pick you up.  You can sign it and give it to your teacher then.”

He quiets.

Apparently, I have not mastered Communicating with Your Teenager.  Did I need to ask a fourth time?

Eye contact…need to make more eye contact.

Fritz has a backpack for hiking that is 1″ too big in the waist.  He’s got 5 months until Philmont to grow into it.  At dinner the other evening, Bill mentioned his father’s idea of feeding Twinkies to Fritz to put some weight on his skinny body. 

“What’s a Twinkie?” asked Katie.  Most of the kids had blank looks as well.  Bill cast accusing eyes on me, as though I had deprived my children of some vital life experience.  What can I say?  Twinkies seem to be lunch box food.  We don’t do lunch boxes.

When polled, NONE of my children could identify a Twinkie, not even my older boys.  So, we headed to the grocery store just to buy a package to have for dessert.  A box of 10 was over $3 – one other reason I rarely buy stuff like this.

Now they all know what a Twinkie is.  And three of the kids don’t like them. 

Uh, oh, kids.  Better do your research now or face having to go to the library for that paper due on Thursday.

America’s favorite “source” for non-vetted information is going dark for 24 hours.

Randall Terry Campaign to Run Pro-Life Commercials During Superbowl Game

I know many people are uncomfortable with graphic images of abortion.  I know many people think that displaying the horror of abortion will not change hearts and minds.

I am uncomfortable with graphic images of abortion.  I don’t like to see them.  I don’t want my children to see them.

But I also don’t like to see the photos of the Nazi death camps: the piles of bodies, emaciated to nothing; the naked men and women, shockingly still able to walk despite quite literally being nothing but skin and bones.  But I think everyone, at some point, must see these images.  A picture is worth a thousand words.  We must be horrified, or we risk becoming numb to the reality.

When I read Unplanned by Abby Johnson, I found it very interesting that in her first chapter she described her horror when she had to assist in an abortion by holding the ultrasound wand in place.  She had to watch the abortion so that the doctor would be sure to have a good image.  It is one thing to “assist” an abortion by shuffling paperwork in another room or by walking women to and from their cars.  It is quite another to witness an unborn child fighting for his life.  That event had her fleeing the clinic and seeking comfort with her enemies – the pro-lifers’ office down the street who had been praying for her, specifically for her, for years.

Yet, by the last chapter, she seemed to argue that graphic images were not as effective as kind words and prayers.  Now, I am confident that the years of praying for her and reaching out to her were very instrumental in her conversion.  But it seems clear that witnessing that abortion was shockingly and immediately effective in changing her views.

Randall Terry is running for president only because TV can not edit a presidential candidate’s ads.  These ads will be graphic, and I will be sure that my younger children are protected from viewing them if they air in our area.  However, I do support their airing.  I do think America needs to see what is happening, legally, every day in this country.

To view the ads, and to support their airing in additional cities, go to Terry for President. 

Thomas McDonald of the National Catholic Register wrote a nice piece called “Motherhood and the Call to Holiness“.  I happen to be quoted in it, but it would have been good even without my input.

Not only is it time to go back to work and school, the unseasonably (even for Savannah) warm weather has come to an abrupt end.  They are actually using terms like “wind chill” – and they really mean it.  Last night, at bedtime, the temperature in my house was 72 degrees…and this was with the heater off, as it has been off for about 2 weeks.  In fact, I almost put the A/C on the other evening so it would be comfortable for sleeping, but we managed to do without, thanks to ceiling fans in every bedroom.

This morning, it was 66 degrees, which I realize is higher than where some of you folks with thick winter blood normally set it, but I am just not that tough.  Plus, I’ll never get the kids out of bed if it’s that cold.  Outside, it is 33 degrees (yes, yes, above freezing – but 20 degrees colder than yesterday morning) with wind gusts making it feel like 14 (which is cold, by most standards).

I’m drinking a hot cup of coffee and contemplating my morning run, which just doesn’t seem very appealing.

On New Year’s Eve, we gathered around the coffee table and I had everybody make one resolution and one prediction for the new year.  I wrote them all down, sealed them in an envelope, and we’ll open it next year when we do the same thing.

Some of the resolutions were the standard fare: exercise more, eat healthier.  Some were fun: learn some magic tricks.  Some were challenging: be nicer.

With the predictions, nobody seems to feel a calling to be a seer.  Nobody wanted to guess the winner of the Superbowl or the presidential election – although Bill predicted that the winner would be somebody I, his wife, did not vote for.  Yes, well, we shall see.

Most of us stuck with likely to happen predictions: that the gingerbread houses would be smashed (we generally do that on January 6th), that we would move to a new home, that we would have to resume schoolwork.

Billy predicted that he would have a new brother or sister this year.  That’s another likely prediction.  I’m due mid-June!

It will be an exciting year, I’m sure.