When I talked to Bill at 8 pm, he was annoyingly vague about his travel plans for his return tomorrow.

“You mean you don’t even have a set time you’re meeting for breakfast?” I asked.

“We’ll probably meet about 630 and then head out,” he replied. Please, dear, try to contain your enthusiasm for coming home.

I had to get off the phone for prayers and to get the kids off to bed. “I’m not going to call you later,” I informed him, “I want to try to get some work done.”

An hour later, I finally had the baby asleep. I ignored the sink of dirty dishes and sat down to check email. A minute later, I saw the taillights of a car pulling past my window deeper into the driveway. Who is that? I wondered in alarm. Quickly my brain raced through a mental list as I sprung into action: Where is the dog? Are all the doors locked? Where is the phone? Do I call Bill (to confirm that it’s NOT him) or the police first? Where is the gun? We don’t have any ammo – is there any point?

After checking that the doors were indeed locked and with phone in hand, I went to the door and turned on the outside lights and waited to see who would appear on the steps. I told myself it had to be Bill, because he pulled to the left in the drive where he normally parks, instead of to the right where most people would naturally pull. But Bill was in another state, or so he seemed to claim not an hour before.

Of course, it was Bill. He wanted to surprise me. And when, 10 minutes later, I still had an unpleasant adrenaline rush, he said, “Oh, that’s right, you don’t like surprises.”

I’ll be happy, darling, just as soon as I calm down.

Sweden allows sex-selective abortions

If it makes the Swedish doctors uncomfortable, you know it’s bad.

To avoid the swine flu, don’t do this:

My MIL sent this, and it made me laugh out loud.

So, it’s cold and rainy here (our brief summer weather is but a memory). I’m wondering when they’re going to cancel baseball. Will they give me a one hour warning? Ten minutes? Or will I drive all the way down before I find out?

No time this morning. Did I mention my entire family is coming to visit this week? They begin arriving tomorrow!!

How to be Awesomely Holy – Part One

There are many people you are going to meet every single day who will be intimidated by you even uttering the phrase, “I want nothing more in life than to be a saint, and that means I have to do everything in my power to make you a saint as well.”

People don’t like that and they certainly are not going to sit back and let you just try to be a saint. They are not going to just say no, they are going to actively try to bring you down to their level. It is much easier to bring someone down to your sin rather than try to bring yourself up to imitate their resolve. This is why any time you try to work harder than anyone, lose weight, pray more, or improve your life, you will lose friends.

People hate when others are more successful then they are and they will try to stop them.

How to be Awesomely Holy – Part Two

I don’t know how else to say this other than to state the fact that the Communion of Saints is made up of people, so learn to like them now. That means you have to give more than you take. That means you have to make people your priority and you have to love them where they are. Stop trying to change everyone around you and just be holy and love them. If they ask for your advice, give it; otherwise, lead with your example.

Matthew’s slang terms are funny. Be sure to read the Rosy Gardener’s additions in the combox.

The beauty that matters is always on the inside

But it is often evidence of a life lived selflessly; of a person so focused on the needs of another that they have lost sight of themselves. Is that a cause for derision or a reason for congratulation? Would her time have been better spent slimming and exercising, plucking and waxing, bleaching and botoxing? Would that have made her voice any sweeter?

{snip}

Susan is a reminder that it’s time we all looked a little deeper. She has lived an obscure but important life. She has been a companionable and caring daughter. It’s people like her who are the unseen glue in society; the ones who day in and day out put themselves last. They make this country civilised and they deserve acknowledgement and respect.

h/t Praying for Grace

The boys’ opening day of baseball season is this Saturday. Their practice schedule hasn’t been too bad – mainly thanks to the weather which has drowned out most of the attempts of the coach to gather. And half the practices were during Holy Week, so they would have missed them anyway (the coach actually suggested batting practice for Sunday the 12th until I pointed out it was Easter Sunday).

But as baseball is gearing up, other activities are, mercifully, winding down. Three, count them, three more CCD classes. Billy has only four more den meetings for Cub Scouts. The girls have Girl Scouts today, and then only two more. Nine more weeks of piano and ballet before their final performances – but at least we can count that on two hands.

It’s not just the flowering trees and the blooming daffodils and the backyard mud patch sprouting grass and the empty tomb that are putting me in a good mood. It’s the sense of impending freedom. Where my highest priority is boiling noodles so I can make a pasta salad to take to the pool for dinner, and my to-do list consists of wishes, not mandates.

Nobody loves summer break more than a teacher.

Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.

It has been three months since the last major holiday.

In that time, I have not really done a good job of putting away the decorations. I did mange to (mostly) get them out of the living areas. I still occasionally find an M&M guy with a red stocking hat in the basket of baby toys. And it was only last week that I insisted the string of lights around the boys’ bedroom ceiling must come down and finally collected the extra nativity set from off the piano. Yes, a creche in April on my piano.

But worst of all has been the garage/dumping ground. Instead of wrapping them in protective paper and snuggling them in for a long summer’s nap, my army of nutcrackers has been forced to do sentry duty on a spare table. Plastic kids’ cups with gingerbread men on them, miscellaneous ornaments in various stages of wholeness, and the stray felt reindeer candy cane cover were piled nearby.

A bag of lights – do they work or not? A Christmas music CD – where is the cover? This package of 12 ornaments has only 10 – I know we started out in December with a full collection.

I firmly resolve, with your help, to do penance (clean the garage), to sin no more (I swear I will do better next year), and to avoid the near occasion of sin (except for the Easter baskets, I’m not getting out any other decorations).

Have mercy on me, Lord.