Give Thanks

"If you only had today, what you thanked God for yesterday....

what would you have?"

- Anonymous

    Well, I'd certainly have my little sisters. Even though last night we were playfully bickering over pajama pants, blankets and hair dye, I thanked God for them. You see, every time I come home, my sisters and I pull out our true Gutherman. To be a true Gutherman, one must be able to stand up for oneself, take a punch, throw a punch, use words wisely, be able to run for your life or after someone else's life, and never forget to say I love you. Oh yeah, and eat like the stomach is a bottomless pit. And so, being home, my little sisters and I engage in various activities like chasing each other around the house, dying hair, eating lots of food (I have right reason...I'm at college, folks) and snuggling while watching movies and complaining about who is touching who with their feet. Yep, we are true siblings.

    Today, for the first time in a very long time, I went back to my Parish for Mass. It was just myself and Mary, my middle sister, so while she went up to the altar to cantor, I sat in a little pew, more than half way back by myself. I closed my eyes, and quite honestly started to fall asleep. For a few minutes, my mind and heart floated between slumber and prayer. It wasn't until two little giggly girls ran up the aisle and sat on my lap, did I wake up. These little ones, Megan and Caleigh, have been in my life for a long, long time. Every time we happen to be at Mass together, they come and sit with me. They snuggle up under my arms and sing, read and pray with me. It's precious! And so, like usual, after they jumped on me, they snuggled up. A few minutes later, my littlest sister popped into the pew, too. There I was, me and my three little girls squished in a pew, each with a book. 

    My favorite part of going home aside from seeing all the members of my beloved Parish family, is sitting with all the children. In the middle of Mass, I saw one of the Parish moms look back and simply smile. This is a very typical moment every Sunday I am home: Becca and the little ones. The best part about this is how innocently we all sing together. Being so young, they have no sense of keys or harmonies, as I have after so many years of singing, but it is still perfect. Their voices are so clear and innocent. I love it. In addition to the little ones surrounding me with song, I could hear Mary singing from the altar beautifully. So, even though I couldn't be with her up there, I harmonized with her from my pew.

     After Mass, another Parishioner came up to me and said, "I love to hear you and all the kiddies singing. When you're home, do you sing with your sisters all the time?" I laughed and honestly admitted that usually we are yelling and screaming at each other (because none of us can communicate in a normal tone of voice) and the house is usually filled with laughter. Quite a few times, I heard how blessed people were to have me back home. I collected smiles and laughs and good words in my heart from my Parish family. I couldn't help but thank God for the blessing they instantly became for me. 

    I am so thankful and grateful this Thanksgiving for my family, for good food and for love. But in particular, I am thankful for my Parish family, especially Megan and Caleigh, who continuously bring me toward God. They don't know it, and probably wouldn't understand it, but they brought me such hope, such happiness today. With their innocent smiles and laughter during Mass, and precious prayers, yes, they brought me hope and they brought me home this Thanksgiving. And of course, I'm so thankful for my very Gutherman sisters who can always bring me laughter and tears no matter what the day. I love them and I know I am so blessed. 

    And so, if tomorrow I wake up with all that I thanked God for today, I'd have my sisters, my family, and my Parish family. And even though, I didn't thank God for all of the material goods I have like a bed, heat, running water and food, I'd survive. Because if I thanked God for the material goods but not the people that mean the most to me, I'd still have nothing. But with them, I have everything. I could live without comfort, food and water, but not without my family. It's a reminder to me that yes, those are "added pluses" to my life, "extra blessings" and I thank God for them, but only after I thank Him for the most important people in my life. Thanks God, for all those people. And of course, for the added blessings You have given me!

Counting The Tears

"Don't ever discount the wonder of your tears. 

They can be healing waters and a stream of joy.

Sometimes they are the best words a heart can speak."

- W. Paul Young, The Shack

     "You have a history with 'Mikes'," she said to me. "Yeah, I guess I do," I answered wiping snot and tears off my face. I had been curled up in a ball on the last seat in the last row of chairs in Chapel when she walked in. I was literally sitting in the fetal position, with my head down, sobbing. Not even five minutes before another sister had walked through the "magic door" and found me there. She gently came over, stood beside me, with her hand on my shoulder and said, "Cry, just let it out. I'll pray. You cry." Five minutes later, my dear sister walked in and found me. I hate, hate, hate crying in front of people, especially people whose idea of me is the "tough as nails" girl. Yet, I just continued to sob as these two sisters walked in and sat with me. It was the type of crying where you can't really breathe right, or even talk higher than a whisper, because  the tears are just continually running down your face. It was the type of cry, where I just wanted to fall into someone's lap and stay there, protected from the horrible news I just heard. As I sit here to write this, I sob again, mourning not only a friend, or a fellow parishioner, but rather, someone who was like another father to me my whole life. 

     He was a sarcastic man, with a brutal sense of humor. You had to learn to understand him. He was a rough and tumble type of man, like mot people from Croydon. He never took any crap from anyone. He came off as mean and bitter and wicked, but we all knew that was just Mike. Inside, he cared more about you than he often let on. I know this for a fact because he always told me that if anyone tried to hurt me, he'd have to use a lot of self-restraint not to kill them. Truth is, he probably would. He wasn't afraid to tell people how he felt, or what he thought, even if he was wrong. It often seemed as if he was made of cast-iron and maybe some brick, too. Yet (and he'd kill me for saying this but it's true...), he was marshmallow soft instead. How do I know? He told me my voice was good enough to make a grown man cry, tears of awe. And after he said that, he told me if anyone but me sang at his funeral, he'd jump right out of his casket and raise hell. These are all direct quotations, I promise. He made me promise with my whole heart that I would do all I could to make sure I sang at his funeral. I never thought I'd have to do it from my pew so soon. 

     Most people don't get the close-knit network my Parish has. It literally is like I have so many fathers, so many mothers and so many brothers and sisters. The sign of peace takes forever, because we HAVE to say hello  to everyone. The saying, "It takes a whole community to raise a child" definitely applies to EVERY SINGLE KID that grew up in Croydon. We are all so close with one another and so right now, we're all mourning with one another. I can't tell you how many Facebook messages and texts I've gotten from my parish family members, all of us in tears, just sobbing over the phone or the internet. Losing Mr. Frat, is losing a part of my family, losing a part of myself. People shake their heads at how upset I get when something happens to my parish, but they just don't understand. This is family. This is what sustains me in prayer and love and faith and humor. And the hardest part about being away from all of them right now, is that I have to cry alone physically. I know spiritually and emotionally, they are all carrying this sorrow with me. But it's hard. I just wish I could be home. 

      This is a lesson in trust, I know. I have to trust God on this. And I also think this is God telling me, I'm getting soft in my old age. I mean, I seriously just told the whole world I'm sobbing and mourning. I've got to really trust God in this situation. I've got to trust that He knows what He is doing. And I've got to trust that He'll send me someone here with big open arms, willing to get their shoulders soaked, and hold me in a long hug while I try to count my tears. 

       Thanks all for the prayers and support. I know the family really appreciates it. 

Easter Never Tasted So Good - Welcome Back, Jesus

"Well end your suffering, little man. Why don't you pack up your gear and clear outta here?" 

- West Side Story

     

    Welcome back, JC! Easter is always an amazing time for reflection and thus, I have so many thoughts for you to ponder. First things first: since I'm not a sister yet, I don't have a set outfit to wear everyday. And let's be honest, when I was younger, I absolutely despised shopping. But it became a bonding thing with my cousin and now I find it quite enjoyable. Especially when I find the perfect Easter dress (see below)! Since my cousin and are away at school, however, we can't go shopping together. So our compromise is that every time we have a new outfit, we have to post a picture on the other's facebook. Today, I did just that. Someone else intercepted the picture and helped me realize that I looked just like Maria from West Side Story, so that explains the quotation above. But really, let's think about it for a hot sec...no one told Jesus He had to leave the tomb except His Father. But if His Father was in West Side Story, He might have said something like that. Did you ever hear a Daddy call his son, little man? Often I refer to my little cousins as little man and little princess. So, it's like God the Father saying, "Ok little man, end your suffering. Get up and move out!" Now if God was like my Daddy, He would have gone into the tomb, tickled JC's feet and said, "Wakey, wakey eggs and bakey!!" Actually, I can easily imagine God saying to Jesus on Easter Morning, "Come on, Son. Get up. We've got things to do today. Let's go!" Imagine God like your Daddy...how would He wake you up on Easter morning?

      Second thing: I'm not sure if many of you reading this have the understanding of what YOLO means. Let me explain. It's a hot trend on twitter and it's an acronym just like LOL or BRB. YOLO means "You Only Live Once." It winds up at the end of a risky tweet in the form of a hashtag looking like #YOLO. So for example, I would tweet, "Pulling an all nighter before observations telling Ghost Stories #YOLO" or "Going exploring for Mary's Lake in galoshes #YOLO" and so on...so basically anything one would do because he or she only lives once. Make sense? Ok, good. So now, I was checking Twitter yesterday and someone tweeted "Jesus died for our sins #thanks #YOLO" but the truth is, it was inaccurate. Jesus, technically didn't "only live once" because He died and came back to life. I shook my head in laughter. This morning, I get a tweet on my phone thank says, "Welcome back, Jesus #thanks #YORO (You only rose once)" Now how's that for accuracy? 

     Third thing: When you went to church as a kid with your family, or even now with your family, did you only sit with your family in a pew? Now granted, if you're like my Dad's family, all of you took up a whole pew, so there was no room to share. But most of you had families like mine, five or six people. And most likely one or two of the kids were either in the choir or altar serving, so there was plenty of room to share a pew with. And if you're a Parish like mine, no one cares about awkwardly sitting with six different families over two pews, and most likely the kids sitting between you and your parents aren't related to you in any way AND your little sister is probably sitting on some other mom's lap because your mom is busy with the other little kids trying to find the song in the songbook AND your dad is holding hands with your best friends mom during the Our Father and it's ok. That more or less happened this morning at my Parish. At the beginning of Mass, my mom and dad were sitting next to me and then my little sister on my other side. Our middle sister was in the choir loft. Next to her was another choir kid's parents and next to them, some random Grandma everyone knew. Behind us were three more families with six other kids. By the Homily, one of the little girls behind us dropped her doll in our pew and I somehow had my seat moved twice. After Communion when all the seating gets rearranged, I was now at the total opposite of where I started out and there was now a little one behind me poking my stomach as I knelt because it was hilarious to see me flinch every time. As we were all awaiting the final song announcement, the two moms behind me who were now sitting next to each other were trying to send me signals about how school was going. Finally, we were singing the final hymn, dancing and clapping our hands like Jesus had just risen that morning...oh wait...He did. All seating arrangements aside, what I'm trying to say is this: Easter is a morning when people we don't necessarily see all the time, come to church (myself included...college girl problems...) and...sit in our seats. So, we smush together and we don't mind. You know that common phrase, "It takes a whole village to raise a child?" Well, consider my Parish family, my village. People I saw this morning commented on how much I've grown up, how wonderful it is to see me back and of course, they had plenty of hugs to give me and I to give them in return. For a quick second, I imagined myself coming back to my Parish as a sister, having the same thing happen, except, my Pew would probably be filled with even more families and little kids. If all the kids had their choice, they would probably all try to sit on my lap at once! I know a lot of people don't like feeling claustrophobic in church, but that's something my Parish family thrives on...we just LOVE to smush together in one pew all the time. 

    Final thought: Lent is over. This means, we can go back to those things we gave up. As many of you know, I gave up coffee (more or less the greatest cross I've carried during Lent). While I wasn't as anxious as I thought I was going to be to have my first cup of coffee in forty days, it was still so great to have that warm elixir of life drip down my throat. Mhmm...coffee. When I grabbed the first cup I found in the cupboard, I didn't realize what it said. When I sat down to start my blog, that's when I realized. It says, "I love you with all of my heart." My favorite prayer leaflet in my Liturgy of the Hours book says, "With all of my heart, with all of my heart, I love you." It was just a quiet little "Thank you" from Jesus for my sacrifice this Lent. That made the forty days all the more rewarding. Thanks Jesus. Thanks for dying, thanks for rising, and thanks for letting me know my sacrifice meant something to You, too. 

Happy Easter All!