Oh, How I Dread Making Picot!

Posted on April 22, 2012 by DottieSzy

 “Rejoice in the Lord always.  I shall say it again; Rejoice! — Philippians 4:4

When I’m not quilting or writing, I enjoy crocheting.  I especially love to create lace doilies.  I learned crocheting when I was about 13 years old.  Drawing on my 40 plus years of

Doily with Picot Edging

experience, I estimate 85 percent of all crocheted doily patterns finish with a “picot” border edging.  Since I reserve the word hate for only the wickedest of the world’s atrocities, I’ll just say I strongly dislike making the picot stitch.  It’s as  annoying as it is tedious.  It is a tiny knot that, in the process of creating, you must turn back on itself in order to secure it.  The easy flow of other crochet stitches is brusquely interrupted due to the stopping, turning, twisting and contorting of both the crochet hook and my wrist just to make this little decorative “bump” of thread. 

Oh, but how beautiful it looks in the end.  I sometimes try to design another way to finish my doily, but nothing gives the finishing touch or looks quite as lovely and delicate as the little picots do.  For all my complaining, the tedium and stress is always worth enduring as I sit back and admire my final product.

Isn’t this a typical story of finales?  For example, I enjoy flying, except for landing.  It is inconceivable to me how those seemingly tiny wheels can handle the enormous weight — tons of it — of the plane, passengers and luggage as it drops down to the pavement traveling several hundred miles an hour.  In the moments before landing, I’m usually thinking to myself, “Are they sure they didn’t put too many suitcases on the plane this time?” Or, “Perhaps this is the one time that the check-in lady should not have allowed the suitcase weighing 50 1/2 pounds, owned by the handsome man with a kind smile, because now the weight has just slightly exceeded what those spindly-legged wheels can handle.” More often than not, I’m asking, “Lord, why did I have that second dessert last night?”

When I disembark to see someone I love waiting to hug me, the stress of landing quickly dissipates.  In the comforting embrace of a loved one, the momentary landing trauma melts into a miniscule disturbance and is quickly forgotten.  It was well worth suffering through the last leg of the trip to reach my destination.

It is almost always the case that the finishing touches or last-minute preparations cause the most stress in any celebration.  I am in the midst of planning a big party right now.  I already have a long “to-do” list of tasks which cannot be done until the week before or even the day before the event.  It will be stressful, but on the other side of that stress,

God's Orchestra

there will be happiness and beauty.  There will be colorful decorations and delicious foods.   There will be friends and family reunited and treasured memories revisited.  Mostly, there will be many loved ones celebrating the life of my 90-year-old Godmother, Dottie.

And so it is with the Easter Season.  The last few days of Holy Week are very difficult and stressful.  Besides the fasting and the final preparations, I try to find time to walk the Stations of the Cross.  Visualizing Jesus’ suffering takes a toll.  His mother’s pain is unimaginable.  Veronica’s attempt to give Jesus comfort always touches me in a deeply personal way.  Jesus is nailed to the cross.  He suffers, and dies . . . such horror and deep sadness.

Then, finally, He is Risen and Easter is here!  We celebrate with colorful decorations and delicious food.  Here in New England, Spring is in full swing.  The trees are coming alive and the flowers are beginning to bloom.  Every morning as the sun rises, it reminds me of stage

‘Nuff Said

curtains opening for a beautiful orchestral performance.  The birds begin singing a new song and each baby blossom seems to be trumpeting, “He died for us, giving us new life!”  To me, the Easter Season is like a gorgeous row of perfectly crocheted picots!  I’m just sitting back and admiring His work.

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March Gladness

Posted on March 19, 2012 by DottieSzy

“Do you not know that you are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwells in you?” — 1 Corinthians 3:16

My friend, Sr. Ann Gallagher (see November 1, 2010 post) would sometimes say, “It’s not about what we are not doing in Lent, but what we are doing.”  In other words, Lent is not just about going without  meat on Fridays.  Rather, it is a time we can use to improve our personal “temples.”

I deeply appreciate Lent.  Those of you who know me or have come to know me through my writings, are probably aware of how much I like to ponder over normal everyday occurrences.  Things that many would describe as coincidences are often the instances I deem open for introspection.   I probably could get a lot more accomplished in a day if I did not spend so much time thinking about it!  However, I consider Lent to be a perfect time for pondering.

Although I believe St. Paul’s words year round, it is during Lent when I most often stop to think about them and then work to be a better “temple” as I prepare for the Easter celebration.  In the Lenten season, I more often stop myself before making a negative comment or saying a bad word.  I make more of an effort to be cheerful even while performing the most mundane of tasks.  I take an extra minute or two each day to notice the beauty in my surroundings and the goodness in the people in my life.  I think a great deal about Jesus’ suffering both in the desert and on the cross, and how all of my problems pale in comparison.  Mostly, I work more fervently on projects of giving.

At mass on Sunday I was reminded of a story I once heard about Mother Teresa.  She was visiting a place of historical significance and needed to use the restroom.  When she returned to her hosts, she said, “The person who cleans the bathroom must really love Jesus!”  Mother Teresa was in an environment of beautiful art and amazing architecture, but she took the time to notice the cleanliness of the bathroom.  Her point was that those who truly love Jesus do their work really well and with joyful hearts no matter how seemingly menial the job.   Mother Teresa noticed because Joy is contagious.

I thought about that story because I noticed the cantor at my church this week truly loves Jesus.  Every time she speaks or sings, she is upbeat and excited.  I’m talking 7:30 a.m. mass here, and she’s up on the altar with an exuberant, welcoming smile.  She always puts me in a good mood because a smile is contagious.

Sr. Ann loved St. Patrick’s Day.  As I’m a  French girl married to a Polish guy, I never paid much attention to the day, until I got to know Sr. Ann and witnessed her excitement

For God so loved the world that he gave his only son, so that everyone who believes in him might not parish but might have eternal life. -- John 3:16

about it.  I’ll never forget seeing her proudly don her green wig!  Sr. Ann got me excited about St. Patrick’s Day because excitement is contagious.

It is hard not to miss Sr. Ann everyday, but especially this time of year.   All I can do, though, is to honor her and the other inspiring people in my life this Lenten season,  with smiles, excitement and joy, even if I’m just cleaning the bathroom!

Quote of the Day:  “I can’t be happy every day, but I can be cheerful!” — Beverly Sills

 

Me and Sr. Ann - March 2010

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I Wish Everyone Could have an Aunt Therese!

Posted on February 6, 2012 by DottieSzy

 “Love is patient, love is kind.  It is not jealous, love is not pompous, it is not inflated, it is not rude, it does not seek its own interests, it is not quick-tempered, it does not brood over injury, it does not rejoice over wrongdoing but rejoices with the truth.  It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.” — 1 Corinthians 13:4-7

A month to celebrate Love!

A week before Christmas, in the midst of moving my daughter out of her Manhattan apartment, I received a phone call.  My beloved Aunt Therese was rushed to the hospital.  She had a heart attack as she climbed the steps of the Baltimore Basilica near her home.  The fact she was attending Sunday mass in one of the holiest places in America did not protect her from the inevitable risks associated with human existence. 

The rest of the day was a blur as my husband and I carried boxes and furniture around the busy city block to the closest parking space we could find.  The hustle and bustle of holiday shoppers were oblivious to my intense worry as I balanced a cell phone to my ear while juggling a lamp in one hand and a box labeled “kitchen items” in the other.  I was frantic for information.  I did not know if my auntie had survived.

Aunt Therese is my mother’s twin.  It’s a special thing when your mother has a twin.  It’s like having another mother who is fun.  She loves you just as much as your mom does, but she doesn’t tell you to clean your room or not to date “that boy.”  My earliest favorite memories of Aunt Therese’s ways are still the qualities I hold dear today — her warm, loving hugs and her infectious, joyful laugh.

What is most impressive is her deep faith in God.  Aunt Therese has experienced the worst kinds of grief and loss.  She has lost her husband and two of her sons.  Her surviving son, Michael, endures multiple disabilities.  Despite all of this, my aunt not only still sees joy in life, she spreads it, and her faith in God does not waver.  In fact, her belief seems to get stronger with each new struggle, and her sense of humor is unmatched.

One time my aunt said to me, “You know, I really don’t care for St. Therese.”

This took me completely by surprise.  How could such a deeply Catholic woman not only say she did not care for a saint, but say it about a saint for whom she was named? St. Therese, a.k.a. “The Little Flower,” was canonized in 1925, just a year before the twins were born.  For a few years that followed, countless baby girls became this saint’s namesake.

I asked her, “Auntie, why would you say that?” and then she shared a vivid childhood memory:

“I remember being very little.  My parents had an iron-framed bed in the livingroom because there weren’t enough bedrooms with seven children.  This was a difficult time during the depression, and we had not had food in the house for three days.  My mother knelt every day praying to the portrait of St. Therese hanging over the head of the bed.  On the third day, as I, too, knelt praying a novena with her, my mother suddenly stood, pulled the portrait off the wall and smashed it on the iron bed.  I’ll never forget how she cried, ‘I am not praying for me!  I am praying for my children!’  A second later, the door bell rang.   The Salvation Army was on the doorstep with milk and bread.”

I had a lump in my throat as I thought about my grandmother begging an inanimate picture for milk for her hungry babies.  Although the vision of my grandmother’s suffering was intense, at that moment I was mostly overwhelmed with curiosity.

“If St. Therese answered Memé’s prayers by sending The Salvation Army, why don’t you like her?”

“Because,” my aunt said, “why did she make us wait three days?!”

Later, on that cold December afternoon, I received a call from a friend who was at my aunt’s hospital bedside.  He handed her his phone enabling her to talk to me.

“Dottie,” she said in her confident voice, “the priest came out of the Basilica and gave me the Last Rites so don’t worry.  I’m all set.”

“Well, I’m not!” I cried, while she continued to insist that I should not worry.

Just days later she had by-pass surgery.  The surgeon was positive that, although Therese was advanced in years, her heart was strong enough to endure such a major surgery.  He was right.

Aunt Therese has spent the last five and a half weeks in a rehabilitation center in Baltimore.  A couple of weeks ago, I traveled down and was able to visit her every day for six days.  Each time I walked into her room, she told me I was beautiful.  She loves my new haircut, the way I wore a scarf, or the way my earrings so nicely matched my sweater.  She is always full of compliments and has the nicest way of saying things.  She can even

Aunt Therese with my daughter, Laura

make me feel good about my ‘thunder’ thighs.  “You can’t help them,” she’d say, “they run in the family.”

My intention was to help her days go more smoothly and to cheer her on through the difficult physical therapy.  As usual, she was the one who helped me.  Every day she lifted my spirits and enhanced my mood.  At times she said, “God still wants me here for some reason, but I don’t know why.”

Auntie, this is what I absolutely believe to be true.  You are here for the rest of us.  You inspire everyone who crosses your path with your moving stories, your beautiful smile, your melodic singing, and especially, the way you live your life.  Hearing your laughter is like feeling the warm sunshine peer through a cloud-filled sky.  Most of all, you perfectly demonstrate the true meaning of love, thereby giving us the gift of God’s example of how it’s supposed to be done.  That’s your job and the Boss is not ready to hand you retirement papers just yet!

Aunt Therese is going home tomorrow to her apartment near the Baltimore Basilica.  Thank you, Lord!

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Friendship is Godship

Posted on January 21, 2012 by DottieSzy

 “And how does this happen to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me?  For at the moment the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the infant in my womb leaped for joy.  Blessed are you who believed that what was spoken to you by the Lord would be fulfilled.”  Mary remained with her about three months and then returned to her home. — Luke 1: 43-45; 56

During this past Advent season in my daily reflection booklet, I read this by Reverend Henri Nouwen:

The Sacred Encounter – I am deeply moved by the simple and mysterious encounter [of the Visitation] . . . Two women meet each other and affirm in each other the promise given to them.  The humanly impossible has happened to them.  God has come to them to begin the salvation promised through the ages.  Through these two women God has decided to change the course of history.  Who could ever understand?  Who could ever believe it?  Who could ever let it happen . .  . For three months Mary and Elizabeth live together and encourage each other to truly accept the motherhood given to them.  Mary’s presence makes Elizabeth more fully aware of becoming the mother of the “prophet of the most High” (Luke 1:76), and Elizabeth’s presence allows Mary to grow in the knowledge of becoming the Mother of the “Son of the Most High” (Luke 1:32).  The story of the Visitation teaches me the meaning of friendship and community.  How can I ever let God’s grace fully work in my life unless I live in a community of people who can affirm it, deepen it, and strengthen it?  [Advent and Christmas – Wisdom from Henri J.M. Nouwen]

As it generally happens this time of year, a peaceful January has rolled into its

Lovely January!

rightful place following the hectic frenzy of the beautiful Christmas season.  To me this means I pack up my crocheting and the latest spiritually-moving books along with my most comfy clothes and head for Our Lady of Calvary for a much needed retreat with my friends.

This year I spent time recalling last year’s retreat with a smile.  It was before my daughter’s wedding and I was experiencing anxiety as I anticipated all the possible things that could go wrong.  I already had three or four “I arrive at the wedding in my underwear” nightmares.  Here it was less than five months until the wedding and I was yet to even begin my search for a proper mother-of-the-bride gown. 

It had been a number of years since I shopped for such formal attire.  My own wedding dress was stitched together using material I found on the bargain table at the local fabric store.  Created with white eyelet, unbleached muslin and imitation pearl lace, my gown cost around $35, and was perfectly fine for our “Love Story” wedding.  However, times have changed and “quiet elegance” seemed a more fitting description of my daughter’s upcoming wedding.  As I don’t see myself as either “quiet” or “elegant,” I turned to my friends for help and advice while on retreat.  There may have been some crying and whining involved, as well.

The MOMs (Mornings of Meditation, Trinita), a.k.a. my fantastic friends for the better part of twenty years, were eager to help.  Some of them were anxious to attack this momentous challenge so as the retreat drew to a close with prayers and hasty goodbyes, Linda, Annette, Deb and Pam whisked me off to the mall.

Though shedding five pounds over the weekend would have been optimum but not possible, it was important that I shed something else — shyness about others seeing my body!  I truly needed my friends in every aspect of this process.  They tugged, pulled, buttoned, zipped and unzipped getting me in and out of those luxurious garments.  There

In the garden of life, friends are the flowers!

was at least one close call when I feared I would be forced to purchase a dress simply because my neck, collar-bone and one shoulder was wedged in the tail portion of the mermaid-style skirt.  That could have been an interesting ride to the emergency room, but my friends persevered and soon I was set free and on to the next selection.

In addition to their kind patience and incredible good taste, my friends were something else truly invaluable that day — they were honest.  “Nope, not good,” they would tell me and I would turn right around back into the fitting room, trusting completely in the women whom I love and whom I knew wanted only the best for me as they always had.  And I, too, always wish only the best for them.

I remember reading somewhere (I wish I could remember where), in one of my “spiritually-moving” books, a story about a pastor who went to see a member of his community who had not been attending church services.   He found the man in his home sitting in a comfortable chair next to a cozy hearth fire. 

The pastor asked, “Why haven’t you come to services?”

The man answered, “I believe in God, but I don’t need anything that church has to offer.”

The man continued his explanation while the pastor had picked up the fire poker and began moving the embers and coals around in the fireplace.  He moved one glowing coal off to one side while he piled the other coals all together in one pile.  As you can imagine, the pile of coals burned hotter while the lone coal began to go out and lose its glow.

The pastor explained, “Just like this single piece of coal can no longer do its job to keep you warm without the help of the other coals, every person needs the community of others to be the person God wants each of us to be.”

We did not find a dress that day, but my friends did not give up.  Within another few weeks and a couple more dress shops, we found the perfect dress for me.  Through the process, and through many other ordeals over the years, my friends and I have laughed, cried, shouted, teased, whined and complained.  Mostly though, we have prayed for each other and for others.  While endeavoring to complete what I considered to be an overwhelming task, my friends made it fun and kept me sane.  More importantly,  they kept me faith-filled.

October 15, 1977 - My Wedding Day!

May 28, 2011 - Laura and Taylor's Wedding Day!

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Light is Nice, but Hot Coffee is Better!

Posted on November 6, 2011 by DottieSzy

“Then God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light.” — Genesis 1:3

November 2, 2011— As I write this, with a pen and paper, Ted and I are well into Day

"Happy Kitty"

Four of no electricity following the “freak” October 29th snow storm.  Our corner of Connecticut received 18 inches of heavy, wet snow from the storm, now wittily termed “Snowtober” by broadcasters.  Mother Nature played a Halloween trick we’ll not soon forget.

We are managing better than most.  We have a wood stove keeping us warm.  We have a camp stove for cooking.  And we have a small generator which Ted runs for short spurts twice a day.  The generator enables us to run the well pump and maintain refrigeration. 

Living in a rural area, power outages are nothing new, however, one going on for several days is unusual.  As is the case when other unexpected events occur, I am forced to stop and think deeply.  I think about all that I take for granted – the ease of getting a hot shower, the convenience of drying my hair, the simplicity of washing clothes and dishes, and the sheer joy of brewing a cup of fresh, delicious, heavenly coffee.

I think about the pre-Edison days when the average person’s routine ended with the setting sun, as ours has these last few days.  I think about all the modern technology required to foster my passions — the oven, the computer, the internet, the phone, and, the most missed, my sewing machine.  I think about what coping skills I would need to tap into should I ever lose those things for good.

In recent years I have worked at the practice of just “being.”  Reading advice from Conrad Baars, C. S. Lewis and Mother Teresa (to name just a few) has helped me to see I was in a chronic cycle of constantly doing.  I was in a trap (one which I still struggle to stay clear of) to define myself by the things I had accomplished rather than by who I was as a person.  Socrates said, “Beware of the barrenness of a busy life.”  That quote makes you think, doesn’t it?  When I find myself in a perpetual frenzy of “to do” lists and unrealistic schedules, I do all I can to break free even if it’s only for a short while.  I go into what I call Popeye mode — “I am what I am” and God loves what I am!

There’s nothing quite like a power outage to help center you into “just being.”  On day one,

"Snowtober" October 29, 2011 - Barkhamsted, Connecticut

I thought a lot about what I could not do.  On day four, I am thinking about what I can do.   I can write and relish in the gifts of ballpoint pens and sturdy paper (as opposed to a chisel and slate or a quill and parchment).  I can crochet by the glorious sunlight.  I can read a spine-tingling mystery novel to my heart’s content.  I can graciously lose (multiple times!!) at playing Scrabble with my husband.  Best of all, I can sit with God while just being me.

NOTE:  The power returned about six hours after I wrote the above post.  Thank you to my wonderful husband, Ted.  Because he is always ready for emergencies, we were safe, warm and cozy through the ordeal.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to brew some coffee!

Posted in God's Whisper | 5 Comments

How Did I Get Here?

Posted on October 6, 2011 by DottieSzy

“Man’s steps are from the Lord; how then, can a man understand his way?” — Proverbs 20:24

Beautiful Journey

The other day my daughter, Robin, asked me to write down a certain word in shorthand.  Though I know I am dating myself by revealing this, I am proud to say I still remember how to write in shorthand, a skill I learned in high school a few short decades ago.

Robin was working on an art project for a company logo.  She thought using the shorthand would be a creative way to go.  I don’t want to reveal the company name, however, it was an unusual word. I was pretty sure of how to write it, but it suddenly came to me I could check my accuracy because I still had my handy little, pocket-size Gregg Shorthand Dictionary packed away somewhere in my home. 

Surprisingly, I dug through only a couple of desk drawers before finding it.  Another surprise was having to dig through another drawer to find a magnifying glass in order to read the darn thing.  I do not recall having this problem back when I was in school regularly perusing the book. 

It’s funny how a simple request can get you thinking about your whole life.  I began adulthood preparing to be a legal secretary, and for a short time, that’s exactly what I was, until I felt a yearning for mothering.  Over the years while volunteering and serving my church and community, God seemed to illuminate new paths for me to follow.  As needs arose, I discovered I had gifts to offer.  Secretarial Science has become a distant memory – – – well, except for the shorthand, which has come in handy from time to time, especially during the years I was a newspaper correspondent. 

How often have we heard similar stories?   I’ve heard it from friends, relatives and even celebrities.  I once heard an actor say he was only keeping his friend company as she tried out for a part in a movie.  Suddenly, this guy was asked to read for a part and the next thing he knew, his name was up in lights!  Almost everyone, usually by the time they are middle-aged, will admit they are not doing what they started out doing after finishing school.

I would bet most of these shifts in careers happened because a need arose which had to be dealt with.  In my faith-sharing gatherings, it is often said, “God does not choose the qualified.  He qualifies the chosen.”  I believe when a “need” is put before you, God is saying, “You can do this” and it’s just too hard to say “no” to God.

"Make your plans, but do it in pencil."

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United In Faith

Posted on September 11, 2011 by DottieSzy

“God  indeed is my savior; I am confident and unafraid.  My strength and my courage is the Lord and He had been my savior.” — Isaiah 12:2

"God Bless America"

I am not sure what I can write about today that would make any kind of impression compared to all the heart warming and heart wrenching stories I have heard on the news in the weeks leading up to this momentous anniversary.  Countless stories of unbelievable courage, terrible  grief and amazing coincidences have been shared, and I am sure  more will be told for many years to come.  The horrific, deadly attack on our country touched us all, embedding a memory in each of our minds.  Our stories are unique as they are tethered to our individual circumstances of that time.  On that terrifying morning, my husband and I were overwhelmed with concern for our daughter who had just begun her freshman year at Manhattan College.

The unity of American citizens is no doubt the most indisputable narrative of  the 9/11 days.  We were united in grief and pain.  We were united in anger and anguish.  Most importantly, we were united in hope with a new focus on a new challenge.  We reaffirmed for ourselves what is truly important — our faith, our family, our friends and our communities .  We stopped taking our freedom for granted, and we said so. 

We robustly began to express our gratitude for our service men and women.  We thank them and their families for their sacrifices.  Many new organizations emerged.  “Quilts of Valor, (www.qovf.org),” “Operation Gratitude (www.opgratitude.com),” “Socks for Soldiers (www.socksforsoldiers.com),” and “Wounded Warrior (www.woundedwarriorproject.org)” are just a few of the groups with whom I have become familiar.  There are hundreds more.

My priest, Father Tim, said it so well this morning.  While we can never fully understand why there is evil or why such tragic events happen, most of us know how to respond.   If we couldn’t physically be there to save lives or clean up the debris, as tens of thousands were, we volunteered our time and energy in as many ways as we could to help, and we continue to do so today.  I believe this is God at work.  We are His voice, eyes, ears, hands, legs and heart. 

Once when I was going through a difficult time, I received a card from a friend with this poem on it.  I regret that I do not know the author.  It simply says what I believe to be true.  God is here for us even in very difficult times.

I know that He lives . . . For I saw Him today in a hand that was offered to me on my way, in the warmth of a smile that was offered to cheer me, in the touch of a friend who took time just to hear me.  I heard His voice in the words of support whispered to me when my hope had run short.  Yes, I know that He lives for I see how He sends His love every day In the caring of friends. 

I welcome and appreciate your sharing on this very difficult anniversary.

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My Lamb in Sheep’s Clothing

Posted on April 21, 2011 by DottieSzy

Mother-Daughter Sewing Time in 2007

“Every good tree bears good fruit and a rotten tree bears bad fruit.  So, by their fruits you will know them.” —  Matthew 7:17 & 20

So, there I was alone in the car, traveling a major highway and lost in thought. My heart was  swollen with pride for my children and their accomplishments, when I glanced up to notice a billboard displaying the above scripture from Matthew.  A mini “jolt” from above to redirect my thoughts and to inspire me to write in my Blog!

I was heading home after spending some time with my younger daughter, Robin, who is a  college senior majoring in Graphic Design.  Last weekend was her Portfolio Review, an event organized for graphic design majors to display the culmination of  their four years spent mastering techniques and honing skills.   Walking into the media center, I was overwhelmed by a multitude of unique textures and a sea of brilliant colors.  Each booth was hosted by a young adult explaining his or her particular art forms, but Robin was not immediately visible.  It required some maneuvering around a crowd of people and a maze of tables, but eventually I turned a corner and there she was.  Dressed for business and ready for the world, she held a professional stance as she spoke with those checking out her booth.   I suddenly realized, my little lamb has grown up!

My older daughter, Laura, is already well into adulthood.  Having followed in her father’s footsteps, she is an accomplished engineer.  Next month she is going to marry a wonderful, kind young man.  On my long drive home, it’s no wonder my mind was on the coming events –a college graduation and a wedding — and on how grateful I am to God that our children have grown to be well-rounded, kind and giving people.  That’s when I saw the billboard.

Of course, Jesus was not referring to our children when talking about “fruits” in this passage.  He was referring to the deeds that people do.  “Beware of wolves in sheep’s clothing” (Matthew 7:15) and pay attention to what people actually do, rather than what they say.  However, I was in my own little world thinking about the “fruits” of my womb and how they have become the people they are today, and wondering if I had anything to do with it?

I remember once reading in a parental advice column something along the lines of you should not take credit for your children’s accomplishments unless you also want to take responsibility for their mistakes.  I decided right then and there not to take credit for their accomplishments (well, most of the time), but I did try to be a good mother.

As I look back, I recall being a phenomenal parent before I had even given birth.  Once or twice I spoke up when surrounded by unruly kids, saying things like “my children will never be disobedient” and “my children will never cry in public places.”  One of my most regrettable declarations was an emphatic promise that no child of mine would ever consume sugar and would only view quality television shows.  How often I ate those words as I handed my pre-schooler a bag of M & Ms while sitting her in front of a Scooby-Doo cartoon.  It seemed a small price to pay for a few minutes of peace.

Now that my daughters are adults, it seems I have once again attained “Superb Mom” status.  As they are doing so well, it is easy for me to spout my successes and make recommendations to other struggling parents — “this is how it’s done.”  However, it’s no great task to be the perfect parent before actually being one or after the children are on their own.  It is in the midst of dirty diapers, cranky napless days, ornery teenagers and many, many difficult unforeseen circumstances which occur over a 20-year span, that challenges parents to do the right things or say the right words while in the moment of chaos.  More often than not, I found myself saying, “I wish I had done this” or “I should have said that.”  When it comes to parenting, I believe what truly matters is how you are most of the time, and how good are the “deeds” your children are witnessing.

Many times in the bible, Jesus asks us to do good deeds and to share our gifts with others.  There are no recipients of such gifts more important than our children.  One day, when you see them share their gifts, it is indescribable joy!

 

 

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Tell Me A Little Something About Myself

Posted on March 15, 2011 by DottieSzy

“And it happened that, while he was with them at table, he took bread, said the blessing, broke it and gave it to them.   With that their eyes were opened . . .” — Luke 24:30-31

I recently attended a spiritual weekend retreat at Our Lady of Calvary in Farmington, Connecticut.  I take this little reprieve from life every winter.  Each time I go, I learn something new about myself.  This strikes me as funny because I have known “me” for a very long time, practically my whole life!  How can there still be things I don’t know?

When I first began to attend these mini-getaways, it was a conscious decision to take a well-deserved break from the chronic pandemonium that was my life – a.k.a. child rearing and housekeeping.  As my daughters grew to be more independent and were doing much of the housework, I felt I still needed the time away with my sister and my friends, as well as a desire to use the opportunity to shake up my dull routine.  Now I’m in the empty-nest phase of my life.  My children are adults living on their own.  My country home is surrounded by swaying trees and pondering deer.  Why should I feel the need to leave this picture-perfect setting to attend a retreat where I must share a bathroom?  The answer always comes when the weekend is over as I’m on driving home.

This year the retreat’s theme was “Blessed, Broken and Shared.”  The visual was of Jesus

Blessed, Broken and Shared, a Lifesaver!

blessing, breaking and sharing the bread.  The message was of gifts, heartaches and lessons learned.  We all have blessings, brokeness and the opportunity to share with others.  Most often the blessings and brokeness are not within our control, but the opportunities to learn from and share of these experiences are always within our grasp.

Since many of the quilts I have made were for people whose lives were broken in some way, I have witnessed brokeness in many forms.  Young expectant mothers bring me their deceased mother’s clothing.  If I can transform Mom’s favorite robe and cherished blouse into a baby quilt, it can feel as if the new baby will be comforted by Grandma’s embrace.  A quilt made with Dad’s sports shirts offers special memories for a grieving child, while a quilt made with Grandmother’s handkerchiefs can go a long way to erase memories of her suffering through illness.  The prayer quilts, upon which friends and family can permanently affix messages of hope and affirmation to their loved one, are especially uplifting during the most difficult times.

 St. Paul wrote we should “boast of our afflictions” (Romans 5:3) because we will be stronger for having suffered.  To this I would add we become stronger, too, for walking with others as they suffer through trials of life.  On retreat, there is plenty of sharing among the retreatants, each of us at various stages of blessings, brokeness and sharing.  We cry, hug, and also “boast” of how we kept growing in faith.  We pray for miracles, but more importantly, we find ourselves in the midst of miracles.  As we emerge from the despair from whatever difficult card we were dealt, we  recognize our strength, we value our lesson learned, and we seek ways to help others.  Many times we turn our suffering into something positive.  That is a miracle!

During lent, my thoughts often contemplate Veronica (Stations of the Cross #6).  She so deeply suffered seeing Jesus in pain as He walked toward crucifixion, she ran to Him to wipe His face with a cloth.  It was all she could do.  She could not stop His journey or prevent His death.  All she could do was offer a small amount of comfort.  Have you ever felt this way when you see someone you love suffering toward the end of life?  Veronica probably wished she could have fought off the soldiers freeing Jesus away from His agonizing destiny.  She probably begged God to make it all stop, but it was not to be.  I know I have experienced those same feelings when facing the loss of a loved one, but, like Veronica, all I could do was give them a modicum of comfort.  I did what I could do, as we all must do.

Through this quilting ministry, I listen to the stories of heartache and I witness the survival.  I see the struggles, the healing and the coping.  I have come to understand how God’s gift to me of creativity can play a role in the miracles following the affliction.  I am very blessed! 

Check out:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xKiM4BshSds

 

Mother's Handkerchiefs

 

 

Love from Grandmother

Father-Daughter Memories

Posted in God's Whisper | 1 Comment

Sew Much To Do

Posted on January 12, 2011 by DottieSzy

Martha, burdened with much serving, came to Him and said, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me by myself to do the serving?  Tell her to help me.”  The Lord said to her in reply, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and worried about many things.  There is need of only one thing.  Mary has chosen the better part and it will not be taken from her.”          –Luke 10:40-42 

It is really snowing heavily today.  In all the years I have lived in New England, I can’t remember too many snow storms quite this big.  As I sit here trapped at home, I am thinking about all the work I could get done today.  There are the Christmas decorations to put away, there’s all the extra laundry still piled high from having guests over the holidays, and then there’s my paperwork, forever looming and never ending.  However, it just feels like a perfect day to quilt. 

"Beautiful Day!"

About a dozen or so years ago, two friends each gave me the same gift — a calendar for “Women Who Do Too Much” by Anne Wilson Schaef.   It was one of those daily inspiration calendars where each day of the year offered a meditation, a little hope and a good reason to change such destructive behavior.  I kept one and re-gifted the other. 

At the time, it wasn’t all that clear to me why my friends believed I needed such help.  It became clearer, though, when one day in June, I realized I had been too busy to take the time to turn any of the calendar pages.  The first page still offered a Happy New Year!  I tore off 173 pages in one hard tug revealing a message I’ll never forget (paraphrasing):

 “Women who do too much believe they cannot have fun until all of their work is done, so they never have fun.”

God speaks to us in the most unexpected ways.  Sometimes His voice is a quiet whisper and other times it’s like He is shouting through a megaphone.  My eardrums were nearly vibrating on that June day.  Oh my, Lord, was this ever true of me.

My entire life passed before my eyes.  There was no going out to play until my room was clean.  No watching my favorite show until the dishes were done.  No sewing until I had completed my homework.

Since my love of sewing, art and crafting began when I was a young child, I sometimes had to stifle my creative juices until my work was done, or worse, I did my creating in secret while my mother was probably thinking I was working out algebra equations.  I honestly remember feeling guilty while crocheting an afghan  because I knew I should have instead had my nose in my chemistry textbook.

This mindset made its way into my adulthood.  How often I said to myself, “Ok when I finish the laundry and the ironing . . . when the kids are in school . . . when the dishes are done . . . when everyone is sleeping . . . and THEN I can quilt!  With the help of that little calendar, I had a revelation — THE WORK IS NEVER DONE SO WHY DO I KEEP TRYING TO REACH THAT IMPOSSIBLE GOAL?!

From time to time, someone will say to me, “I love to quilt, but I no longer have the time.”  This always makes me feel incredibly sad.  Ben Irwin said, “Most of us spend our lives as if we have another one in the bank.”  When I hear someone say they don’t make the time for something they love to do, I wonder, when will there be time? Do you have another life waiting to be tapped?

When I began to think of my skills and talents as gifts from God, I began to see how not making the time to use these special abilities was also to deny God.  When I thought about quilting as another way to pray, I realized that putting it last on my “to do” list was the same as putting God last. 

Teaching children about the importance of work and getting it done is very important.  We all have crucial work to do and we all have to learn responsible behavior.  I really wasn’t much different as a mother than my mother was in that regard.  I tried to teach my daughters to be responsible and get their work done, too.  I shutter to think about the condition of the world if all us just stopped doing our chores or if we all decided to quit our jobs.  

At times I have thought about being present with Martha and Mary when Jesus came to visit.  Most likely I would have been helping Martha all that I could.   I can see myself going to Martha’s defense with my arm around her shoulders saying, “Well, Jesus, it’s all well and fine to sit and listen to you, but when you’re done talking, you are going to want to eat!”  I’m sure Jesus would have explained to me what I have come to know in my heart — it’s all about balance and it’s about loving Jesus no matter what we are doing.

Today I will do some quilting and some housework.  I will do the quilting first when I am at my best and wide awake. Then I will do some housework later when I am tired and less focused.  God gave me special gifts.  I owe it to him to give my best self when I use them.

 

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