{this moment} – A Friday ritual. A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. If you’re inspired to do the same, visit Soulemama to leave a link to your ‘moment’ in the comments for all to find and see.
{this moment} – A Friday ritual. A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. If you’re inspired to do the same, visit Soulemama to leave a link to your ‘moment’ in the comments for all to find and see.
It’s no secret around here that I want another baby and Dax does not.
In fact, he strongly opposes the idea of adding another little one to our already chaotic lives.
But see that’s why I can so easily say I want another one. Because he is so adamantly against it.
If I’m honest with myself, while I do want another one, the fear of having another one far outweighs the joyous anticipation of actually having one.
This month I was late. The kind of late that would potentially increase our family size.
It was a roller coaster. First it was panic. And worry. Then it was denial. Then it was acceptance. And then it was hope mixed with love. And then it was all swept away with a stain of blood and my heart was flooded with disappointment.
Because I am human and broken and scared.
And that’s what makes me sad.
After Katie, I suffered. There was postpartum depression that had me fooled into thinking I was terribly overwhelmed and inept at being a mom. It morphed into a thyroid issue that sent all of my hormones raging out of control. The first three years after Katie were rough. The good days were rare. The bad days? Full of anxiety, panic attacks, fear.
There are no words that describe those years. And the worst part of all of it was the feeling so alone. I had a lot of encouragement around me. Lots of well meaning folks encouraging me to pray and trust in the Lord. If I would just pray more often, He’d take it all away, they promised. I was praying and I was trusting and I felt so lonely.
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
This was my hour of suffering with our Lord and yet it felt so terribly lonely. How could I possibly use Jesus’ own words and yet feel so desperately alone? Lack of faith? Lack of prayer? Lack of love?
It doesn’t work that way. God doesn’t forsake us. He NEVER forsakes us. Forsaken means to be abandoned and deserted. God is a loving Father. He doesn’t throw us to the wolves and wait to see how we manage. On the contrary, he begs us to lean on him, to allow Him to help us carry the cross. But He never offers to take the cross away. There is redemption and rejoicing in suffering and so He allows it. He humbles us with trials that force us to our knees. And I suffered. But I chose to do it Alone. I gave up on my God who had never once given up on me. At some point, I stopped taking my suffering to the foot of the cross and I decided He had forsaken me.
I had gotten the message wrong…those well-meaning people who offered me advice didn’t get it. Prayer wasn’t going to take my suffering away. Prayer was going to make my suffering bearable. It wasn’t my lack of prayer, or my lack of faith or His lack of love. It was my misunderstanding of how beautiful suffering can be.
And that’s why I hate that I felt relief today. I hate that before the acceptance came the worry and panic. Because where is my faith? Where is my trust? This isn’t a journey I’m meant to make alone…I have to share my burden with Him. I have to trust that there’s a plan for this that I can’t see. I’m His instrument. He never promised it would be easy. But it will be beautiful if I can just accept that suffering is an opportunity to grow in faith. An opportunity to be humbled and molded and shaped into His vision.
Suffering, whatever form it may take, may be done joyously.
And with suffering, always comes hope. And joy. And redemption. And we’re all pretty broken and in need of redemption.
So my prayer tonight? My old favorite by Reinhold Niebuhr…
God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Amen.
(This is the final part in my West Texas post. You can read part 1 here and part 2 here).
Some of those touristy things? Totally worth doing. The boys spent a morning horseback riding to see an old mine while Katie and I went into the ghost-town, Terlingua, and did some shopping at their trading post. One night we visited the Starlight Theatre with its live music and delicious food and, of course, we spent some time in the historic Terlingua Cemetery.
Riding off to see the mine
Katie was too young to horseback ride on the trail but she fell in love with the owner’s dogs inside the office
The Terlingua Trading Post
Ha, gotcha!
Starlight Theatre in Terlingua
The ladies at the stable were very kind and let Katie ride a horse around the arena
The McDonald Observatory was well worth a visit. It was incredibly educational and fascinating to see. We did the solar viewing and the star party (along with the twilight program that preceded the star party). The boys loved every moment especially looking through some huge telescopes at the star party.
The actual fort at Fort Davis is beautiful and worth a visit. We watched the introductory video and then walked around the fort. It’s set up with the mountains as its backdrop which made for pretty scenery. The boys loved the museum (especially William as there were quite a few weapons for him to actually see).
I forgot to mention earlier, but my kids love getting their National Parks passports stamped each time we visit a National Park. They were able to do that here. Unfortunately, we weren’t able to pick up many mementos in Fort Davis or the Davis Mountains as their AT & T wire was clipped and everything west of Menard (I think!) lost their phone connection so cash was king.
There are quite a few cute towns and nice restaurants once you hit Alpine and travel further north and then east. Personally, we loved the murals in Alpine and enjoyed lunch outdoors at the Reata (although not our finest pick with children). Fort Davis was charming with its main street and drug store. We drove through Fort Stockton and saw the famous 1-10 Silhouettes on our way to Sonora, where we camped at the X-Bar Ranch on our last night before heading home (we ate breakfast the last morning of our trip at a delicious Mexican restaurant called La Mexicana). By the time we reached the X-Bar Ranch and I was required to sign a liability release form (which actually felt like a death warrant as the form was a full page of all the dangerous things I MIGHT encounter while camping there including but not limited to rattlesnakes, poisonous spiders and insects, sharp, jagged rocks), I was about ready to kiss West Texas good-bye and rejoin the comfort and familiarity of the suburbs.
Oh! Somehow I almost left out the flora of West Texas. And that was actually one of my favorite parts. There were some incredibly unique plants (some that you will only see in the Chihuahuan Desert). The Barton Warnock Visitor Center was completely worth the visit thanks to their exhibits on the plants as well as their desert garden. I loved the idea that those plants we saw are probably some of the most hardy plants…they have to survive some serious conditions including drought and extreme heat.
That about wraps up what I learned about West Texas. As happy as I was to return to trees and towns close by, it really was an amazing trip and the kids had a blast. Not everything was what I expected, but really? Traveling with this gang makes any trip worth the drive and every adventure that much sweeter.
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(This is a continuation of what I learned in our travels to West Texas. You can read part 1 here.)
Wildlife abounds. Deer, javelinas, birds, butterflies, lizards. But nothing prepares you for coming around a bend and stopping two feet short of a rattlesnake sunning himself directly in the path of your four year old’s foot (don’t bother scrolling quickly…there is no picture of the rattlesnake…in my concern to get us all safely around the dangerous critter, I failed to snap a photo). Tread lightly. Humans are the minority here.
Mexican Jay
Deer prints
Western Scrub Jay in the Davis Mountains
Mule deer in the Davis Mountains
There is beauty here. Lots of lots of amazing, beautiful spots. Hidden off the beaten path. Just be prepared to travel many miles of cactus as far as the eye can see to find those amazing, beautiful spots (refer to my first point if you’ve forgotten about the many miles you will travel).
Santa Elena Canyon
The overlook at the Barton Warnock Visitor Center
The Window
On the Lost Mine Trail in the Chisos Mountains
A view of the Rio from Big Bend State Park
I really wish just one of the travel books had given this piece of advice: Pick a section of the park (west, east or central) and stick to it. Settle in that area and spend all your time there exploring that area. It’s just too much to try to do a little of this end and a little of this end. Take it from someone who made the mistake…we spent more time in the car traveling from one trail to the next than we did actually hiking trails. I’m not kidding.
When the national park tells you their campsites are full, don’t believe them. Camping at a national park doesn’t compare to camping at a Texas state park. I had no idea how spoiled I was from camping at state parks until this experience. You call a Texas state park and they know exactly who is in which spot and when they plan to leave. You call the national park and they don’t have a clue although they’re quick to say they’re full. We spent our first night at Stillwell Ranch which is just north of the entrance to Big Bend. Somewhat primitive camping with lots of cactus (I think I heard “Mom, there’s a cactus in my shoe every few minutes” that night), no water and no restrooms, but beautiful, dark skies and no neighbors to bother with our music plus campfires were allowed (which turned out to be a huge deal as the rest of our camping spots would turn out to be fire ban zones).
It takes a special person to settle the west. I’m still in search of a first hand account of an early settler to the area. I want to know what in the world possessed them to stop their horse and buggy and say, “Yes! This is it!” My guess is that maybe that far into the desert they were just too worn out to keep going and too worn out to turn back. Or, more likely, they were in love with the idea of their own land. I can imagine Native Americans out there (it helps that I just read Empire of the Summer Moon) but I have a hard time imagining myself leaving the comfort of civilization to settle an unknown territory. Of course, that’s what makes humankind so interesting…we are all so different and where I would be hesitant to give up the security of townsfolk and access to food and water, some folks would be willing to sacrifice it all for solitude and land.
I was impressed with the story of Sam Nail and his brother. Somehow they created a beautiful oasis smack dab in the middle of flat, cactus laden land. Literally an oasis. They settled, dug a well, planted fruit trees and a garden and built themselves a house made of adobe. And I can imagine waking up and seeing the mountains on the horizon and feeling like it was just the most beautiful spot until the summer sun hit 115 degrees and I remembered that the nearest town didn’t exist and there was no convenience store to run and get water from. You see what I mean? This is taking some serious stretching for my imagination to travel out here and say to myself, this is it! But some people did and there are still plenty of people out there.
I did strike up a conversation with the postman at Big Bend and I was interested to learn that he’s originally from Washington state. My face rarely hides my emotion and clearly he read what I was thinking as he responded, “I know, I know. I left behind those beautiful mountains and rivers and forests and came here. But here, almost every day of the year, I look out my window and see the sun shining and there’s nothing that lifts the spirit like sunshine. So I wouldn’t trade that beautiful scenery I left behind for all these sunny days.” (Just for the record, we visited in late October and every day was beautiful and sunny until we got to the Davis Mountains, then it was cold and sunny thanks to a cold front that blew in.)
The remains of Sam Nail’s house
The windmill that keeps the water flowing to support the oasis of fruit and nut trees on the old Sam Nail ranch
To be continued…
We recently took a trip out to West Texas and visited Big Bend and the Davis Mountains. It was vast and often barren (with the exception of loads of cacti) but it held a unique beauty that I have never seen before. I read every travel book and guide I could get my hands on before I went but there were things I only learned once I got there.
It’s big. I mean really, really big. In my mind, I was prepared for this. It was, after all, a ten hour drive for us and I had read the travel guides and I knew that Big Bend National Park itself is over 800,000 acres yet I still wasn’t prepared for the vastness of the entire area. After we passed through Del Rio, the towns became fewer and farther between. Then we hit the Big Bend area and I’m not sure what I was expecting but just entering the park was a bit of a reality check. We went in through the gate and literally drove miles to get to the first ranger station. Then it was another 45 minute drive to our campground. Miles and miles stretched before us as we made our way from one end of the park to the other. That meant it took a long time to go from one trail to the next. All on twisty, curvy roads. So if motion sickness is an issue, expect to feel it here. Around every beautiful bend. Down every magnificent hill.
But it wasn’t just the park, it was that entire part of the state. Miles and miles stretched before us as we went from one small town to the next. It seemed as if nothing but land stretched before us as we hoped we’d make it to the next gas station. Grocery stores? Not many. Walmart. Hardly. Cell service and wifi? Incredibly sporadic.
On the way to Big Bend, we stopped to camp one night at Kickapoo Cavern State Park and then we went to Seminole Canyon State Park for lunch. Near Seminole we caught our first glimpse of the Rio Grande. The river has clearly been appropriately named as we learned in exploring Big Bend. There was only one area that we saw in our exploring where the river seemed crossable (those goats you see are on the Mexican side of the river); the rest of it seemed to be a wide raging river separating us from Mexico.
Our first glimpse of the Rio Grande
The Mexican goats
Down by the Rio Grande which we accessed from the overgrown Rio Grande nature trail
Fishing in the Rio
That vastness though? It made me appreciate just how incredibly little we are in the great big scheme of things.
Hiking up the Lost Mine Trail in the Chisos Mountains
Mule deer in the Davis Mountains
The boys really were this tiny in all that darkness in the wild Kickapoo Cavern.
It also made me seriously think about how easy I have it living in the suburbs. Forgot bananas? Just run down to the store…no literally, I could run to my store. Out there? It was a good 45 minute drive to even get out of the park and then that grocery store wasn’t what I’d consider big or well-stocked (although there was a small convenience store located near Panther Junction in the center of the park). Food was expensive out there as was gas (and rightly so, it has to travel many miles to be delivered). The Cliff bars that I sometimes treat my kids to go for $2.98 at my local grocery store. Out there? $6.79 a box. A quick trip for a few bags of ice, some jugs of water and a few grocery items (including some much desired fresh fruit) came out to over $100.
No one – and I mean no one – is going to welcome you to the wild west. I mean that both literally and figuratively. I honestly imagined myself walking into our first camping reservation desk and someone saying to me, “Welcome to the Wild West.” (I think that daydream might even have included saloon doors and me twirling a revolver on my hip so keep that in mind and remember I might be a bit prejudiced in my disappointment.) It didn’t happen. I walked into the visitor center at the Big Bend National Park and I think the most I got was a nod. I walked into a restaurant that looked like an old saloon and again my imagination was less than fulfilled. No “Welcome to the Wild West” there, not even a “Welcome.” Those folks in the west, while kind, seem a bit wary of strangers. It felt like everywhere we went, we might just have been intruding on their privacy. Once we got past Alpine and up into the Davis Mountains, folks seemed a bit more friendly and engaging. Still no one welcomed me to the Wild West (or even to the West) but at least they didn’t seem wary of me and they were quick to engage in a conversation.
(I sat down to write this, thinking I only had a thing or two to say…turns out 10 days in West Texas made me think I have the right to say quite a bit about the area, so…)
To be continued…
I love All Souls Day.
Well the truth is, I love everything about All Hallows Tide. But of the entire celebration, All Souls Day is my favorite. I love that All Souls Day is the culmination of the entire feast with All Hallows Eve and All Saints Day preceding it. And for the record, I’m not a morbid, death obsessed soul either. 
A few years ago, I wrestled over my internal conflict of secular versus sacred celebration in a blog when it comes to Halloween and I gave a tid-bit of history on All Hallows Tide…
Halloween or All Hallows’ Eve is the night before All Saints Day (“Hallow” meaning “holy” or in this case, “saint”). As Meredith Gould points out in The Catholic Home, “Although Halloween has been secularized since the nineteenth century, Catholics have a long history of observing evening vigil before the Feast of All Saints.” All Hallows’ Eve marks the beginning of the triduum of All Hallows Tide, which is the time when the church remembers the dead…saints, martyrs, and all the faithfully departed. Many of the traditions (trick-or-treating, included!) stem from ancient traditions, some rooted in Christianity, some rooted in paganism. For an excellent read, refer to Mary Reed Newland’s The Year and Our Children or read an excerpt from her book by heading over to CatholicCulture.org. The issue isn’t so much that Christianity and Halloween are in opposition to one anther, the issue is more one of education and understanding what the focus of All Hallows Eve should be and then making that connection for our children.
As you can see from that blog post, we really like to celebrate all three days of the triduum. Then this year happened and our October was a busy month filled with extra-curricular commitments, our annual nature challenge and a family trip to Big Bend. All of those events kind of crowded out our usual pagan preparations.
We did visit the pumpkin patch but of all the pumpkins we brought home, only one of those pumpkins ended up getting carved. Our costumes were thrown together at the last minute and our normally huge pile of pagan Halloween books were mostly left unread.
For a moment when I woke up on October 31st, I was rather sad, thinking I had let the entire celebration pass us by.
I love All Hallows Tide because it’s a huge celebration of life. Yep, life. It’s often described as solemn as we are reminded of death and it’s been twisted into secular scariness with ghouls and skeletons and monsters, but that’s not what it’s about. I maintain the idea that it’s really about life. Because we remember and celebrate all of those who have passed before us…into new life.
See as a Christian, I can do that. I can celebrate death because it’s the beginning of a promise. The beginning of eternity. I reflected on the beautiful mystery of death awhile back and I am still in love with the idea that sometimes my prayer here on Earth is a powerful thing for a soul who has been caught in Purgatory.
As a Catholic we believe that when we die many of us will spend time in Purgatory. Purgatory is defined as a “purification, so as to achieve the holiness necessary to enter the joy of heaven,” which is experienced by those “who die in God’s grace and friendship, but still imperfectly purified” (CCC 1030). It notes that “this final purification of the elect . . . is entirely different from the punishment of the damned” (CCC 1031).
The idea of praying for the souls who haven’t made it to Heaven (because clearly those in Heaven do not need our humble prayers!) or haven’t been condemned to Hell (our prayers cannot save those that have been damned) comes from the 2nd Book of Maccabees 12:38-46.
Expiation for the Dead. Judas rallied his army and went to the city of Adullam. As the seventh day was approaching, they purified themselves according to custom and kept the sabbath there. On the following day, since the task had now become urgent, Judas and his companions went to gather up the bodies of the fallen and bury them with their kindred in their ancestral tombs. But under the tunic of each of the dead they found amulets sacred to the idols of Jamnia, which the law forbids the Jews to wear. So it was clear to all that this was why these men had fallen. They all therefore praised the ways of the Lord, the just judge who brings to light the things that are hidden. Turning to supplication, they prayed that the sinful deed might be fully blotted out. The noble Judas exhorted the people to keep themselves free from sin, for they had seen with their own eyes what had happened because of the sin of those who had fallen. He then took up a collection among all his soldiers, amounting to two thousand silver drachmas, which he sent to Jerusalem to provide for an expiatory sacrifice. In doing this he acted in a very excellent and noble way, inasmuch as he had the resurrection in mind; for if he were not expecting the fallen to rise again, it would have been superfluous and foolish to pray for the dead. But if he did this with a view to the splendid reward that awaits those who had gone to rest in godliness, it was a holy and pious thought. Thus he made atonement for the dead that they might be freed from this sin. (emphasis mine)
So there’s Judas with his army of soldiers and they go out to collect the dead who have fallen so they can bury them. And they realize that those soldiers who had died were wearing amulets taken from pagan temples. And so Judas asks his soldiers to pray for the souls of the dead and he takes up a collection for a sacrifice. And the statement is made, “for if he were not expecting the fallen to rise again, it would have been superfluous and foolish to pray for the dead.” And then it is said that Judas made atonement for the dead that they might be freed from this sin. “Freed from this sin”? But they’re dead…surely they’ve already been judged and are either on their way to Heaven or Hell. Unless, of course, there’s a third option.
Jesus himself refers to the idea that something beyond this life exists (aside from the obvious Heaven and Hell) when He says in Matthew 12:32, “And whoever speaks a word against the Son of Man will be forgiven; but whoever speaks against the holy Spirit will not be forgiven, either in this age or in the age to come.” (emphasis mine) “Either in this age or in the age to come?” If a man is seeking forgiveness, he wouldn’t be doing it in Heaven (as those who enter the gate must be purified) and clearly he wouldn’t be seeking forgiveness in Hell as he’s condemned for all eternity and he’s beyond saving. So where is “this age to come” that Jesus refers to? There must be a third option…some type of Purgatory. (If you’re still unconvinced about Purgatory, read this or this or this.)
So the question now becomes, how do the souls get released from Purgatory? As Catholics we are taught that the souls in Purgatory cannot pray for themselves. They rely on our prayers. Our prayers here on Earth have the power to expedite the time souls spend in Purgatory. If that’s true, that’s powerful. And if it’s not true, well then there’s no harm done if I spend every day of my life here on Earth praying for the souls of the deceased. I have faith, though. Faith that my prayers do help those souls. Faith that someday when I’m stewing in Purgatory, undergoing a major purification process, someone here will remember me and pray for my soul to be released. At least I hope someone remembers me.
And that is why I love All Souls Day. It’s a day to celebrate all the souls who are departed. To pray for them. To recall each and every one of our loved ones who have passed before us and to spend time in prayer for their souls. To attend Mass, the highest form of prayer, in remembrance of their souls. To visit the grave sites and to pray for so many of them by name. To believe that my prayer might just be what releases that precious soul into the beautiful, purified Heaven. I like that thought.
This year we celebrated All Hallows Eve with pagan traditions. We dressed up, trick-or-treated and even tested out the idea that a Halloween fairy exists (according to my kids she does…they left out most of their candy for the fairy and in return, the fairy visited and left them each one toy).
Then we celebrated All Saints Day with a Litany of the Saints and stories about some of our favorite saints. We basked in the glorious thought that we have an entire army of friends already in Heaven praying for our souls and our Heaven bound journeys. And as a part of our rich Catholic faith, we attend Mass on All Saints Day as it is considered a holy day of obligation…that’s how much importance the Church places on those folks who have made it to Heaven…we are “obligated” to attend Mass in their honor. (Personally, I love envisioning that entire army of saints in Heaven ready to pray on my behalf if I BUT ASK.)
And then All Souls Day arrived. We visited the cemetery and prayed for as many souls as we could. Then, inspired by our recent visit to Terlingua (a West Texas town that is big on celebrating All Hallows Tide as a Day of the Dead celebration), we embraced our close proximity to the Mexican and Latin American influence and celebrated the day with some Day of the Dead traditions…face painting, decorating skulls, and making an ofrenda (an altar). We made a “cemetery dessert” and ate empanadas for dinner. And all the while, we prayed. For the souls of the dearly departed…the saints, the sinners and those in-between.
Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them. May the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.
{this moment} – A Friday ritual. A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. If you’re inspired to do the same, visit Soulemama to leave a link to your ‘moment’ in the comments for all to find and see.
{this moment} – A Friday ritual. A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. If you’re inspired to do the same, visit Soulemama to leave a link to your ‘moment’ in the comments for all to find and see.
In my backyard…it was autumn, for a very brief moment. Now it is summer again and it seems weird to have pumpkins scattered about.
I am remembering…this sweet little girl…oh how she has grown!
I am grateful for...a quick visit with Mom. It was much too short, but a little is better than nothing.
I am watching…Outlander. I can’t resist. I read the book for book club this month and when my sister offered to lend us Season 1, I couldn’t say no. So far, aside from changing a few things and not quite casting according to my imagination, I’m enjoying the show. Dreading the final scene (because I’ve read the book and I know the content) but I’m in love with the Scottish Highlands.
I am listening…to Daxson say “I told you so.” I wonder if he ever gets tired of saying that.
I am laughing…at Andrew’s expression in this photo. I almost hit delete until I saw his face.
I am reflecting…on traditions. The topic has been stewing in my mind for a few weeks and deserves a post all of its own but it’s enough for now to say that the thoughts are there in my heart waiting to be sorted.
In the schoolroom…we had a beautiful opportunity at our Charlotte Mason co-op today to participate in releasing a new round of butterflies into the butterfly house.
Around the house…it’s just a huge mess of books. I’m trying to get organized for our 2nd term (which we actually already started) and between all of the interruptions of life, it’s taking me forever. I’ll just be happy if I get these books organized and put away before the 3rd term.
In the kitchen…banana, almond butter, cinnamon stew? I have no idea what in the world I just ate but it was lovingly made by Katie.
I am wearing…jeans and a Spanish style embroidered blouse. I actually have mascara on and I combed my hair. I look quite lovely.
We are preparing for…the end of the Nature Challenge. It really rushed by this year and we didn’t finish nearly what we had hoped to accomplish. Last week we visited Hilltop to “create our own” challenge with our friends. We did a sound walk and mapped the sounds we heard. It’s amazing what we heard when we actually stopped to listen. Then the kids used found objects (like leaves, grass and dirt) to map the path we followed.
Someday I am going to miss…the way Katie dramatically throws her arms around my legs when I’m leaving (even if it’s just to go get the mail) and while crying, screams out, “I love you so much Mommy!”
One of my favorite things…the pumpkin patch.
A peek into my day…
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With Every Intention 