|A January Snow|
We're bracing for old man winter's deposit as foretold by all with interests in groceries and shovels, but there was a decidedly ominous feel about the clouds today, and my NOAA radio keeps buzzing so we'll see what the morrow brings. One thing it brings for sure, is the second anniversary of Gigi's birth. She is most excited to be turning two and to finally reveal what is inside the pretty packages adorning our fireplace. I'm hopeful the weather won't keep our concelebrants at bay. While I'm hoping, I'll add that it would be great if the power stays on too.
|Letting the Good Times Roll on Mardi Gras|
This lent we're writing kind observations about each other in a family notebook, aiming to increase physical activity and decrease passive entertainment (ie screens), striving to arrive on Easter Sunday with a reinvigorated relationship with God. The news of Pope Benedict's abdication came as quite a shock but upon reflection is fitting of his humble shepherding. I admire him greatly and know the Holy Spirit continues to guide the Church through all stages and ages. I had a great affinity for JPII but Benedict spoke to me through his writing. The selection of a new Bishop of Rome always brings out demands for the church to 'get with the times' and the process is often colored with a political frame. Those terms do not apply. It's not as if the temporarily empty earthly chair has any bearing on who we are. The head of the Church is always Christ, no matter his vicar. As for those wishing for dogmatic change, it won't happen. If the key handed down for over 2000 years is altered it would no longer unlock the door.
Over the long weekend my sister and I brought our kids to Mom's house and began the process of sifting through 20 years of living to ready it for the market. Six kids, some faulty plumbing, and a horrendous season ending to Downton Abbey may have slowed us down, but we left pleased with our progress.
My late father had the habit of replying, "It'll cost you a quarter," for any requests from hugs to chats to hanging pictures. He also charged us a quarter each time we failed to turn out the lights before leaving a room. Mom treasures two quarters found in the pocket of the last pair of slacks he wore and thinks of him each time she encounters a quarter in an unusual locale. Dad continued paying us back all those quarters as we cleaned the house this weekend. I found one in a toy, one in a book, one in a vase, one on the couch, and one in a stack of rags. Never dimes or nickels or pennies, only quarters.
My dad used to write a poem to my mom, Dori, each Feast of St. Valentine and printed them in the paper. Something compelled me to write one in his stead this year. It's not newspaper worthy, but I can publish it here.
On Valentine’s morn I awoke with a start
Remnants of a dream that would not depart
Dad had hopped down from his cloud above
To share a sweet tale of everlasting love
My Doree is Adoreeble! My Doree is Adoreeble!
He danced and grinned his heart so full
A happy youth so quick and nimble
So full of grace it made me tremble
He seemed to have so much to say
But was in a hurry and could not stay
Why this message from on high?
I may have gleaned the reason why
Wally is missing a tradition of yore
Writing a poem to his sweet amore
Hiding it within the pages of news
A tribute of adoration to his muse
True, the prose was generally dorky
Will you be the wine for my corky?
Can you remember the fun we had?
You be the mom and I’ll be the dad
I hear you are building a new abode
I wish I could help unburden the load
When choosing the faucets, and fixtures, and halls
Just be sure to add a few walls
For then I assure I’ll be there as well
The Builder promises it through all that they tell
I remain in your heart forever you see
Until the day you’re up here with me
Happy Valentine’s Day from Heaven to my Dorkus
|Gigi signing her Valentines|
|Gathering the necessities for Mass|
|Happy Heart Day from my hearth to yours|