Soup anyone?

We are doing a few things for lent this year. One thing we are doing is having soup for every evening meal. I thoroughly enjoy cooking and eating (!), so it is hard to give that up. The idea of having soup each night is that it is easy to make and a simple meal.

Mike is giving up vanilla lattes (even though we acquired a very nice Starbuck's latte maker from family!). I am spending a certain amount of time each day cleaning (one of my weaknesses). We are keeping the temperature lower in the house (truly a constant reminder! )We are going to mass as a family once during the week and saying a rosary. Lent truly is so amazing since it is seemingly so hard for me to give up certain things, but in doing that I am reminded of how much we HAVE!!! I am in want of NOTHING in this life. I should be the happiest person in the world every single second of my existence with all the blessings we have.

A continual absence, a continual presence

This is a picture of the Fauster on Ash Wednesday last year, lent this year has been very different so far.



On Ash Wednesday, I simply could not get last year's Ash Wednesday off of my mind. Last year Mike, Faustina and I went to mass at the Cathedral with Mom, Dad, and Travis. Mom's illness hung very heavy on all of our hearts and I remember having many tears throughout the mass. Afterwards, we all went back to my parent's place and ate the delicious but simple lentil soup my Mom had made. At the table Mom held Faustina in a cute yellow dress. Travis was telling us about his lenten sacrifices (if you think I am extreme, I am nothing next to my dear brother!) and we had a conversation about the seven deadly sins. During all of lent last year my Mom often told me how she truly felt in the desert. She said she didn't know how this journey was going to end for her, and although it was good because she trusted the Lord was near, it was extremely difficult and she felt alone.

I went out to the cemetery a few days ago and trod out to where my Mom is. There is a messy path that goes out to the site. I was trying to be careful as I walked out there since I was wearing Keen's (basically glorified sandals, real smart), and finally just started plowing through the snow not caring. As I was walking out to the site, I thought about how she would tell me how she felt alone 'in the desert' last lent and I thought how I felt alone at that moment (missing her) at the cemetery. As I looked around the cemetery, it had a 'desert' like feel to it for me. I ended up saying a prayer and writing a message in the snow to Mom.

This lent so far, for whatever reason, I have had a heightened awareness of the Lord being near. Even the smallest decisions I make I find myself stopping and thinking, "It does matter what I do right now and what I think. What would the Lord have me do? Even though no one else knows, it does matter." Perhaps that sounds ridiculous or overly pious, but I believe that type of thinking reflects how I have come to think of my Mom's absence the past 5 months. Obviously, my Mom was human and God is God. But as my Mom has been gone - I MISS her! And I often think about what she taught me over the years, she taught me what is important, she modeled how to serve others, she modeled how to love well, how to laugh, how to listen etc and I want to do those things. As I feel her absence, I also feel her presence while I try to enact truth she taught me. And I have a heightened awareness of the Lord in that same way thus far this lent. I am thankful for that awareness and I know it is a blessing, and I may not always have that.

Young wrath

A few months ago I blogged about my Mom's journal that we found. In her perfect handwriting she wrote about everything good, innocent, and how she loved the Lord.

Well, I came across an old journal of mine from when I was 12 years old and it is pretty much the most extreme opposite a person can imagine. Despite its somewhat disturbing content, Mike and I were able to laugh and then shake our heads saying, "What in the WORLD!?!" I would probably be sent to counseling these days.

You can see the several 'hates' in the picture. I was very upset with my parents (actually, I remember it well) when I was in 6th grade because they wouldn't let me hang out with a group of friends at school and do everything they were doing (like going to movies, malls, etc...with boys and girls). In this journal entry I do the following: call them them dorks, idiots, wish they would fall off the empire state building, and wish that bears would eat them. !$%^&@ Then I go on to say that they want me to have no a social life, live with them forever until I am 101 years old and shrivel up and die.

Whoa! You can't say I wasn't creative or passionate. Bet you never envisioned that side of me - I am so sweet, right? :) They say what goes around, comes around. I better look out when our kids hit their teens....My poor parents, how did they every put up with me?

This is too funny!

I could not resist posting this video. Hilarious and, sadly for the progressivists, true.

Mary Frances' Mullet...

... is here to STAY!

You can read about the debate here.

Our lumberjack with a purse

Three's company

Aidric Axvig is again with us. He turned 1 year January 21st; he is a handsome little guy and very easy going. I took care of Aidric, Ella and Isaac last spring. We miss both Isaac, who is now in montissori school, and Ella, who was Faustina's only female companion. This fall with the loss of my Mother and Jude's birth, we needed some time to regroup so we didn't have anyone with us. Although life will never be the same without Mom, it does march on. Aidric is back and before we know it the weather will be nice out again. The other day I took all three of these little ones to a friend's house and I felt like the clown car where I kept bringing kids out of the van! :)

Generous 'Teeta'

Faustina has taken to calling herself 'Teeta' these days. So, Teeta she is. Mike and I have both notices over the past several weeks that Faustina seems to have a streak of generosity running through her. She adores her younger brother Jude constantly showering him with 'gifts' whether it be his nuk, putting toys in his exersaucer, showing him books, or trying to give him food - she aims to please. She is constantly giving Mike and I things from around the house (whether we want them or not!). "Here, Dadda. Here, Mama. This is Dadda's." And since I have been taking care of Aidric again, she is quite excited to share with him. Mike had her at a coffee shop yesterday morning and observed her trying to play with a little girl who was 2 years old and giving her all sorts of different toys. Whether it is the fact that Faustina is a girl, the oldest, or naturally a care-taker, she is very willing to share and share alike.

You say goodbye, I say hello

Sunday evening, Jude and I hopped in the van and took off for Madison. My friend Meg's father died and we were going to his funeral in Milwaukee.

It turned into a very eventful 24 hours as I had a kind of 'retreat' in the car since I had many hours of driving, I attended a funeral celebrating Gary Hoffman's life here on earth that has ended, and I was able to be in Madison to help out my brother and his wife for the birth of their daughter Ruby Gail. Being able to see Ruby Gail was an unexpected blessing and there is no doubt in my mind that the Lord orchestrated it in just that way!



We arrived in Madison around 9pm and went to bed fairly quickly. Aaron noted that they would have a February baby since the baby probably wasn't going to come in the next few hours (it was due January 27th). Jude was screaming his head off so I didn't fall asleep until midnight. Very soon I woke up to a big thud and thought that Faustina had fallen out of bed until I realized I was at Aaron's place. Well, actually, Leo had fallen out of bed (he sleeps in a big kid bed and never had done that before); at the same time, Amy's water happened to break! Aaron came down and asked me to take care of Leo in the morning while they were at the hospital.

I did take care of Leo and he was very cute. He was thrilled that his baby sister was on the way and couldn't stop jumping up and down. I got him off to daycare and made my drive to Milwaukee. I said a rosary for Amy thinking she probably was in labor and my rosary ended right when I arrived at the Church at 10:07am. It turns out that Ruby was born at 10:01, right when the funeral started. It was good to see Meg and be at the funeral.

On the way home, I had the radio on and the Beatle's song "You Say Goodbye, I Say Hello". Again, the cycle of life struck me as at the same time I was celebrating both a birth and also mourning Gary Hoffman's death at the early age of 65. It was one of those moments when the Lord was very close and there was an abundant amount of grace to just 'BE'with the Lord and be wrapped in his joy and his peace. I was listening to Christian talks on CD and one thing a man said was pagan see life as "Birth, life, death", Christians see reality as "Life, death, rebirth". It is true, as Christians, death is the beginning of new life - and that is exciting. That is something to celebrate.

I was able to visit Aaron, Amy, and little Ruby in the hospital and spend about an hour with them eating and enjoying my new little niece. She was 8 lbs 6 oz, 19 1/2 inches long. Ruby was my own Grandma Lee's name (my father's Mom). She really is a cutie and we can't wait to see her grow and her personality unfold.

Philomena

Does everyone know about this saint but me? How had I not learned about her earlier?! The last two days I had a lot of driving time and I listened to the story of Saint Philomena; I am completely enthralled with her. Her story is truly amazing.

In 1801, a new tomb was found in the catacombs in Rome, Italy. It turns out these relics belonged to Saint Philomena. At the same time, a Church in southern Italy had become 'weak in virtue', so the priest asked Rome if he could bring relics of a saint to his Church for encouragement and revival. Rome sent the relics of this unknown saint to southern Italy. As soon as Philomena arrived in this town, miracle upon miracle began happening, mainly consisting of healing. Word got out and over the course of the next 30 years countless miracles took place; in 1837, Pope Gregory XVI canonized her upon the healing of Pauline Jerrico whom he himself witnessed being healed; she was so sick that he said she was a 'living corpse'.

Soon after Philomena was canonized - keep in mind the fact that no details are known about this saint when she is canonized - three individuals in various places in Italy are visited by Saint Philomena and she tells her story to them. All three stories agree in detail.

Saint Philomena was the daughter of Roman royalty. Her parents were pagan and often made sacrifices to idols; the mother was unable to have children. One of their servants told them about Jesus and converted them to Christianity. Soon after the queen concieved a child. The queen said since Christianity gave her light (lumina), she would name her daughter Philomena which means 'daughter of light'.

Philomena went everywhere with her parents. During a trip to Greece, the Emperor Diocletian immediately fell in love with Philomena and wanted to marry her. At the age of 13, Philomena refused because she had consecrated her body to her husband, Jesus Christ. Diocletian was so enraged that he went on to torture her for 40 days. He tied her up and flogged her until her entire body bled. Diocletian said if she wouldn't marry him, this was a fit punishment to be tortured like her husband Jesus was tortured. This, however, did not kill her. He then tied an anchor around her neck and flung her into the river. Angels, however, rescued her and delivered her to the crowd that had gathered to watch her die. Diocletian was convinced she was using magic. So he next had archers shoot arrows at her to kill her. Again, God directed all the arrows around her so that she was never harmed. Diocletian was so mad that he had the archers put the arrows in the hot fire and then shoot them at Philomena. This time, the arrows turned around and shot the archers themselves and killed them! The archers who were not killed converted to Christianity. Finally, Diocletian had Philomena's head cut off on the 40th day of torture.

This young woman was only 13 years old! Her courage and strength is stunning and there is a great deal of devotion to this saint. I told Mike the other night that I think we may have a middle name if we are fortunate enough to have any more girls. :)