Bobby bought a refrigerator to go in our pantry. It isn’t here yet, but last week I made the decision to paint our pantry before it arrives. I moved its contents into our dining room and kitchen. Then, I went away for the weekend. Bobby and I attended a convention in Hyannis, which was very nice.
This week I prepped, painted the ceiling, trim, and walls, and returned about 75% of the items back into the pantry. I moved the remaining 25% into the basement. I worked fairly quickly because I wanted to clean the house and prepare for Rachel’s birthday party on Saturday. I needed to skip some of my usual activities on Wednesday and Thursday, including working out and preparing healthy meals, but… mission accomplished!
While I worked, I listened to some talks on Theology of the Body and world religions. These were educational. I also listened to some YouTube videos about decluttering, and one video, by Fr. Columba Jordan, that has stuck in my mind because of the question he asked: Are you replacing contact with content? What a catchy little phrase!
Since today is the beginning of Holy Week, I am going to try to make this week a quiet one. I’m planning to declutter and deep clean my kitchen. I am also going to try to remain open and attentive to the Presence of God. Maybe I can keep away from the TV and my iPhone, talk less, listen more, and just be in the moment.
I might journal. I hope to slow down a bit… to remove the distractions… I’m going to start now with a Taize Holy Hour at our parish Church. Peace.
Maybe this is my new thing… blogging while walking on the treadmill. For many years, I blogged while nursing babies. Back then, I was typing on a keyboard, now I am talking into the microphone on my iphone. What do I have to say?
Before Lent begins, I often pray and think about what I could do to grow closer to God in the six weeks before Easter. This year was completely different. Ash Wednesday kind of sneaked up on me. I think it was on Mardi Gras, (which I didn’t celebrate this year) that I got an email from Ascension about the Crux series. I read a little bit about it and Bam! That was what I was doing. I even paid the $4.99 for 90 days of using premium access on the Ascension app, which already seems worth it to me.
The theme is surrendering your life totally to God. This is something I desire greatly, and can use all the help I can get in practicing it daily.
In my own words, the plan is to read the Gospel of St. Mark, and to do a daily Examen, which St. Ignatius of Loyola is known for. The app gives you prompts to help with that. And then there are two physical components. These are daily fasting and daily exercise. These are personal. Maybe something that is a bit of a stretch, but doable with God’s help. There are also daily video reflections by Fr. Columba Jordan, CFR. I am adding in decluttering 15 minutes a day, which has nothing to do with the Crux program.
The Belly Fat Boot Camp Challenge is winding down. On Monday morning, I will take my final measurements and my “after” photos. I feel like it was a success. This is the third challenge I’ve done. The first was in January 2024, my husband and I did one together in May 2025, and this one began in January 2026. I wonder if this challenge was easier for me because it was my third one, or because the exercises were not as demanding as in the other two. I’d prefer to think that my mindset has improved. I used to think doing the workouts and eating the healthy foods was so difficult that I couldn’t continue with it for very long after the challenge ended. Now, with a little increase in caloric intake, I think it’s totally sustainable. I don’t know if it’s because I’m not homeschooling anymore and I have more time, or if I just want it now. Maybe… I actually want to be healthy now that I’m 56 years old. I believe God wants me to take care of my body as well as my soul. I don’t think he wants me to be a slave to a sugar addiction (or any addiction). He came to set the captives free.
I’m in a preparation mode. I’m getting ready for the next season of my life. I don’t know what that is yet, but I think it will be revealed to me when the time comes. In the meantime, I’m trusting Him, and I’m walking on this super old treadmill. And I’m using my voice to express the hope I feel.
Oops! The number of books I am currently reading, according to my Goodreads app, is 16. I just keep starting new books and not finishing the old ones. Today, I am determined to write a blog post. I have many ideas swirling around in my mind. Now that I’m writing, I can see two main ideas that I would like to talk about. One is “helplessness” and the other is “minimalism or spiritual poverty and faith”.
The first comes from a book I’ve been reading, with a group of Catholic women, called A Retreat with Saint Therese. According to Goodreads, I started reading this book 9 months ago. That’s probably right. A woman in my neighborhood likely started this group in April of last year. We met twice a month, took a very long break in the summer and fall, and started meeting again in January.
The second comes from two books. UnclutteredFaith by Joshua Becker and Happy Are You Poor by Fr. Thomas Dubay. I read the latter many years ago and I just started reading the Becker book last night. It’s clear to me now that I’m not ready to talk about those quite yet. 
So helplessness it is! You probably already know a lot about this famous saint, but if not, here is a quick and oversimplified explanation to give some context. Saint Therese talks about wanting to find a very direct little way to heaven, instead of taking the steep staircase, which she believes she is too little to climb. She tries to find a lift to carry her up to Jesus. She realizes that the lift is the arms of Jesus. Here is a paragraph from the book regarding this:
Enlightened by the Holy Ghost, Therese perfectly understood these words of Wisdom. “To be wholly little,” that is to say, to know and love our helplessness, and for that reason “to go to Him,” that is to Infinite Love; this is how we enter the lift. And then He carries us up; He does it, not we ourselves. All we have to do is not to interfere, to yield ourselves to His upward movement. He lifts us up above ourselves, above our wretchedness and our shortcomings, and, little by little, will free us from our ourselves, from our egoism! That is His work, His essential work. He will do this divine work if, while desiring its realization in us, we rely in no way on ourselves, but rather, fearlessly, unhesitatingly and unreservedly on Him, on His gratuitous and all-powerful Love. The desire to love, humility, confidence; that is all.
(Page 41)
I included the whole paragraph because the whole thing is great, but the part that has stuck in my mind for a month is: “to know and love our helplessness.” This was a new idea to me. Not knowing my helplessness. I’m grateful that I often know it. And intellectually, I understand, and have experienced, surrendering, (usually out of desperation) and relying unreservedly on Him. I have often been humbled and realized I need to stop interfering and let Him do his work. The new idea for me was to love my helplessness. Have I ever done that? I don’t think so. How am I going to be “wholly little”? This has been in the back of my mind.
I wondered if I ever wanted to be little. Was there a time when I wanted to be helpless? Do I even want to become like a little child? Did I love being a child when I was a child? I think I was usually rather serious. But I could be silly too.
I remember that day when I was playing with my sister in the finished basement of our home, and my mom called us upstairs. My brother was there and my mom sat us down on the couch. She told us that she and my dad were getting a divorce. I think I started crying. It gets a little blurry. I remember my mother giving me paper grocery bags and me filling one with my shoes and one with my stuffed animals. And I think she told me I needed clothes. We were trying to get out of the house before my dad got home and we were going to stay with my grandparents. I remember feeling like an observer that day. Watching my grandmother bring my mother a drink. Sitting on my grandparents’ couch as they discussed something… I don’t remember feeling anything. I was nine, my brother was eight, and my sister was four.
That was in the spring. In the fall, I went to a new school. I wrote about the divorce in the assigned essay about what I did that summer. I wrote about how it was the best thing for everybody. How my parents were not happy together and now they would be happy. Looking back now, it’s clear that I wanted people to think I was fine.
I continued with this strategy. I was calm, cool and collected. My mother said I handled disappointment well. My grandmother said I wasn’t moody, I always had the same disposition. I was proud that my hands didn’t shake and I didn’t have panic attacks. I was proud of my good grades. I thought of myself as strong. I acted like I didn’t care what people thought of me. I became a helper, a problem solver, a good listener. I became a people pleaser. I don’t think I wanted to be helpless or needy or dependent. As an adult, I never wanted to go back to my childhood.
So here I am now at 56 years old. I’ve learned some truths over the years. I’m aware that I’ve believed a lot of lies. I think the more time I spend in the Presence of the Blessed Sacrament, the more real I become. I am able to know my helplessness and my dependence, and also my loveableness. Today, while I was praying, I felt completely seen inside and out. It was as if I dropped everything I would have hidden behind in the past. And I kind of liked it. It gave me hope that I could one day love my helplessness. Maybe I would like to be little.
Amazingly, the Magnificat Meditation of the Day (2/10/26) seemed to fit my situation this morning.
Discouragement… springs from self-love and is a rebellion against our littleness and poverty. We do more harm to ourselves by yielding to discouragement over our imperfections, than by falling through weakness, because we deprive ourselves of the means of getting back up again. Discouragement shows too how defective is our trust in God. God comes to our help in proportion to our confidence and littleness, measuring his gifts by our trust. The Lord needs nothing but our humility and confidence to work his miracles and marvels. Such childlike trust makes us more apt for the working of his consuming and transforming love.
God does not intend his mercy to stop with us as individuals, however. We are to offer to others the pardon we ourselves have received. Confronting our own sinfulness is liberating, enabling us to put away the mask of untruthfulness and to be fully ourselves before God and those around us. It also means that we are not scandalized by the weakness of others, knowing that we share in it in a mysterious way through our common humanity…
(Sister Mary David Totah, O.S.B.)
I see this as encouragement to desire greater humility and confidence in God. I’ll admit I’ve been desiring to love my helplessness ever since I read that line. And I’ll end with another encouraging passage from the book:
This is what she says: “I have always longed to become a saint, but, alas, I have always found that when I compare myself to them, there is the same difference that we see in nature between the mountain peak lost in the clouds, and the tiny grain of sand trodden under the feet of the passers-by. Far from being discouraged, I say to myself: God would never put unrealizable desires into our hearts…” Let us pause here for a moment. The saint’s reasoning is admirable. God, the Holy Ghost, never inspires the soul with desires that cannot be gratified. He only awakens desires in order to satisfy them, and more completely than we can imagine or ask for.
A selfie I sent to my daughter, Hannah, on June 13, 2025, to show her I tried on her Role Model Diva sweatshirt. She told me I should get one so we could match. (I felt happy that she wanted to match me.)
June 13, 2025 was the last day of my homeschooling journey. It ended quietly. And then summer began with traveling, and included our traditional summer activities. It went by fast. And then it was the first day of school, but not for me. (It turned out not to be for two of my daughters either. A water main break gave us five more days of summer.) Nevertheless, I felt a sadness, and wondered why.
I don’t have a desire to homeschool anymore, and I’m looking forward to having time to “catch-up” on some of the things I put on the back burner while I was busy homeschooling. I read a few articles on retiring, and found one about life after homeschooling. And then I wrote in my journal.
Lord, I know this is a process. I’m going to feel all sorts of feelings. Please be with me through it. Guide me. Hold me. Show me the way. A friend of mine said, “Cut yourself some slack.” I am listening, Lord.
I acknowledge that what I did was a big accomplishment. Only those who have done it really know. And you know, Lord. It took Grace, and I thank you for supplying it. You gave me grace to persevere. I may have some regrets. Things I’m not proud of. Impatience, anger, anxiety… But there was good too. Patience, love, compassion, hard work…
It has helped me grow closer to you, which is best of all, I think.I learned so much. Why am I sad? What is the loss? Second chances.
I can’t have a do-over. I can’t get the time back. I can’t relive the good past memories. It’s the end of an era. I can’t get those babies and little kids back. I can’t have younger me back.
I used to love to scrapbook, to host Bible studies in my home, to study nature, to make reading nooks. I was a teacher, a tutor, a coach… I researched educational philosophies, traveled with little ones, participated in co-ops… I was an educator, a planner, an organizer, a writer, a blogger, a catechist… I wanted to do such a good job.
I kept trying. I didn’t give up. I tried to do what was best for each child. I tried to pay attention, to learn more, to do it right, to find the best way, to make a difference. I had so much hope each year, each morning, each day. I loved them SO much. I wanted them to love learning, to love our home, to experience things, to love you, Lord. To know you, to trust you. To have a true education. Sometimes I wonder if I did enough.
Maybe I wasn’t a good model, a good example, and I wasn’t holy. But I did the best I could at the time, and life continues. I am still their mother. We are still here. Only the “school” part is changing. I can continue to educate myself. To grow in faith, hope, love, and other virtues. To grow closer to you and hopefully do your will. To listen to your leading me.
So maybe I was a little melancholy the day I wrote this. I can get that way sometimes. Maybe it’s all part of the process of letting go. Maybe this is why people have retirement parties. To celebrate, and have some kind of closure. And when people graduate from high school or college, we say, “Congratulations! You did it!” Maybe this post is part of my closure. (And so is unloading homeschool curriculum, which I’ve been doing for a month now, and I’m almost finished.) This post is my celebration.
Yay! You did it! Congratulations! Oh, the places you’ll go!
I’m home again! Blogging on my hammock in the backyard. I will likely be home until mid-October. New York City with the six teenagers was fun. (I’ll show some pictures without people in them to protect their privacy.)
On Wednesday night we ate at the Carnegie Diner. I think we watched the new episode of The Summer I Turned Pretty when we got back to the apartment.
The next morning, I wrote my previous blog post and we didn’t go out until the afternoon. (They slept-in and takes a while for seven people to get ready with one bathroom.) We went to Brandy Melville and edikted, which were clothing stores I didn’t know existed. Then we went to two thrift shops, one that was crazy expensive and another, called The Reshop, which was decent. I think everyone was tired by that point, so we returned to the apartment and we had takeout for dinner. (V & T’s… our favorite nearby Italian restaurant.) One of Hannah‘s friends wanted to work out, which was cool because it also got me to work out. I hadn’t thought of it and didn’t bring workout clothes. The girls sang some karaoke songs, we went to Times Square, and ate gelato. When we got back to the apartment, I stayed up late in my bedroom while they stayed up late in the living room.
On our final day, Friday, I worked out again with Hannah‘s friend, and nobody was ready to go anywhere until it was time for us to bring two girls to Grand Central Station. On the way back, Hannah and I bought a couple of rolls of toilet paper because we ran out. 🤣 I took a long time eating and packing and cleaning the apartment before we left at 5 o’clock. And it was a long ride home. I’d do it again though. I forgot how fun it was to be a teenager. When I look back, I usually forget about sleepovers and going out with friends, and singing and dancing and giggling. I usually remember the angst, and the mistakes. What’s up with that?
Yesterday, I spent time with my other kids, my mother, and then my father and his partner Cheryl. And now I’m resting. I’m trying to do not much of anything. When I was journaling earlier, I wrote: too busy to pray = TOO BUSY. As you probably know, the reoccurring theme of this blog is “slowing down.” So that’s what I’m doing today. I’m remembering my priorities. I’ll do some weekly planning, making sure to plan to do “first things first.” And if there’s not a lot of white space in my planner around the “first things” and the “have-to’s”, then I’ll lower my expectations about what I can accomplish this week.
Here’s a meditation that I have always liked:
It’s not about getting loads of things done, it’s about doing the things that I believe God wants me to do. And how would I know what those things are, if I’m too busy to listen?
Monday-Saturday was all about getting things done. Check. Check. Check. But it wasn’t the satisfying feeling of calmly, methodically, working through a to do list. It might have looked that way on the outside, but inside it felt more like the “putting out fires” and “running around like a chicken with its head cut off” kind of accomplishing tasks.
And now it’s Sunday, a day of rest. A time to breathe deeply. To inhale and exhale. To journal and to sit still. A time to think: Hey, I want to do this more often.
“There’s one word that identifies people that are living a good life and that is ORDER. An orderly life.”
Fr. John Hardon
Hmm. I think I’ll try some of that.
On Sundays, I do “weekly planning”. This week I’m planning to wake up at 6:00 a.m. each day, and to go to bed at 10:00 p.m. A consistent bedtime and rising time would be orderly. When I get up at 6 o’clock, it gives me time to complete my morning routine, which includes journaling, and sitting still, and breathing, among other useful pursuits.
I’m planning to work on my index card activities before moving onto projects or recreation, because what is written on those cards are my priorities. They are spiritual practices, self-care endeavors, and tasks related to my vocation. I will try to leave some white space on my calendar, or margin, as some people call it; so I don’t feel anxious or rushed.
This morning, I watched a documentary about Saint Ignatius Loyola and I wrote down this quote:
“The well ordered life is centered around the worship of God.”
This is really the way to not feel anxious or rushed. To pray and be led. To be aware of the presence of God and to put all my trust in Him, rather than relying on myself. Pushing myself to get things done drains my energy, whereas resting in Him gives me life and peace.
On November 2, 1969, I was born. Fifty-five years later, I am grateful for my life. My hair, my teeth, and my skin are definitely showing signs of aging; but along with those visible changes have come the invisible ones. I have experienced so much. I’ve learned a lot through the joy and pain of living and loving and being human. I thank God for the peace I have today. I pray that I may remain teachable and grateful as new lessons come my way.
I will track this habit by making eight dots at the bottom of each day in my planner/bullet journal. When I drink 8 ounces of water I’ll change a dot to an X. My goal will be to drink at least 64 ounces of water a day.
Phew! I’m happy to be writing again, and I feel hopeful that I can once again focus on habits, routines, and resolutions. I have been very scattered since I posted at the beginning of May. It was a very busy two months, and by looking back at my iPhone photos, I can recall some of what I was doing.
There was Mother’s Day, my father-in-law was in the hospital, and I watched many tennis matches. There was Mary’s birthday, a Memorial Day picnic, Rachel’s art show and prom, her class night and graduation. Then there were weeks of creating a slideshow of Rachel’s life from birth to graduation. (I did it for the older three children, so I had to continue this tradition.) We also prepared the house and the food for the big graduation party, and then there was Father’s Day.
Next, there was the unexpected water in my basement. When I went downstairs to gather up some homeschool books to sell online, (my first step in decluttering and organizing the basement) I found water all over certain sections of the basement and shooting out of our tankless water heater! On a happier note, I spent a weekend in New York City with my father and Bob. This was my father’s Christmas present. We saw A Beautiful Noise, which is a musical about Neil Diamond, and spent a wonderful night at a Yankees game, among other things. Then last week, I spent a couple of days with my mother, as she needed help with another surgery. This time it was on her left wrist. Yesterday, we watched Clueless and played a lot of games for Sarah‘s birthday. This brings me to today. Two eye doctor appointments, two dentist appointments, and Hannah had her braces put back on after having them off for a month.
Seeing it all in writing makes me feel better. These are my excuses for not sticking with my morning routines and bedtime routines, and for not doing my strength training and eating healthy.
Today is a new month, and a new day. I find that there is a snowball effect that happens when I get too busy to pray and meditate. I might get anxious and make poor choices. I stop taking care of myself physically. I let routines slide. Habits go out the window. I think the same is true when I focus on first things first. I gain clarity. And the snowball starts rolling down the hill. I make rest a priority. I might start drinking more water, and I’ll go back to my routines. The snowball will get larger and start picking up speed. I’ll be feeling good enough to work out and eat healthy.
Today I took some time to relax. I read the book, Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. I loved this book when I first read it. I must have been under nine years old because I remember the house I was living in while I was reading it. It was still enjoyable reading it as an adult. I also took some time to write in my paper journal, and now I’m writing here. I’m not feeling as scattered.
Rest and recollection slows my mind down. It helps me remember my priorities. I love visual metaphors. I’ve heard one described something like this. Imagine you’re in a pond and you’re moving around a lot. The water looks kind of murky and you can’t see through to the bottom. Then imagine you stop moving and stay still. After some time, the water is calm and it gets clearer, and then you can see better. And so it is with me.
I told you about the YouTube challenge I’ve been participating in that includes strength training and a specific meal plan. Well, it ended on March 28th. I will be submitting before and after pictures, which I don’t think I’ll share here, and I need to make a video that answers the question: how have I transformed? To help me collect my thoughts, I’m going to answer that question here.
First of all, I’d like to say that changes have been made, but I see this as just the beginning. I will continue to take care of my body, by God’s grace, one day at a time. I may have seen more dramatic results if I had pushed myself to increase the weights more quickly, but I was afraid of injuring myself. I increased the weights very gradually, and will continue to do so. Slow and steady is how I roll.
Let’s start with the most obvious change. I’ve changed physically. I’ve lost 10.4 pounds. I’ve lost 3 inches on my waist, 2 inches on my chest, and 2 1/2 inches on my hips. My clothes fit better, I feel stronger, I’m more flexible and have better mobility, and my posture has improved. This is a big one for me. I’ve had six babies, though I had 11 pregnancies, which takes a toll on your body I think. I nursed for about 14 years. I was usually hunched over and my abdominal muscles were very weak because I rarely exercised. Standing up straight took a great deal of effort, but not anymore… I also think I’m probably healthier on the inside, although I don’t have evidence of this.
When I saw the before pictures side by side with the after pictures, I felt sorry for the old me. She didn’t think she looked that bad. She was kind of in denial about the rut she was in. Yeah, I could rationalize that I was smaller than “most people” my age. And I could make myself look thin by the outfits I would wear. But I was hiding a secret that only God knew. I didn’t think I was important enough to make the time and effort to take care of myself physically. I didn’t think I was worth it. I was stuck in the cycle of using food for pleasure, or comfort, or to avoid feelings. I didn’t have the confidence that I could stop the cycle and I wasn’t respecting myself.
I did not want to look at any of this until recently. I’ve been praying throughout this whole challenge that I may do the work, and that the results are up to God. I’ve literally been praying to finish a set and thanking him when I finish it. And it’s been working! So, this challenge has increased my faith and my hope and my gratitude. This really has been an amazing Lent. I’ve seen again what God can do when I ask for help.
Mt. Alvernia Retreat Center, Wappinger’s Falls, NY
In November 2023, I attended a Spiritual Exercises weekend silent retreat for women at the location shown above. Over the past 14 years, I’ve attended many of these retreats preached by the priests of Miles Christi, according to the methods and principles of Saint Ignatius of Loyola.
During the retreats, I make resolutions. In past years, I’ve thought of these as things I would like to do that I think will improve my spiritual life. I would do some of them, but would often forget about them as time passed. I would review them monthly as recommended for the first few months, and then stop as I got busy with life.
Lately, I’ve been thinking I should be taking these resolutions much more seriously. These are not just goals I thought might be nice to achieve. This is guidance I have received as the result of prayer. This is for my own benefit. This is a gift from the God who loves me.
This year I’m trying something new. In January, I reread my retreat notes. I always take a ton of notes. I love taking notes. I write down what the priest says. I write what I think, what I pray, what I “hear.” The conversations in my head are there in black Pilot G-2 05 ink. While I reread my notes, I took notes of the things that I thought were most important and that I could do. (Only with God’s grace.) Then I organized my notes onto index cards. I read these cards every morning. I have to say this is really helping me to keep focused. When I look at the card I ask myself, “Is this something that I will do today?” Most of the time I say yes, because many of the resolutions I want to do daily. Others, like Adoration for example, I might say, “I’ll do that Wednesday.”
On the back of each index card, I’ve written some retreat notes that went along with the resolution. For example, on the back of my Be grateful – don’t complain card is written:
Of course, I’m not doing all of my resolutions perfectly, and all the time. But these cards have certainly helped me maintain my focus, and to notice which ones I am doing regularly, and which ones I’m not doing, which leads me to ask, “Why? What is getting in the way?”
Recently, I’ve been listening to some of Fr. John Hardon’s talks on the Spiritual Exercises. He says that decisions are made with the mind and resolutions are made with the will. I think that this is an interesting distinction. How often do I know with my mind what I think is the right thing to do, yet I do nothing about it? I take no action. The steps of the discernment of spirits are becoming aware, understanding, and taking action. If I discern something to be an inspiration received during meditation, should I be ignoring it or putting it off until some later time? I think of what Mary said at the Wedding at Cana. “Do whatever he tells you.”
In An Introduction to the Devout Life, Saint Francis de Sales says, “… you must not rest, satisfied with general desires and aspirations, but rather turn them into special resolutions for your individual correction and amendment.” And he says later, “Above all, Philothea, you must be careful to retain the resolutions to which you have come through meditation, on your return to active duties. Without this chief fruit of meditation, it becomes not only useless, but positively hurtful, for our mind is to rest, satisfied with the consideration instead of the practice of virtues…”
I don’t know how long this will last. Will I stop reading my cards in the morning? Will I get distracted by a crisis or some trivial pleasure? I don’t know, but just for today, I am putting first things first and I’m feeling very happy.
Unruffled Peace 