Trudging

Yesterday, I understood.

I felt intensely the effort of being.

I understood the beauty/pain/exhaustion, the "it's all to much"ness dancing upon the string of losses/changes/transitions we've weathered these last weeks/months/years.

I lost not the will to live, but rather a will to move forward, to propel myself headlong into the coming day, put on my big girl panties, pull myself up by the bootstraps, or any other inspirational colloquialism.

I suppose it's all very un-American of me, to settle in to self-pity for the day, staring of into space, waiting for someone to tell me what to do next.  Where does this pile of folded laundry go?  Where do I put this form to fill out but we can't open our safe because the keys are missing?  How do I NOT think every snarky thing posted on social media is directed toward me?  How do I do the things?

Sometime it is just too much.  

And those are the days when you cry to your momma, call a friend, watch a string of <insert guilty pleasure show> episodes on Netflix, use those rosary beads, and go to bed at 8:00.

I thought perhaps my first post in almost a year should be effervescent, funny, full of pics and snazzerific Danielleisms. Well, those are there too, simmering in the background.  For now, this is the real deal. Not to be accused of inauthenticity, and prompted by my desire for connection, I decided now's as good a time as any to start 'er up again.

I'm so thankful for Christ, Our Lady, the saints, and all holy people who help shed light upon the way, assuring us that in a world striving to be unique and one-of-a-kind, we are not alone in our heavy-heartedness.  

Like my boy St. Ignatius of Loyola:

O Christ Jesus,
when all is darkness
and we feel our weakness and helplessness,
give us the sense of Your presence,
Your love, and Your strength.
Help us to have perfect trust
in Your protecting love
and strengthening power,
so that nothing may frighten or worry us,
for, living close to You,
we shall see Your hand,
Your purpose, Your will through all things.

And this:

"Have patience with all things, but chiefly have patience with yourself. Do not lose courage in considering your own imperfections but instantly set about remedying them -- every day begin the task anew."

Saint Francis de Sales

What do YOU do when you're having a storm on the sea of Galilee sort of day?
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P.S.  Now that we actually have a home, are getting settled, and not moving cross-country, the blog sputters back to life.  Please subscribe/comment/engage, so that we can have a hearty back-and-forth!

Earth to Danielle

Well, I cannot believe it.  

Can you believe this??  

It has been almost a year since my last post.

I was a doubter whom, with each passing day, thought I'd thrown in the towel.  Then the towel became a pile, which became a mound, a hill, a cliff, a mountain, now I'm a hotelier.

 Ever the choleric sanguine, I decided to come back to the blog after a crazy day of running about from soccer to a lovely Baptism, vigil Mass, YMCA, musical, and the day's not over.  Oh, did I mention Kev's in New Orleans at a Walker Percy conference?  Yeah, this seems like a good time to start again.  :)

WOOHAA!  It's good to be back.

This past year has brought with it innumerable joys, heavy sorrow, new soulfriends, and waning connections, beautiful community, phases of loneliness, sickness, health, homesickness and basking in our new life in CA.  Loving our new jobs, feeling stressed, owning it, wallowing in it, loving something fierce and screaming aloud to the crashing ocean at midnight.  CA to IN to CA to IN to CA to MA to ME to IN to CA. From public school to homeschool, self-hatred to self-onthewaytolove, extroversion to introversion and back again. Articles, concerts, Masses, papers, late nights, midnight singalongs, concerns, surprises, phone calls, serendipitous graces and sock-you-stomach torment, two steps forward, one step back, one step forward, ten back.  

Grace and strength when it seemed impossible.  

So generous a wellspring of joy a beauty, it hurts.

But, I don't have to unpack it all tonight, right?  I'm just going to say hello, wrap myself in a cozy blanket, look out over the mountains and remember: It is good that we are here.

Come Away With Me: Jaffa Gate and The Cenacle

Reflections from our first trip into the city:

What a day, what a day!

I feel energized and totally wiped all at the same time.

There's something about navigating a foreign city that makes me feel "together."  Though my zany outrageous personality might lead one to believe I'm a bit spacy about navigation, be not fooled.  I like to know exactly where I'm going and exactly how I'm going to get there.  Outside of that, I can be spontaneous.

We embarked late this morning on our first journey out of Tantur.  Tantur is the arabic work for hilltop, and as you can guess, it sits atop a huge hilltop, providing gorgeous views of both Jerusalem and Bethlehem.

Just as Tantur itself sits between two different world, so I feel I do.  Now I'm not going to even feign knowledge of the intricate political realities that are deep-running in this ancient land.   I know absurdly little considering we have chosen to live here.  In acknowledging this lack of knowledge, and quite possibly sounding trite, the division is a painful reality.

As we arrived at the bottom of the [very] steep hill, there was an accident clean-up taking place.  Of course Jacob was astounded by the whole situation, and kept remarking on how they should be doing things, and laughed when they drove the tow truck away with the front bumper dragging on the ground.

After a few minutes of waiting, bus 124 pulled up, which would take us right to the Old City.  There are Arab buses and Israeli buses, and this particular one is Arab.  (This segregated bus system is just one of the sad realities of the cultural division).  Basically, it's kind of a cross between a minivan and a bus---the size of a mini van with a bench in the back and 3-4 rows of double seats aside a TEENY aisle.  Being both a large woman and a bit claustrophobic, it is quite uncomfortable to try to squeeze between the tiny middle row with backpack and children in tow.

We are certainly an oddity among the normal bus folk of women going to market and men going to work.

We are white.

              We are American.

                               We are large.

                                             Jacob is chatty and Ceci is flirty.

 I'm sure we provide much fodder for  dinner conversations.  :)

After a 20-25 minute bus ride, we got off at Jaffa gate, one of the many entrances to the Old City.

  It is called such because it used to be the heart of the city until they began expanding beyond the walls in the mid-19th century.  There is a huge stone wall surrounding the Old City which is remiscent of a castle.  People stream, push, run, scoot past us as we saunter a bit slower than the general crowd.

We have arrived.

Kevin has Ceci in the Beco carrier on the front, with a full backpack on his back.  I have a full backpack on my back and Jacob shuffles between the two of us.  We move as quickly as we can, though Jacob's dawdling tendencies become complicated on ancient stone streets with narrow passageways.

Walking through the bustling Old City evokes memories of my time in India---crowded, colorful, stimulating, fragrant (for good and for bad),with many people selling their wares and curious about the strange visitors.



The streets in the Old City are narrow, stone, ancient, well-worn.  One often feels that walking about is like a game of Hopper, navigating around corners praying that a compact car or scooter isn't zooming around the corner.  All in all, we did quite well, only having to stop a few times to remind Jacob that lollygagging and silly walking weren't a good idea in such a bustling place.

After a short walk, we made our way to the Cenacle.

 For those of you who are wondering, this is the place traditionally attributed to the Last Supper, and it was one of the sites I most looked forward to visiting.

You see, I have this thing about the Eucharist. 

When I present the Cenacle work to the children in Catechesis of the Good Shepherd, I almost always start crying, talking through my tears as if they're not pouring down my face because---in giving of His very Body and Blood, we have life within us.  Forever.

In some ways, I have been nervous about visiting these places, these places about which I've heard my ENTIRE LIFE.  One of my earliest memories is of going to the atrium as a child and learning about the places Jesus walked.

Would it be anti-climactic?

Would I be disappointed?

There was certainly a bittersweetness walking into the Cenacle.  It's a room.  Just a room.

But that's just it----it's a real room, where I believe a real person sat.  And offered His real self, His Body and Blood for me. 

It is a simple room, stone with beautiful stained glass and the gorgeous sun filtering through.

Jacob was super excited to see the Cenacle, walked in looked around and said,

"Okay, let's go to the next thing."

Classic 5 year old.

So Kev generously took the kiddos out to the courtyard area and left me to wander a bit.

...and I began to take pictures.  I started in one area of the room and just shot and shot and shot---different settings, diferent angles. 

 And all of a sudden I realized.

I was alone.

There was not one. single. person. 

No one but me.  

In the Cenacle. 

It was as if God blessed me with this moment, 

this annointed moment in a place where hundreds of thousands of people visit and hundreds of thousands more wish to.

Just little ole me in the Upper Room.

A Body given, Blood shed, and the gift of eternal life.

 




**For those who so desire to see the insane amount of pics I have taken thus far, you can go to:

http://picasaweb.google.com/danielamuse/TheOldCityPartIJaffaGateTheCenacleAndKingDavidSTomb?authkey=Gv1sRgCIqwwJbb0JvhSQ#


and for pics from before we left:

http://picasaweb.google.com/danielamuse/BeforeOurDeparture?authkey=Gv1sRgCLTU7Naks9nNHQ#

Keepin' On

It's amazing to me, we humans and our adaptive natures.  Already we are eeking out a rhythm to our day, a comforting routine that proves to me once again the colloquial sentiment that home is where the heart is.

Sure, it's hoky but, like many things that end up on a Hallmark card, they are true in spite of the cheese.  I find that, with my husband and children, I bring home with me.  Sure, I miss my friends and family, but with and our family's shared experiences,  we bring you all along too!

We had another middle-of-the-night party, with Kevin and I reading my silly magazines and Jacob doing a puzzle (thanks, Auntie Kathleen).  Ceci seems to be weathering the time change better than the rest of us, with only a night waking or two.

Although we went back to bed at 4 am, we actually woke up before noon, giving us about 5-6 hours of sleep.  Ceci slept in until 9:30/10, which means the rest of us did too.  After some more unpacking and such, we prepared for lunch at the dining room.

Finding we were  30 min. early, we set out to find the washing machines and do some much-needed laundry.

On the way, we met a few members of the cleaning staff who were gentle, welcoming and enamored with the children---Jacob coyly hiding behind my legs and then bursting out with, "I'm five," or "I like adventures, " and Ceci huddled on Kev's chest in the carrier, batting her eyes and flashing that soul-melting smile.  Thank you, Noha, Judy, Fatin and Juliette for your hospitality and pleasure at our presence. 

The washing machines were quite new but all in German (???).  After much guessing and drawing on our limited knowledge of German (Kev for his proficiency and me for singing art songs :),  we started the loads.  They take 2.5 hours to wash and about that long to dry, so it's kind of a several hours' process.  It's amazing the things we take for granted!

Speaking of things we takes for granted:

What I miss (aside from the obvious family, friends, my own bed):
Washing Machine 2 steps from the bathroom
Cloth diapering (I know, it sounds ridiculous)
Antless floors---the little guys are ubiquitous over here
Netflix Watch It Now
Flushing toilet paper (the kind used here has polymers and thus has to be trashed. YUCK).
Non-dusty floors

Things I'm loving
Waking up to tons of sunshine and workman noises outside our window
Laid-back pace
Oodles of family time as we settle in before Kev starts a work schedule
No t.v.
Fresh, healthy food prepared by wonderful cooks
The natural beauty
Reading
Puzzles with Jacob
Little Rojet (sp?), the 6 y/o Palestinian boy who is the son of a staff member.  Jacob met him tonight and, although neither speaks the other's language, they know how to speak play.  Seeing them tossing the tennis ball back and forth in the echoing hallway, squealing and popping out at eachother around corners put my heart all aflutter.
Family workout time.  Dance video.  'Nuff said.

We have yet to make it into the city, but hope to tomorrow we can go to the Old City to explore a bit and hopefully find a memory card before Shabbat starts and Jerusalem closes down. 

I'm just itching to get my pics up, but have to resort to taking photos with our computer.

Tomorrow I'll probably take some Flip videos of the grounds so you can see more!

Layla tov!

A New Year

Every year it's the same thing:

Me:  I just can't believe it's been a whole year since last year and two years since the year before!  What happened to the time??  I didn't walk 10 miles a day and go local/organic/raw. I didn't learn Elvish and sew 5 quilts a month and write every warranted thank-you note and start a blog (oh wait---check!) and perfect my meal planning.

Life:  You crack me up.

You see, I am a closet perfectionist.

Source:  http://www.cartoonstock.com

Come to my house most days, and there are toys scattered about, a mound of laundry on the couch waiting to be folded, last night's bottle of wine uncorked with a thimble-full left on the bottom, and a boy-christened toilet begging to be washed.

A perfectionist?  ummm.....seemingly not so much.

But Flo H., Carmen's Mama (woot woot shout out!!), was the only person on this earth who cut through the crap to see me---a hyper perfectionist.  Crazy, right?

Unless I can Gap-fold all the clothes, line them up
by type and color in the drawer, 

I don't want to do it.

Unless I can take everything off the counters,

scrub the stove and oven, 

clean the cracks around the sink with q-tips,

I don't want to do it.

Same thing with lifestyle changes.  If I have to cut out carbs, I want to eat as little food as possible without passing out.  With working out, I want to push so hard I throw up.

Or I don't want to do it.

 A different manifestation of this perfectionism rears it's head if I receive criticism (however charitable or uncharitble it may be).    Criticism coming from a total stranger typically doesn't bother me or ticks me off just enough to sass back.  

If it comes from those close to me? 

Oy, my tender heart doesn't do well, even if the criticism may be well-founded.

As my MIL pointed out, it's ALL OR NOTHING.

This coming year, instead of fighting my innate personality, I will continue to accept my desire for perfection.  And when that stubborn streak hits, tempting me to shirk my to-dos because I don't have the time for OCD  order?  I will politely tell it to buzz off, fold the laundry in a jiff and let Jacob put his own clothes away, even if they get unfolded in the process.

And I will repeat Carmen's own wise words:

"Close enough is good enough."

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 On the flipside, my perfectionism does come in handy.

Some of things things I've "perfected" this year.  

The art of:

Falling in love with my babies....the smell of them, the feel of their little lips on mine, the swift "You're okay"s after a fall, the hyper cheerleader for met goals, little and big.   The middle-of-the-night-tripping-over-toys-rescue for a quick nurse and cuddle, the belly laughs and mutual awe, the letting go so they can grow...  Love...

The spontaneous gathering.  Be it a summer night's hookah session or a midday tea, I'm all over the last-minute call for the troops.  We stumble out, arms overflowing with the accoutrements for a good visit:  libations, sustenance and a ready laugh.

Source: angiesrecipes.blogspot.com

 A mean Chicken Cordon Bleu. My tips:

To flatten the chicken, I enclose the breast between two large sheets of Press N' Seal to keep the nasty e-coli splatter to a minimum. 

 Be generous with the wine--maybe take a few swigs 
if you fly like that ;)

Use kitchen twine instead of toothpicks---they hold the chicken together better and are easier to remove.  

Check it:

http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Chicken-Cordon-Bleu-II/Detail.aspx 

Source: http://sweetpeascloth.com

Cloth Diaper Care
Researching before purchasing is kind of my thing.  I've been known to compare product reviews for months before purchasing something as simple as a raincoat (hmm...that perfectionism creeping in).  SO, when we decided to cloth diaper, if was after just such a time investment.  We bought Fuzzi Bunz and have a now have a nice routine with all the supporting  of Charlie's Soap, Oxiclean Free, Biokleen, Imse Vimse liners, and many others.  

If you are at all considering cloth diapering, USE ME as a resource!!

The Surprise Party.  From baby showers to Kev's 30th birthday, I'm all over the whole process, from the big picture to the nitty gritty details, I LOVE a good surprise.

The morning nap.  There is nothing like a day when the hubby is home or Jacob's at school, Ceci is down and I can crawl into the cool sheets and cozy down comforter.  Nighttime sleep is often hit or miss, but morning nap sleep is golden.  The morning light filters through a small slit in the curtains and down, down, down to sleep I fall. 

 A good cry.  There's no relief from stress like a heaving, snot running, snorting, body contorting cry.  Sometimes it's hormones, sometimes it's a strained friendship, sometimes it's just pure exhaustion.  Grab a box of kleenex, bust out the fetal position and let the river flow.  You'll feel better---I promise!

And now, fighting all my tendencies toward a superfluous post editing to include all of this past year's lessons, I will bid adieu.

May your year be blessed with imperfect perfection.

Oh the Sensitivity

Sometimes it can really suck being sensitive.  Add that on top of a hormone party almost 2 years in the making, and you've got yourself one crazy mama.

In regard to the former, I've tried to change it.  I've tried to be tough---and regarding some things, I have certainly build up a good shell, all shellacked up with a hearty protective coating, letting things just roll right off.

In many ways, however, I'm still like 5 year old Danielle whose feelings were hurt because Martin didn't want to play house any more, or because Erica invited Elizabeth over to play, but not me.  Or the dozens and dozens of times in my life when I was not included, or someone criticized a bit too harshly, or boys wouldn't dance with me at the middle school dances, or I didn't get a certain part in a play.....and the list goes on and on. 

A mullet, butch AND perm?  Oy.

                                    

To be fair, I was a bit of a target.

 Seriously, I remember getting heart twangs of anxiety when groups of people were gathered around laughing and carrying on because I was CONVINCED they were laughing at me.

It is quite an interesting thing, this conundrum of humanity.  In our self-centeredness we are convinced that everything is about us.  A lack of invitation (to play, dine, etc.) could never be due to something as sensible as lack of space or desire for intimate gathering, but must just MUST represent an utter rejection of us.  A solo or role unearned could certainly not be due to someone else's voice/acting fitting the song/role better, but HAD to be the complete failure and lack of talent on our part.

These examples are completely ridiculous and do not AT ALL reflect anything that has gone through my mind.  No, no, not ever......  ;)

I'm 29 years old,  so it really knocks me to my knees when I get those heart palpitations of self-conscious sensitivity.

At the same time, it is this very sensitivity that allows me a deep emotional awareness of other people, an ability to empathize and a desire to be as inclusive as possible.  (Admittedly ad nauseam sometimes for that last one).

The Missionaries of Charity, Mother Teresa's order,  pray a beautiful Litany of Humility which has been an enormous boon for me at times when I am suffocated by my need to be consulted, loved, included and regarded.   I hope it be a help to you also.

   
 Mama T, pray for us!!

O Jesus! meek and humble of heart, Hear me.
From the desire of being esteemed,
Deliver me, Jesus.
From the desire of being loved...
From the desire of being extolled ...
From the desire of being honored ...
From the desire of being praised ...
From the desire of being preferred to others...
From the desire of being consulted ...
From the desire of being approved ...
From the fear of being humiliated ...
From the fear of being despised...
From the fear of suffering rebukes ...
From the fear of being calumniated ...
From the fear of being forgotten ...
From the fear of being ridiculed ...
From the fear of being wronged ...
From the fear of being suspected ...

That others may be loved more than I,
Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be esteemed more than I ...
That, in the opinion of the world,
others may increase and I may decrease ...
That others may be chosen and I set aside ...
That others may be praised and I unnoticed ...
That others may be preferred to me in everything...
That others may become holier than I, provided that I may become as holy as I should… 

Rafael Cardinal Merry del Val (1865-1930)
Secretary of State for Pope Saint Pius X

And So It Begins....

Here goes my timid effort to make a mark in the fishbowl world of blogging. I love visiting blogs, finding kinship with other people who similar interest, or with people who make me laugh, make me angry, challenge me or just make me feel grateful to be alive.

It has been said that when Virginia Woolfe read Proust she stopped writing for quite a time. In my human self-criticism, as soon as I read someone even remotely engaging I think,
"What do I have that I could ever offer the world, to make it more beautiful." Well, perhaps I may not offer anything new, but at least I can help to shine light on things beautiful.

And with this, cherished ones, I leave you with an image of beauty for the day...



Church of the Holy Sepulchre, Jerusalem
Taken on Kevin's journey this summer