Isabel knew from an early age that comfort should be top criteria when selecting cute shoes.

This post isn’t about filling shoes, or big shoes to fill, or even my super-cute ultra comfy Keen maryjane’s that I searched high and low for and then found (on Amazon!) and now love.

No, it’s about blogs and blogging and what makes people seek out certain blogs. All of these thoughts have been swirling in my brain, brought on by a post from Jen Fulwiler about the lack of “Catholic mom blogs” in a recent Top 100 List, and then further pondered by Betty Duffy over at The Anchoress on why we Catholic women don’t make good mommy bloggers.

Unfortunately, I don’t really have too much more to offer — for me Betty had my favorite take-away point which was this:

Most Catholic married women expect to be mothers, so there’s no need to fetishize their choices or even to identify with them overmuch. They are mothers, who by and large enjoy being mothers and who make great investment in their children, but “Mommy” is not their persona.

Great food for thought.

But what I’m pondering is how I pretty much sealed my fate in the Not A Lifestyle Blogger category because in that precious little picture of my daughter trying to fill my oh-so-big shoes, I included a view of my toilet. Which as we all know, is pretty much a House Beautiful bloggy faux pas of epic proportion.

I’ll close with this image of tranquil beauty, in the meager hopes of reversing that trend. You want grace and dignity? I’ll show you grace and dignity.

When I was a young journalist fresh out of college, I had big plans for myself. I wanted a job at the local newspaper and my goal was to get as many front page stories as I could. I envisioned wearing classy suits and tracking down sources on the best stories.

When I started graduate school a few years later, I was a newlywed with only slightly-adjusted plans. I still wanted to do a lot of very important writing, but I knew that my flexibility would be affected by being married. I wasn’t in a position to move through the ranks, going from city to city as jobs arose.

I was fine with that decision, but felt in some ways that I had sealed my fate. By choosing marriage over a career, I reasoned, my writing would certainly suffer. All the great writers live in big towns so there goes that.

Add to that the big surprise of finding out, a few weeks before finishing my graduate classes, that baby number one was on the way. What were the odds of me actually writing a thesis? I would probably have to kiss my master’s degree goodbye.

But I didn’t. Somehow, a few months after having sweet baby Ethan, I started back with my efforts. I conducted my research, wrote my thesis and walked across the stage later that year, my husband and six-month-old son among my loved ones cheering me on.

Two years later, another son was born and I shelved everything. When son number four was born three years later, it felt like my diplomas were there to remind me of a life I had forever ago. My hopes for front page stories had been replaced by much loftier aspirations, the hopes and dreams of having these tiny humans learn to walk and talk and go pee-pee in the potty.

My life was overwhelmingly glamourous. I had traded in my swanky suits for a pair of linen maternity overalls — and my goodness I could not have been happier.

My ambitions of being a writer felt so far removed, mostly because I didn’t have time to miss them. I was ridiculously fulfilled, and yes also overwhelmed and tired, but mostly happy. I had no idea how much I would love the life of a homemaker.

But God is never done with us. And the reason we are wise to put our future in his hands is because he dreams big, much bigger than we ever could.

If it were up to me, I would have had fewer children. Because I doubted my ability to care for more than three. And if it were up to me, I would have thought that I had to choose — to pick either being a writer or being a mom.

God always knows best.

While I was busy living life, God opened doors for me. In the midst of being a wife and mother, here and there I got the chance to write. And lo and behold they weren’t mutually exclusive — and actually, in my life the two relied quite heavily on each other.

I found, in the midst of my life with all these boys, that writing about the ups and downs was therapeutic. Being a mom made me want to be a writer. Being a mother gave me something to write passionately about.

What I discovered, or perhaps what I remembered, is that God gives us gifts and he wants us to use them for his glory. When he gives us gifts, he will give us the chance to use them. We just need to work hard to always be in the center of his will.

“For I know well,” says Jeremiah 29:11, “the plans I have in mind for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare not for woe! plans to give you a future full of hope. When you call me, when you go to pray to me, I will listen to you.”

Do not be limited by your own imagination. Trust in God’s plan for you, in his love for you, in his perfect knowledge of what you are able to do through him.

[This originally ran in The Southern Cross.]

My boys, sometimes they need me to say things twice. Yes, yes we could launch into “well if you don’t give them the chance you will force them to do it the first time.”

You wouldn’t say that? You are so much nicer to me than I am to myself. Thanks for not helping me beat myself up anymore than I (sometimes) do.

So yes, there are times, here and there (!) where I am forced to repeat myself, to ask that thing again that I just asked. To remind that person that I asked that yes you, YOU MY SON, are the one I have asked to take out the recycling.

Tonight, I said to Isabel and Henry “it’s time to get in the bath!”

And then next thing I knew, there was this:

Thank you sweet girl. I love your quick obedience. It’s an inspiration to us all.

1. The dog pooped by the front door last night.

“You gotta come see this,” my husband hollered across the house. I was sitting at the dining room table finishing my wine and pasta. A few of the boys were finishing homework.

“No thanks?” I said between bites. Seriously. No thanks.

“Um, there’s worms in there.”

Chairs screeched across the floor as boys catapulted themselves away from the table to go get a look.

I opted not to follow.

2. A while later, after all the excitement had died down, I went to the computer to google “worms in dog poop” which comes up surprisingly fast. I only had to type “worms in…” and thankfully my choice was the dog option and not some of the other hideous afflictions.

“It sounds like,” I started to call to Paul, and before I could finish my sentence he was standing next to me, placing a ziploc baggie on the desk.

“This is what they look like,” he said.

“How in the heck did you get those things in there?” I was equal parts disgusted and impressed. Had he really done the unthinkable task of picking them out of the poop?

“They just started crawling away, so I captured them.”

3. So obviously, we’re off to the vet at some point.

4. Unfortunately, we have a previous commitment of waiting here at the house between the hours of 8 am and noon when the appliance repairman is coming to fix my washer.

5. Yes, it started punking out the other night when I set it to turbo-mega-hot wash cycle (my standard choice). Thankfully I discovered that the machine worked fine on Mere Mortal Status, so I’ve been able to keep the wash moving through, just not using the high high heat option I prefer.

6. So the dog has to wait. The men are on their way and as soon as they leave, we’ll head out with the dog. I sure hope I get my ducks in a row before anything else crazy comes up.

7. But in the end:

Can I get an Amen?

Go see Jen for more, less icky quick takes.

Our oldest son got his driver’s permit the other day, and just like you I’m wondering why they let six-year-old boys behind the wheel.

Wait, what? My son isn’t six? You mean he’s actually old enough to be doing this? That’s just not possible, because that would mean that I’m old enough to have a fifteen-year-old, which means I’m probably no longer 23.

How did that happen?

Life is funny that way. One minute you’re listening to the parents of teenagers marvel that their babies are old enough to drive and suddenly, you’re one of the marvel-ers. It’s like somebody put your life on turbo-speed and you go from trying to figure out how you’ll finagle grocery shopping with three toddler boys to cheering as those boys intercept a basketball and score a three-pointer, just like that.

The lesson, of course, is to learn to enjoy the moment. Life is filled with millions of them, sweet simple series’ of seconds that encompass our days, weeks, months. And so often we miss out on the wonder and beauty of just living life because we’re thinking about the future.

And then, bam. The future is here.

Grace is really the only answer to that pressing question: how? How do we enjoy the beauty of this moment, right here, without getting bogged down by worry or fear? Or even bogged down by responsibility? Because a good parent is one who is thinking about tomorrow, about caring for her children, about making sure that the choices we make today will help our children’s future.

It’s that great mystery of working like it depends on us, but praying like it depends on God.

When I start spending too much time thinking about things, that’s when I get in trouble. And yet, I have to think. I can’t blindly bumble through life with no plan. My husband and I need to talk about our goals and hopes and dreams for this family, or we might miss out on what we need to do right now.

But too much of that will overwhelm us. And it will give us a false sense of security — that if we plan everything just so, if we remember to dot and cross and underline as we should, that we are somehow guaranteeing things will go the way we plan.

The danger is that we start to look so hard at what is ahead, that we miss the right now.

The other day on the way to Mass, my son, with his newly-minted permit, was driving us on the early-morning roads. It was foggy, and we both noted, about the same time, that you could see perfectly clear — as long as you didn’t try to see too far ahead. The two of us could only stay focused on the road directly in front of us; looking way down the highway was futile and scary — we couldn’t see a thing.

As a driver, my son learned an important lesson that day — stay focused, look at what’s in your view. Don’t waste your energy trying to see a mile down the road. Be aware of where you are right now.

As his mother, I was reminded of the same. My job is to be present. My vocation is to care for what God has put here in front on me, right now in this season. And my goodness these seasons go fast. They are rapid and intense and taxing and overwhelmingly fun.

But only if I’m remembering to enjoy them.

I have to stay focused on what is within my vision, to really see what’s right there in front of me. Looking far off down the road doesn’t do me any good. It only robs me of my peace and joy, of the grace that God so generously wants to give.

This originally appeared in The Southern Cross.

we ask that everyone make a donation to Isabel’s future therapy bills.”

I’m thinking that will go on her two-year-old birthday invitations.

Henry, upon seeing this doll: Who did that?

Me: Charlie.

Henry: Why?

Me: I’m not really sure.

Him: He was trying to make her look awesome?

And then Ethan, a minute later:

Him: Wow.

Me: I know. We need to get that off…

Ethan: before Isabel sees it? But you gotta admit it’s pretty beast.

My husband deserves his own separate post, a public letter of gratitude for how wonderful he is.

I always get a little shy talking about Paul. I take the “she pondered these things in her heart” approach when it comes to this man I love so much. So don’t worry — this won’t be all drippy sweet. But I couldn’t skip over him in light of all the activities of last week, because I love him and he is worthy of my praise (um, I know. That’s actually a praise and worship song and now I’m getting carried away).

Ah shucks. I STINK at this.

Sorry baby. I just wanted to say thank you — thanks for your support and encouragement. For helping me push myself when I’m inclined to hunker down and just work on the laundry — which would be plenty! And noble and good. But you always help me think through what God is asking of me, and not just what is convenient for you. Because goodness knows it costs you something when I’m not here. And you manage it all beautifully.

Oh and thanks for the flowers. You are the best.

Home is where I want to be!

I was on the road all last week! Can you believe that? I can’t either. I was up in Boston filming The Gist! And then on the way home stopped off in Greenville to speak to a wonderful group of women for a morning of reflection. It was fun.

Last week was probably one of the most epic weeks of my life. That sounds over the top, but it’s true. I can’t even do a play-by-play, but what it involved, in my “Rachel’s List of Things on the Horizon” was plenty. The way I manage big things in my life is like a mental timeline. I’ll look out at the week (or day) ahead, and pinpoint the exact things that are causing me stress, anxiety, excitement or (as it often tends to be) some combination of the above. Last week was a constant with those.

Here’s what the week looked like, in my mind: pack kids. make schedule. spend time with kids. GET UP EARLY TO CATCH PLANE. land in Charlotte. land in Boston. TURN ON PHONE TO SEE HOW MOM’S SURGERY IS GOING. catch ride with Danielle. get to television station to start taping. HAIR. MAKE IT LESS BIG. start taping. stop taping. hotel. sleep. up. eat. MEET KIND WOMAN WHO WILL DO YOUR HAIR. film more of The Gist. change. film more of The Gist. dinner. sleep. ARRIVE AT STUDIO TO DO ON-AIR INTERVIEWS. finish up taping season one of The Gist. take taxi to airport hotel. GET UP EARLY TO CATCH PLANE OH MY GOSH IT SNOWED DURING THE NIGHT. get on plane. get de-iced. fly to Greenville. meet super cute gals at church. have dinner with them. GET UP EARLY TO SPEAK AT RETREAT. get on plane. GET HOME AND SEE YOUR MOM AFTER HER MAJOR BREAST-CANCER REMOVING SURGERY.

and we’re done.

(p.s. I don’t really think you read all of that paragraph but it’s so therapeutic for me to write it and lucky you you can skim over whatever seems boring and uneventful.)

Synopsis: last week was busy and good with so much going on. I am blessed beyond words to be a part of this television show, I love hanging with my wee little pals Danielle and Carolee and Kate because I won’t lie, they are fun and smart but also I love the way they all think I’m so TALL. Because, um, not always. I have a picture from my super tall 6’5″ brother’s wedding (the one where he married the 6’2″ girl) and compared to my sister and sisters-in-law and the other bridesmaids I look like someone plopped the mom from the Loving Family into the picture. So when I’m up there taping the show and they say things like “you’re so tall!” Well it’s just music to my vertically-challenged ears.

I got back Saturday night. My dad picked me up at the airport because there was basketball doncha know, and it was an exciting and important game. It was fun to see my dad waiting for me there, after being gone so long. We just started smiling and waving from about a mile away. My dad dropped me off at the gym and oh my goodness it was nice to see just how much my family missed me. Each boy gave me loooong hugs and told me (outloud!) how much they missed me, how glad they were to have me home. It felt good to hear those words. I know that’s the truth, but in this world of boys and young men, when they take the time to articulate those feelings, it does my heart good.

I had to scoot home during the game and I popped in on my mom. And she looked beautiful and is doing great and all the wound-up-tight feelings that would come and go during the week finally deflated. I made it through. My mom made it through. The traveling and the show and the talk and the being away from my family and my mom having a bilateral mastectomy — it all came and went. And yes, my mom still has some fighting to do and some challenges ahead. But seeing how well she is doing now just makes me so darn proud of her, and of my dad. They are rock stars.

And now I’m back. Here in my home. Tonight we were settling in after a basketball game and all of us were standing around in the kitchen getting post-game snacks and dinner, apple slices for Henry’s storytime with daddy. And I said to Paul, “does it feel different having me home.” And his smile and sigh spoke volumes. I noticed the boys lingering close to me, telling me stories, playing songs for me on the guitar. It was perfection.

I wish I always felt acutely aware of the goodness in my life, the way it feels on these days, when you are home from being away and it all feels fresh and new.

But either way, I’m enjoying it right now.

Unrelated, this picture of Isabel at tonight’s game:

for some reason reminds me of this:

name that movie

Just a quick note to let you know that I will be speaking at the Women’s Day of Reflection in Greenville, NC this Saturday, January 21.

The gathering will be from 8 a.m. to noon at St. Peter’s Catholic Church. There will be a talk by me, followed by some time of reflection and discussion, maybe some Q and A but no line dancing. I promise.

Also, I’ll have copies of my book How Do You Tuck In A Superhero? and if you buy one I’ll be happy to sign it!

If you have any questions, contact Josie at jsharz at gmail dot com

apropos nothing, except he’s super cute