Charlie called me from school yesterday. His tooth hurt, really bad. I felt a wave of guilt/nausea/panic because a) it’s been a while since Charlie has been to the dentist (I know! I know! I feel terrible about it hence the guilt) and b) our life is so crazy right now that squeezing in an emergency dental visit, this week, would be almost out-of-the-question hence the nausea and c) I would have to make it work, hence the panic.

So I talked to my boy for a few minutes before realizing that the hurting tooth was actually a loose molar, whew, and the problem was that it was ready to come out. So give it time, I told him, and it won’t take long for the pain to subside.

That night, Charlie just couldn’t go to bed with that loose tooth. He set himself to wiggling, really focused on the task at hand and after about 30 minutes, the tooth came out.

Blood was everywhere and my boy could not have been happier.

“That feels so much better,” he said, as we looked at the large molar, it’s roots freshly extracted.

“Do you want to put it under your pillow for the Tooth Fairy” I asked, handing the tooth back to Charlie.

“How bout I put it under your pillow,” he suggested, “and you just give me the cash?”

I had the honor of working on a really wonderful Lenten booklet this season — I got to be the hands and feet of our good friend Fr. Tim McKeown who is over in Rome serving at North American College. Together we worked with five other writers to compile 40 reflections (one for each day of Lent! ta-dah!), which we had printed in booklet form. The booklet is geared for college students, but the daily essays were so good I asked if we could share them with a larger audience and Fr. Tim gave me permission to post them online. I decided to post them over at Faith and Family Live, with a link-up here.

Here is Fr. Tim’s introduction:

Lent is a very special season for us as Catholics. Our churches will be filled on Ash Wednesday as we come receive our ashes and begin our forty day journey, imitating Jesus’ forty days in the desert. Perhaps some will spend the week before thinking of their resolutions. Perhaps some will think of their resolutions while at Mass.

I think we can make two mistakes regarding Lent. One is that we are so enthused that we set goals that are much too difficult, we fail to keep them and then we stop them altogether. The other danger is that we make no commitments for Lent and fail to see it for what it really is, a launch window for grace! The Holy Spirit wants to work in your soul these next forty days!

To help with your perspective think of Lent as a marathon. In a marathon you have to pace yourself to finish. If you sprint out from the finish line you will be too exhausted to finish. You have to find your right pace. Sometimes this may take several miles of adjustment until you settle into that pace.

Whatever your commitments are this Lent I hope one of them centers on prayer. That is the goal of this book. In it you will find a meditation for each day of your Lenten journey. I envision this as a devotional for our college students but I think peoples of all ages will find it helpful. I asked six people who have had experience sharing the Gospel with young people to help write the meditations. I know they all live out the message they are sharing.

Please use this booklet as a companion on your 40 day journey. Be open to what the Holy Spirit wants to do in your heart this holy season. May we all pray for each other and grow in likeness to Jesus Our Lord!

-Fr. Tim McKeown

Here is the list of writers, just so you know a bit more about who you’re reading. I hope you enjoy and may Jesus bless this growing time immensely.

About the Authors

Helen Almeter the Director of Campus Ministry for the Diocese of Savannah and Campus Minister to the Savannah colleges. She loves being Catholic and enjoys spending time with family and friends.

Rachel Balducci is a wife and mother of five boys and one girl. She lives in Augusta and writes a weekly column for The Southern Cross.

Fr. Brett Brannen is pastor of St. Matthew Catholic Church in Statesboro, GA. He is also chaplain for the Ga. Southern University Catholic students. He has been a priest for 20 years.

Katie DiFato is from Rockville, MD and is in her second year as a FOCUS missionary at Georgia Southern.

Mark Joseph is a 4th year College Missionary for FOCUS (Fellowship of Catholic University students). He is originally from Illinois and loves to travel overseas on mission trips.

Fr. Tim McKeown is a priest for the Diocese of Savannah currently serving as Vice Rector for Seminary Life at the North American College in Rome, Italy.

Keri Ninness is a wife and mother of a 19 month old baby girl. She lives in Smyrna, GA, just outside of Atlanta and is a social worker.

Click on over to Faith and Family for Ash Wednesday’s reflection.

We have a weekly morning ritual that involves me getting a tea and Henry getting an apple pie at the closest Golden Arches. We do this on the day Henry doesn’t go to preschool and it’s a sweet little moment that generally involves the tea, the pie, a sausage burrito (all eaten in the car) and then heading over to the carwash across the street. At the drive-thru, when we pull up to order, Henry always asks if he can sit in the front, “to say hi to the lady.”

I let him, and he enjoys this little opportunity to smile and say hi, first to the person collecting the money (dear reader Colleen, I have been meaning to say THANK YOU for the oh-so-generous gift card you gave me! You are so thoughtful and it was such a delight to have a month’s worth of tea’s at McDonald’s on YOU. You sweet thing.). So first to the lady collecting the money and then to the lady giving us our food.

This morning, as we pulled to the second window, Henry was sitting in the passenger seat so excited to greet the worker.

“Good morning,” she said with a smile. “How are you?”

“We’re good,” I said.

“How are YOU,” Henry asked.

“Love you too,” she answered.

And off we went, having inadvertently brightened her day with our lavish greetings of amore.

Also known as: redacted.

When I sat down to write about my mom’s cancer the other day, I had a lot of emotions swirling in my head and in my heart. That’s how it is with everything in life, but with something like this in particular, you don’t really know all the places those emotions have seeped until you take a few minutes to process the situation.

For me, I flit through my day having a random thought here, a random emotion there. But not so all-consuming that I necessarily have a grip on the overall situation and how it’s affecting me.

All that is to say, when I got to that last part, the one about people giving advice, I really didn’t see that coming. I just let the words pour out, and lo the emotion was much stronger than I realized.

But that doesn’t mean it was right. I left it there, it was very therapeutic to be so honest and raw, but the more I thought about it, the less I wanted to own that approach. Especially after several people thought I meant them — and I didn’t! I really didn’t have anyone in mind. Oh rats, I’m kind of not telling the truth there. I did have a situation in mind, something I was annoyed about, but I shouldn’t have treated all other input and concern in such a blanket fashion. Even with the situation on my heart, I can’t really challenge the person’s motives. I have to assume the best. I didn’t like it, but isn’t it better to just let it go (because it wasn’t wrongdoing that needed to be addressed, just a comment that was sort of jerky).

What I noticed over the last few days, however, is that allowing myself to hold on to my anger with that situation has snowballed into other areas of anger. Having that negativity front and center seems to have influenced just about every other interaction, even in unrelated ways.

And then, on top of that, the worry that other well-meaning friends and acquaintances are thinking they are the people I’m referring to and me worrying that they are worrying and it all turns into a giant mess of feelings and assumptions from there. Lawdy! Who has the energy for all that!

Not that anyone gave it a second thought, but I had to get that off my chest. I know it’s normal to have reactions of agitation, but for me, in my own life, when I really embrace those agitations, I start going downhill fast. Probably because I don’t tuck things away as neatly as other people, but when I have stuff on my mind, it’s generally right there on my mind. It doesn’t sit back and wait for attention; it takes all the attention.

For those of you who have asked and offered advice, I really am grateful. I would much rather have well-meaning folks who are willing to share information — in a loving, humble way — than to have so few people care that I can hear the crickets chip.

It’s all so complicated and touchy feely. But I had to get it out. Thanks for listening.

These are pictures I found on my phone recently. Enjoy!

1. In which the boys use their sister as an excuse to watch Tangled on the ipad.

2. In which Isabel shows how Italian girls eat pasta, taken at the Senior Spaghetti Dinner fundraiser last night at our school and p.s. my hair doesn’t look great but I don’t care because my day yesterday was crazy productive and my hair is proof! Also, could we have a Funny Caption Contest for what Paul is doing? (thanks for the picture, Andy!)

3. In which some guys from my neighborhood do a song-and-dance number as the “Faith Village People.” To briefly explain, last weekend was the birthday celebration of our Christian community and we had some entertainment as part of the celebrations. These guys sang a few songs to the tunes of some Village People songs. Faith Village is the name of our neighborhood — and see, it’s one of those “you had to be there” when it comes to explaining my life. But I’ll try. I promise, I’m going to try.

4. In which, Henry and Enzo have a parade and I feel good about our decision to get a puppy.

5. In which, a few weeks ago, I find myself sitting in a very nice bar at a very nice hotel overlooking the Boston harbor. And I text my friend Susie and say “I’m sitting in a very nice bar at a very nice hotel overlooking the Boston Harbor eating chowder and working on a talk. Is this what being a grown-up feels like?” And she texts back, “drink a beer for me.” And so I do.

6. In which I got my her did fer the show (translation: I got my hair done for the show! The Gist! That show I’m on.)

 7. In which I share one of our favorite Epiphany gifts (hey, I didn’t claim these pictures were taken recently!). I get everyone one gift for Epiphany and this year was a HOME-RUN! The kind where boys are at a loss for words, where they scream and jump and hug. It was perfect. Gifts included these blocks, a ripstick (more on that later. Best boy gift I think I’ve ever bought, thank you Sarah for the advice!), and some much-desired NBA basketball socks. What can I say? Life with boys is easy. (winky wink)

Hungry for more? Right this way!

My mom has cancer.

Wait. I don’t like the sound of that.

My mom is battling cancer.

Still doesn’t sound great, but it’s closer to reality. My mom doesn’t technically have cancer, in that (we are very confident and hopeful) all the cancer has been removed. There are clean margins and a clear Pet Scan and all that looks good. But she is still in a fight. She’s battling to make sure any trace of a hint of a microanything of cancer is gone. So she’s going to pump her body with high doses of medicine that will kill any tiny specs that might be left — and it isn’t going to be fun.

Here’s the thing about my mom: she really is a fighter. She’s tough, even though she doesn’t always think she is. (But now that I think about it, maybe she does think she is.) She has faced some health issues in the past and when it comes down to the wire, she goes in ready for the challenge. And she does great.

Eight years ago, my mom found out she had breast cancer. It was one of those “if you have to have cancer, this is the kind to get.” Who would say such a thing? Me, I said it. I’m the kind of “reality-check-keep-it-in-persepctive” people when it comes to these things. That’s how I cope. So back then, forever ago, my mom had the cancer removed, did some radiation, made it all look pretty easy and life goes on.

Just before Christmas this year, we found out there was cancer again. I don’t know that the cancer “was back” because perhaps that insinuates it was the same cancer. But either way, another annual mammogram revealed another suspicious spot. It turned out to be cancer. From there, after that initial shock, was the testing to be sure that was the extent of it.

And sometime, not today though, I’m going to get it all out about waiting for those tests to be done. Waiting through the Christmas holidays, watching my beautiful mom and wondering the extent of her illness. Watching her wrestle with it and knowing that deep down, no matter what, well, God was in the midst of it all.

I didn’t realize how utterly preoccupied I was about the whole thing until I got the text from my dad when they found out all the PET scans and CAT scans were clear. I started to cry. I was so relieved. Everything after that just felt like cake. Yes, surgery and chemo. But compared to what it could have been, compared to what the fight might have looked like.

So there’s that side of things — what things could have been. What things are not. And it’s a relief. It’s answered prayers.

But there is still what must be. What my mom will walk through — what she will battle and tackle and conquer (with Jesus’ help!). It’s the journey of getting through the other side and it’s a big journey.

Here’s what I’ve learned in the midst of this, encounters I’ve had and stuff I’m thinking about.

1. I’ve haven’t shared much about this because it’s not about me. It’s a funny thing because watching someone you love walk through something like this can be scary, but ultimately it’s about them. So I watch and pray and think and try to support my parents in the best ways that I can.

2. And yet, it’s about other people as well. It means a lot when people ask “how are you doing?” Not that I want everyone asking that. But here and there, when it’s the right person — a trusted friend, a good friend of my folks’ — it’s like a deep sigh. It’s a reminder that you aren’t crazy for being preoccupied with it, here and there. It’s nice to know that feeling affected by this doesn’t make me selfish or crazy.

3. But it’s nice when people are upbeat — because the situation is not dire. Maybe that’s just how I handle things, but I can’t cope glass-half-empty. Emotionally, I can’t think about worse-case-scenarios. I have to think about the best-case-scenario. That’s my temperament and coping mechanism.

4. Not everyone is like that and you have to give people space to assess and cope the way they do. We’ve had a lot of good discussions as a family in the midst of this. Especially at Christmas, when we were together and we still didn’t know the extent of the situation (which, thank you Jesus, was not worse-case) we had honest discussions about how some of us like to dig our heels in and just steady ourselves. And some of us have to grieve and be honest about fears and gravity.

5. If you are not part of the immediate group — the family, close friends, inner circle — it’s best not to have opinions about treatments and the extent of the situation. Just, you know, keep that to yourself. I’m not trying to be a jerk, but when people make comments about their impression of the situation, it’s really hard for me not to hit them. (What! Did I just say that outloud?! I can’t believe I wrote that but it’s so funny I’m going to leave it. I didn’t realize I felt so strongly about it!)

6. I don’t know. I guess that’s it. Now that I’ve verbalized a desire to inflict bodily harm on people who voice their opinion, I guess there isn’t much else to say.

7. Oh, except: please do pray for my mom. Her prognosis is good, which is probably why I’m willing to write about it. But the next few months are going to be a challenge. She is up to it, but we all know prayer works. Prayers for her and my dad — and selfishly, the rest of us. That we can be here for her the way she needs it. I’ve been so amazed at all the people coming and going next door. She is so lucky to have lots of good, life-long friends who bring meals and clean her house and just hang out.

And bring her viking hats. Because she is a Viking princess. The cancer has already been removed, but she’s still going to kick this season in the ass. (sorry mom, I couldn’t resist)

until I watched this (oh, and the chat with girlfriends helped too! But this especially so.)

I was researching my archives last night and found this picture, posted around my very first blogging Valentine’s. Paul had run a half-marathon the week before, and my good friend Aunt Kathy (mother of my best buds Fr. Tim and Susie, who I often quote here) took this picture of me taking a picture!

Paul and I got engaged on Valentine’s Day and I used to be so embarrassed by that fact (how cliche!) but now I just love it. It makes the day really something special to me, not just “another” holiday that we are “forced” to celebrate. I really get into it.

So Happy Valentine’s Day. I hope this day inspires you to love extravagantly — put aside all childish things, don’t find crap to get upset about. Just love, wholeheartedly and without reserve. That’s my goal too.

Here’s another old Valentine’s post you might enjoy. And here, where love and Chuck Norris intersect.

(And Pauly, I sure do love you. Thanks for asking me to be yours. I’m so glad you did.)

Isa and Momma had movie time this morning. Isa hasn’t been feeling too well — on a whim I took her to see the doctor yesterday and she did have ear infections. It’s always such a relief to hear that. Even though you hate for them to suffer, it’s nice to have a reason for the fussy behavior.

Best part about this picture? We were watching Tangled. An honest-to-goodness girl movie. And it was sublime.