Moving Day

Ok, I'm gonna give it a try.
I'm moving.
Blogwise, that is.
Yup, please please go see me at my new home: Another Espresso Please  on Wordpress.
It's a trial run and if I don't like it, I"ll be back here.  But I'm gonna give it a good shot. It'll take me a bit to get the blogroll going and the widgets working and all, so it's a work in progress....but I'll be figuring it out as quick as I can...

So....
the new address:  http://anotherespressoplease.net

Also, I'm all worried that I'll be all alone in the blogosphere, with no one to come have come coffee with me.  My insecure side is flaring; even as my adventurous side is kind of excited about new digs.
So, please update your links (Now, it's a ".net" address.  It's shorter to type in, a quick fix) and come on over!

Mama Strength

Today is a kooky day in a choppy crazy week.  I mean, today's parenting had me looking at the clock at 6:38 a.m. and thinking, "I'm done. Uh-oh. I've used up all my parenting goodness already, holy mackerel."

But of course, I wasn't.
Not by a long shot.

Not much later, I went to the school Mass and my sweet Emmy came to sit by me.  Ah, bliss.
After, I got to canoodle with the small boys and touch base after a very tough morning with a wild Little Man...and bump noses to remind him that I loved him "to the moon and back" before he went back to classes. 

Minutes later my eldest called - ebullient - to tell me that he was finished with college, he had finished; all undergrad classes, work, exams, the whole shebang - done.  We whooped it up together on the phone and I told him I was proud of him for a job well done.
A bit later, my other college frosh son called to tell me he was done in another way: drained and depleted with one hard final left to go.  So, tips and encouragement and prayers for him.
Exactly as I was hanging up, an email came in from Marta's teacher giving me a heads up about a meltdown at school and incoming home this afternoon; change just throws this girl under the bus.  Tears there, tears to be here.  Oh dear....and a little bit/lots of dread.
In between all of these were moments, of course, of other mundane mom-job stuff, tending and caring for the bodies and household stuff......and all of it seemed pretty routine.

 And then I read this post of a dear girl/um, friend.   She writes of needing to go to Ethiopia soon, to court for her next child.  To do so, she has to leave her first sweet boy.  And it takes her breath away.  Oh, just reading those words I can conjure up those feelings from doing that very same thing.  I had to leave my small boys to go across the world to bring home my child.  Twice! One of those times was to get one of those small boys {the one who jumped me after Mass while I was hugging his sister}.
And I remembered back to that feeling and those panic attacks and that breathless feeling.  It's awful.  But....I also remembered what came with that.
Mama strength.

It is the strength that we build as moms, in the doing of our everyday tending body and soul of these kids....it builds mom muscle.
That mom strength is resolute in it's willingness to do what needs to be done for her kid.  
Even if it is gaspingly hard.
Even if it is wearisome, tedious, or....dreadful, we will do it.
If it is skittley, or tap dancing happy, or peaceful,  we will do it. 
If it is sorrowful, grief-stricken, we will be there, we will do it.
If it is irritating, tiresome, frustrating, we do it.
If it is funny, or quirky or weird, we do it.
We do what needs to be done; from threading belts through pantloops to pouring juice, from listening through gulping tears to counting down a timeout.
We sit through meltdowns, we endure raging spewing and bottomless grief.
We read, we research, we get status reports by phone on classes and roommates.

We hope, we dream, we pray.
We cook, we clean, we counsel.
We drive, oh, how we drive.

We fly across the world with our hearts lurching up, unable to speak for the love that chokes our words. 
We stand in the gap, or, really, next to the fridge and sink, and we are strong.

I forget that...oh many many days.
It might seem that the strength is only on the good days, but I say it's not.
We only SEE it and feel it on the good days.
But it's there, we've built it in a million uncounted exercises of our heart and body.  To use common fitness parlance; it's our core.  It's mama strength.  It builds on itself in a magical kind of way and draws deep.  It is as real as real is; too bad it doesn't look like a six-pack {abs, people…ok?} or better in a bikini.  But I'd say it's more beautiful, all the same. 

"Old Mother Stitching" by Jurij Subic, 1855-1890

They're Here......

Reminiscent of "Poltergeist," eh?

Kinda....tho we are not talking about ghosts, or aliens, or paranormal activity.
 Nope, we are talking about real plague level bugs and grossness: cicadas.
 Less Spielberg, more redneck....

I don't fault you if you confused them with locusts; especially as they increase in their hordes and their noise becomes deafening.  They will swarm mowers and cover trees, make dogs sick as they crunch them like popcorn and elicit whoops of joy from boys who torment their sisters.  You crunch them as you walk, you wipe them off your car window with the windshield wipers, you give big spreading trees on the driveway or sidewalk a wide berth...and wear a baseball cap.  Yeah, really, you get the idea...
But, in fact, they are not  locusts and this isn't divine retribution.

 It's just bugs.
Lots of them; for 4-5 weeks or so.  
They arrive here in the south on a 13 year cycle and my big boys are laughing at the memory of them and the other kids...well they are not sure what to think...yet.

Me either.  It could go either way; as a trigger to freaking out and anger by my daughter who hates things that mess up routines, as a trigger to freaking out by another daughter who freaks out at any flying bug and bolts inside in paranoia, as a trigger to mischief and pranks by boys big and small...too, too hard to resist (all boys...even the dad person, ahem).

 
So, we will wait out this cycle and be very glad it's only once every 13 years.
Summer fun!

Look Closer Again. And again

Look Closer, Again
I wrote this last year.
I think this has to be an annual post maybe.
Because we cannot should not forget.
And I don't know how to say this differently.
So, I'm saying it again and again:
The faces are the same.
They are joined by new ones.
But, mostly, they are the same.

So, I'll say this as many times as it needs to be said:

Today is World AIDS Orphans Day.

These are the faces of the littlest ones.

Not necessarily the youngest, I mean, the littlest.

These are the ones it's so easy to pass over and look beyond.

But these are our children too.

We are so bombarded with causes and pictures that it's easy to get overwhelmed, desensitized, numb.

But look at these faces.

Really, look at them.

These are kids.
They are orphans.

They lost their moms and or dads to AIDS.

See them with your heart and soul.

Do something.
Give them the dignity and humanity to really SEE them....
Then say a prayer for them, donate, reach out...
...touch them, hold them, hug them if you can, even.

They are just kids...our kids....who have a future, or should.

LA TIMES FESTIVAL OF BOOKS IN THE CENTRAL CITY - THAT'S BETTER

At last weekend's LA Times Festival of Books I had one particular interaction that really summed up for me why I liked it better this year - at USC, near downtown L.A. - than I have in previous years - at UCLA, in West L.A.

A family came up to me as I "manned" the Sisters in Crime L.A. Chapter booth. The parents were probably in their 30s, one daughter was a young teen, the other maybe nine or ten. They were Hispanic and they had come from a booth selling books in Spanish. Now the parents wanted their daughters to meet some writers who wrote in English and to also look over the English books on sale. We chatted for a while. The parents apologized that they couldn't afford to buy books, that instead they often took their daughters to the library. I told them there was no reason to apologize, that the important thing was that their daughters and they were interested in reading and in books and wanting to know about writers. Their commitment to that, and to show up at a book festival on a weekend - via public transit (far easier to USC than to UCLA) no less - was a wonderful thing. We talked about books and writing and then they went on their way.

Throughout the day I spoke with similar families and individuals, people who loved books and reading, couldn't really afford to buy many, or any books, but who used their local libraries and were happy to be at a festival where they could meet writers and other like-minded people. A lot of them had also come via public transit.

This year's LATFOB was a great deal more diverse - near as I could tell from walking around and observing the crowd - than it has been in previous years. (By "diverse" I mean by race, ethnicity and national origin.) My completely unscientific, based only on personal observation, estimate is that about half the crowd was not Caucasian. (At UCLA it always seemed like it was 85 percent or so white middle and upper class people like myself, like the Westside itself.)

I have no idea how book sales went. It could be that booksellers weren't all that happy. I have a feeling that the book buying public in L.A. is heavily skewed toward the more affluent Westside. But this year's LATFOB struck me as much more representative of the city as a whole, and of the greatest single thing about Los Angeles - it's diversity. And I liked that very much.

It doesn't have much to do with what I was just writing about, but here's a picture of me, Paul Marks and Laura Levine signing books in the SinCLA booth.
Like any book event these days I spent much of my time talking with other writers about ebooks. Several times while I was sitting in the booth, hoping to sign paper and ink books that people bought, I was asked if my books were available for Kindle, or Nook or some iGadget or another. They are. Five people told me that they planned to buy my ebooks. I made jokes that if they brought their e-reader to me I'd sign it for them.

Joking aside, it's an interesting question that a lot of us writers were pondering. A lot of people do want their books signed. Some people collect first editions. How is that going to happen? One thing I've been considering is to print out a bunch of copies of the covers of my ebooks. I can sign those for people. I suppose with regard to first editions, one possibility is that, say, there is a special e-cover for the first, oh, 500 or a thousand or whatever ebooks are downloaded. Then a different cover comes out.

I don't know. Anybody have any thoughts on the matter?

I also encountered several writers who had recently finished their first book and were polling us published authors as to whether or not we thought they should consider going straight to self-publishing ebooks, rather than a traditional publishing deal. The consensus among the writers I spoke with, and overheard, seemed to be that for someone who hasn't been previously published, a traditional paper and ink deal was still important, maybe even vital, for a first book (or two) to give it credibility. (A traditional publication comes with at least something of a reassurance that someone other than the author thought the book was worth publishing and that it has been edited, copyedited and proofread by others who presumably know what they are doing.) In spite of all the changes going on in publishing, most writers seem to think that hasn't changed - at least not yet.

No one, however, could agree on what this all means to mid-list authors such as myself who already have a track record of traditional paper and ink publications. That's something that is currently driving myself and most of the other authors I know who are in the midst of careers similar to mine utterly nuts.

Measuring. Or, how to make yourself crazy in older child adoption...

Measuring.
We do it all the time.
I could go on a tear about how we as Americans do it, with everything, but that might be a whole 'nother post....and the point is that we do it consciously or unconsciously...ALL THE TIME.

But let's stay focused: as parents we measure...what? Everything, right? Right!
And no matter  how you became a parent, you still measure everything..right?
Hmmm.  Think maybe not? Well, consider:

My Chris, this pic makes me laugh...goofy baby pics, gotta love em.

If you are having a baby, by which I mean, you are pregnant and are gonna literally give birth to a child...from the very moment you find out you are pregnant, there you are: measuring.
You measure how many weeks along you are, you count the days since your last period, you count how many months ahead til your due date.  Then you go to the doctor and they too immediately start measuring: they measure your belly for the first time (and they will keep that up until it just alarms you) they measure your weight (again, this continues to a shocking gain - unless you tell them to 'quit that' as I did when I just couldn't take the numbers on that scale anymore).  They measure and they measure.  Thus, it's no surprise that you are unwittingly indoctrinated into this habit of measuring and by the time that baby pops out - or, if you're measuring, is pushed out after 21 hours of labor that felt like 45, taking what must be 3 years off  your life with the effort - you are measuring without even realizing you're doing it.  And of course, they whisk the baby away and do all sort of measuring with fancy names like APGAR and fill in fancy charts and graphs with the incessant measuring.

It doesn't end there, once you are home you measure the amount the baby sleeps or doesn't, how much they eat or don't, or if you're nursing, how often and how long, you measure their hair with your fingertips and count their toes again and again just to be sure they are all there and as cute as you remembered 5 minutes ago.  Then you start the next phase of measuring which is only slightly less number based: the developmental milestones.  As you can see, it just goes on and on and on, in one form or another...the rest of their measured little lives!

Now it's easy to think, "Aha, but I'm adopting, that doesn't even apply to me." 
Well, hang on Roy Rogers...sure it does.
Because if you're adopting an infant, well you get ALL the infant measuring from the moment of birth onward and then some.  Yeah, you're gonna get those APGARS and count those toes, don't think you'll skip that part.

Sweet Sarah

But you get the added perk, to make up for the personal belly measuring, of measuring Your. Entire. Life. in order to see if it measures up to the standards of your social worker, the agency, the judges, the police FBI feds government, even if it measures up to Homeland Security if you're adopting internationally.  Nope, you don't get a "pass" on measuring in the adoption lanes.
So yeah, you'll be measuring your weight after all, and your spouse's, your other kids, even your dog's weight (Think I'm kidding about the dog? Check out our dossier, I kid you not).  You'll measure your finances and traffic fines, your health and your fitness to parent, and on and on. Let's not even get started on measuring and counting the wait!
Finally, when that happy day comes and  you are holding that little one in your arms, well, you will sob with amazement and then you'll go right back to the measuring game like the rest of the parents.

But this post isn't about that, not really.....
This post is about the measuring done in a whole 'nother zone: the zone of Older Child Adoption.
In that world, that lane of family building, the measuring takes on all new meaning and form.

And, it's not good.

The measuring that is done in Older Child Adoption is not nearly so factual or innocuous.
This measuring is more insidious and unconscious and, frankly, is a big huge bear trap.

Because what they don't tell you in the adoption books is that we moms, we measure us. 
We measure ourselves against the first mom, against our ideas of what a perfect mom is supposed to be do or how they should appear (...again, like in the fashion ads, it's always the Benetton mom..but I don't have a stylist following me around every day..I know you thought I did, lots of folks make that mistake...but I don't). 
But even all that, that's not the worst of it.
The measuring that is killing us, we moms who have adopted older children, and/or children from the hard places, is the measuring of our feelings.
Our FEEEEEELINGS.
Hear that screeching just saying it? Yeah, my voice goes up an octave or two, on the hard days, when I even say that word out loud.
But taking our emotional temperature, checking in with our feelings (love, like, affection, annoyance, disdain, dislike) most of the time, is a trap.
I'm not saying never do it.
But I'm saying  you need to do it far, far, far less often that you think.

In fact, I would like to point out that I believe we moms, in this circumstance of Older Child Adoption, tend to take our emotional temperature...constantly.  I think we, without even realizing it, are always having it on our radar scroll, just like our own personal emotional CNN.  It's our ENN (Emotional News Network).

But this is one of the huge differences in older versus younger or infant adoption.
These feelings take longer, there is more to build to learn to absorb to work through...for all parties.
In older child adoption the primal human process of bonding is skewed and twisted all around.  The trauma that is inherent in older child adoption (and it is, always, to varying degrees) and/or the prior family experience all influence the new bonding, and it's efforts; what it looks like, how it plays, how it stalls, what form it eventually takes.
For all involved, all of it, every bit of it, takes time.  Unknowable, unmapped time.
These older children come to us as whole persons; with personalities and traits and hearts already formed and molded to a very very large degree. 
And so, if any or all of you are taking that emotional temperature, if you're measuring constantly or even daily (much less hourly or minutely)...you will lose your mind.   You're setting the stage for crazy.

So stop it.
Yup. Stop it.
Stop the measuring!
I might tattoo that, too, on my forehead so I can look at it every time I brush my teeth.
Stop the measuring!
Measuring implies a mark that must be reached.
There is no mark.
A dear friend told me, at the very start of this last adoption, "Don't take your emotional temperature every day.  Just don't."
She's right.
Another dear friend told me recently, "Stop being so hard on yourself and measuring to what you think it's supposed to be.  What if this, right now, is ALL it's supposed to be? This.  This IS good enough."

And I guess that's what I am still chewing on, hence this looong rambly post.
But I think we mom's, me, need permission to accept that we don't have to measure every moment, every day, every thing.  We can stop the ENN scroll bar.  We don't have to even know our emotional temperature.  We don't have to feel our emotional temperature.  Once more: Love is not about the feelings.
So, let's stop scanning our feeeeelinnngs.
And let's kick that bit of crazy right out of our days.
With older child adoption, we are here. We are in place.  We are doing it, all of it.

And that's good enough.
By any measure.

May. Month to pray.

And now it is May!



It is a month to pray the rosary; to start if you haven't ever done it and wondered about it. 
To learn a bit more about it if you don't understand it (no it's not deifying Mary, it's asking for prayers). It's a month of springtime and beauty, and I have found such comfort and grace in this prayer of contemplation.
This video above is from last year and is about praying for our dedicated priests.  Most of the priests in this world are good holy men, who give their lives in service and prayer, for us.  They can certainly use some of our prayers, right back.
Think about it.
It's easier than it looks and it's May!
All the hip folks are doing it!
Happy May!

Oh, Mercy Me

Divine Mercy

Painting, "Divine Mercy" Michael O'Brian

It is Divine Mercy Sunday.

I don't know about you, but I need all the mercy I can get.  

For quite some time, I didn't pay much attention to this devotion.  It seemed goofy, in a way. Sorry, but it did. I sometimes shy away from things that I haven't fully looked into and/or fully understand. And also, frankly, the more sentimentalized  traditional imagery and ever more sentimentalized editions of this devotion didn't set well with me, or my oddball aesthetic.  I know, shallow perhaps, but there it is.  My reality.

Anyhow, but as I learn more about this devotion, I am learning about the simple beauty of it.  And I think it is what we all crave.  Mercy.  Just that.  Just a little mercy. 

To that end, the Church recognized today,  the first Sunday after Easter, as Divine Mercy Sunday.  Because Easter is ALL about Mercy, Divine Mercy.  If it is not about mercy, really, there is no real reason to even get out of bed.  But it is.  I know it, heart and soul. 

So today, I join in the prayer:

"....for the sake of His sorrowful passion, 

Have Mercy on us, and on the whole world."

Happy Easter...still easter....yay.....

**reposted from last year, because this says it for me**

Tattoo You

Ok...me.

That's right, once again I have stepped into my own personal quicksand and emotional bear trap.
I was joking with a girlfriend that I need to tattoo this on my forehead, so I'll see it every single time I brush my teeth:

It's not about me.

Right here.  That's where it needs to go...

Yuh...see, because, it always so is, I make it so (Just like Jean Luc Picard! But not so elegantly. Not near....).  And, yeah, by posting I'm continuing the cycle..I know I know...you see how I get stuck?!
But I need to remember it, chant it, memorize, do homeschool copy work:

it's not about me its not about me its not about me its not about me it's not about me its not about me its not about me its not about me it's not about me its not about me its not about me its not about me it's not about me its not about me its not about me its not about me it's not about me its not about me its not about me its not about me it's not about me its not about me its not about me its not about me it's not about me its not about me its not about me its not about me it's not about me its not about me its not about me its not about me it's not about me its not about me its not about me its not about me...

Anyhow, you get the idea.  One of my favorite mama trauma bloggers had a post all too similar up like this, except hers really wasn't about her, it was about someone else who was terrific and a link to their post.  I am sure I've stolen it in some lesser form out of my tortured memory today....See, still, not good.  Go read her blog tho, if you want insight or profundity or just a breather from some of the tough time in parenting land....

Because, no, it's not about me.  So if it's not....why can't I step out of it all, parent more SIMPLY, take the breather that the concept offers...and stop the hard and hurt of it all on the bad days? Parent the behavior and not the emotions.
Why can't I just let go?
Simple huh?
Apparently...not so much.

Tattoos....looking better all the time.

Setting Fire

Today is the feast day of another of my favorite saints, more so now than ever: St. Catherine of Siena.
Siena also happens to be one of my top two favorite towns in Italy, I loved it there!
So much to say about this saint, but this quote from this amazing holy faithful pushy humble strong woman, Doctor of the Church, really sums it up:

"If you are who God made you to be, you will set the whole world on fire!"
-St. Catherine

Turn-Keys in Adoption: Family Dinner

 Ah, the family dinner.
A subject that greater minds and bigger hearts than mine have explored and pondered for many years. Indeed, it's  a fixation of modern shelter magazines and cable shows; how to cook and create a wonderland of fantasy meals. 

I'm not gonna attempt to lay down new paths or thoughts; that's above my pay grade.
This post is my ongoing consideration of dinner, supper, and what it means to the family, especially one built through the often messy process of adoption. 

In fact, I have come to believe that the seemingly simple concept of dinner is really, for us at least, a turn key in attachment.
Yep, this is another one of those posts.  I have a series of them, sporadically put up as I need to process things or I start stewing about stuff {go here:trust, touch, transitions, schedules, Christmas, prayer}.

I think that the whole idea of family dinner is one that is super easy to brush off.  We've heard it all before, from our own parents to the modern beta parents on tv: Oprah, Dr. Phil, Dr. Spock, Judge Judy...heck, everybody's got an opinion.  But this forum is mine and thus this blog post is about my meandering musings down the dinner table.

Now, I'd love to say that our family has beautiful Rockwell quality dinners.  That we all sit down in a calm and mannered fashion to an elegant and/or chic table every night and linger easily over interesting and savory local, foodie creative meals that nourish our bodies and souls.  Right.  But if I did, I'd be lying.

Ramare Bearden, Color Screenprint, 1993

 Our dinners are often a jumble; kids needing to be called to the table, fetched from outside,  hollered for repeatedly (yes, we/I holler, it's not my proudest moment).  Kids race to snag the primo chair; which designation will ever remain an unfathomable mystery to us parents.  {Sometimes it's a mystery to the racers too, but the race is on, nightly, nevertheless.}  This frequently leads to some sulking about not claiming said spot and  having to sit in the "stupid" spot.  Dinner is considered and often declared "gross" or "yuk" and the sulk extended.  We parental types try to regain calm by lighting a candle or two and then beginning with prayer, going around the table to nudge each kid to come up with something, anything, to be thankful for this day...all the while reminding the wild small boys to sit on their chair, hands off their legos, cars off the table, sshh, with significant looks and the not infrequent verbal cue.  After that, we try to have real conversation as we dine (ok, we eat).  This effort rarely succeeds; what with two teenage girls and two preteen girls, any variation thereof who can often be found nursing some level of mood. Occasionally, one of the girls might be working an angle to get some yet unknown advantage and thus launch a bright and superficially charming conversational gambit.  Those nights the repartee is especially exciting for the unknown results and volatility.  Otherwise the conversation can be rather stilted attempts at extracting details of the day at school (yes, much like pulling teeth, actually) and continuing to referee sulking players; all the while leaving us two over forty craving scintillating discussion of current events or politics or heck, number theory...anything at all to change it up. (I lied, I will never crave discussion of number theory, evah.)

 Jean Foss, "Family Dinner"

Often enough one or three kids will thank me for the cooking, signaling the end of the meal; a truly lovely and appreciated gesture (always Marta, sweet habit) and then bolt to the beyond of upstairs to escape the ensuing chaos that erupts after dinner.  Then the dishes are clattered to the counters and sinks, reminders of dish night assignments handed out, and the dinner comes to a close as I try to scoot/race the little boys up to the bedtime routine.

Thus we have three phases to our dinners: preparation, partaking, and cleanup.   All of them are key to our family dinner and to the foundation that is laid.  It is the whole of the process that makes the family dinner so important, and yes, a turn-key to adjustment.
I want to say that again: I think the whole of the process: the prep, the sitting/eating, and the aftermath, is important to the bonding and attachment found in the family dinner.

The importance of this meal, it's function as a key for us, is coming more and more clear to me; especially over these past few months of our adjustment to our newest daughter Marta.  She has a need for a very defined order to her days, she counts on it, it is her safety zone.  And the dinner routine, as close to 'no  matter what' we can get, is key to her sense of well being, and thus, attachment.
I daresay it is the same for our other children, young and old, bio or adopted. 

Family dinner counts.

The time to prepare it shows our newest daughter, without words, that this time is important to us as family.  She sees me, as do all  my kids, thinking about it in advance, shopping, preparing it, prepping the table for it.  If it wasn't important I wouldn't bother.  They all know it.
If I can get it together during the day, I try to have the table set and dinner planned and begun to prep as she/they arrive home from school....yes, it's very Donna Reed, but it's very very comforting and secure.  All of my kids, each and every one, ask me, every day within minutes of seeing me after school: "What's for dinner?"  Each one of them need that answer, sometimes I say "I don't know!" But, if I name a meal,  it's an almost visible sigh out of them to hear the answer - even if it's not their favorite.  Because it signifies that I am on it and life is secure.  Now, they won't say it that way, but I see it that way now...because of my newest daughter.  Her life was not secure and dinner wasn't a guarantee or even always an option.  So, yeah, this is important stuff...for all of them, but absolutely critical for her. 
It is a turnkey on so many levels: food, primal sustenance, comfort, family, routine.

Peter Blume, Vegetable Dinner, 1927

The sitting down together is a coming together, a pause in the day to nourish our bodies and us as a group together, to nourish our sense of family.  The kids can't see that, sometimes it's just a chore...for me too.  (I can easily, if I were to choose, skip the eating of dinner, most any day.....)
But beyond that obligation and duty lies great unspoken meaning: family, it's important and this is ours.
And happily enough, that meaning is not reliant on the context of perfection or glossy fantasies of "should be" or "looks like."
I will go out on a cyber limb and even say that the very chaotic mess of our dinners, and it's own particular kind of standard chaos, defines our own family culture and is a feature of this key to attaching into our family. 

The cleanup, well, its not nearly the pretty part.  Not that any part of our dinners every really are so much...but cleanup is a mess and a job.  But by having the kids all take part (they rotate dish duty) and their dad usually giving them a boost of help...they learn that they too are contributors to the family. They don't only take...they too give to each other and the family.  Giving back is part of the key to attachment.  Unless you are invested in something or someone, by serving them in some form (time, attention, effort), it's very hard to have a two way attachment. Now, that's just my opinion...but I hold it close.  I think you love by doing.  I think the best way to help a child learn that they are an integral part of the family is to  have them pitch in and help that family, just the same as the other kids (or to their ability).  

So, who'da thunk it?
Family dinner, be it vichyssoise or burgers, means ever so much more than the calorie count.  And really, it's not even about the actual food or the quality of it; be it fancy french or sub sandwiches.
It's about the whole process of the dinner, as a family.
I think it's one of the better keys in your tool belt as a parent.  
I think that so much of what we do, we feel we have to follow the perfect script or recipe or rules or recommendations.  But the beauty in the messy chaos and routine of the family dinner is that it allows for our unique seasonings and tweaks and settings.  It is our own. 
It is in the very making and prepping and sitting and tastings of it, we find our own selves and each other. 
This is a turn key to attachment for each of us, adopted or not, for healing and blending together as a family.  It is a key that is not a hard metal bit to be clanged about...rather this one is as a red ripe tomato, bursting with goodness, begging to be savored.

Jos van Riswick, Tomato 15x15

Word of joy

It is an ancient tradition, this phrase in the liturgy.
But it's one that keeps rolling around  my head this morning, after the beautiful late vigil Mass last night...

Rubens, "The Resurrection of Christ"

"I announce to you a great joy: it is the Alleluia."

My Chris was telling me about this being part of the Easter Vigil last year at the Vatican too. It's not always a part of the liturgy, but the deacon brings this message to the Pope (or, in our case, our pastor) and then the bells start ringing and we sing the Alleluia once again, because today...today the news of great giddy joy IS The Alleluia!
He is risen indeed....

Michaelangelo's drawing, "The Resurrection of Christ"

Happy Joyful Glorious Easter! 

My favorite day of the year.

The Silence of Holy Saturday

Shhh.
Listen.
Be still.
I know...it's that day.
It's the day of the tomb.
Silent as a tomb....

Holy Saturday is a day of silence.

 painting Michael O'Brian

It is the tomb.
It is the day of grieving and being still, quiet for it...or mindful of it and trying to find that still silent spot inside; ever difficult in our modern days and my busy loud life.
This is the day when the tabernacles, across the world, are barren.
And the emptiness is visceral.
I feel it.
I think the world feels it.
I do.

Tonight is the vigil and the promise of the return of the light, Light itself.
But for today. 
It is the deposition, the tomb.

And the noise, it's a racket.  

My kids and the calling across the house a jangle of sound.

But even my kids, loud always, anticipating the joy and sugar of Easter tomorrow...they see the solemnity of this day, a little tiny bit.

The prayers are solemn, the see it, feel it, hear it as we pray through this day.

I crave to carve out some quieting time this day.  

I crave to go sit in adoration, but the tabernacle - it's empty. 

I feel the loss and out of sorts, even as I prep for tonight and tomorrow.  

It's so often a cranky fussy day, because exactly this out of alignment, the soul knows this marking and reacts with a squeezed ache.  

It is noisy in this silence, the noise of my children yes but the noise of my heart beating, looking for Him and thinking of her weeping this day.

It is a clanging silence....

So.  We wait.

Via Crucis, week 6: Good Friday

Every Friday in Lent I'm putting up the Stations of the Cross.
It's an uber Catholic thing....but then again not.
Anyone can meditate on the Stations of the Cross, and lent is the perfect time to do so. 
It is a rigorous walk, in prayer...and has it's own hard beauty.
Take a look, read, pray if you are inclined:

These are from the UCSSB site, and typically these are prayed with others.  But I tend to pray them alone...because I send Tom and the bigs to the church to pray them and I stay with the  littles and pray them on my own.  Either way, it works for me. 
Some tips: Yes, we pray all fourteen stations, every time.  Yes, it's long but if you meditate on the station/image it's very powerful. Yes, I do get distracted, always, it's a given.  I just redirect, again and again. 

"The following stations of the cross are based on those celebrated by Pope John Paul II on Good Friday 1991. They are presented here as an alternative to the traditional stations¹ and as a way of reflecting more deeply on the Scriptural accounts of Christ's passion."

So, let's begin:

Michele Gautsch, Stations

Before each station:

Minister (or family leader, or you):
We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you.

All:
Because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world.

After each station:

All:
Lord Jesus, help us walk in your steps.


Opening Prayer:

Minister:
God of power and mercy,
in love your sent your Son
that we might be cleansed of sin
and live with you forever.
Bless us as we gather to reflect
on his suffering and death
that we may learn from his example
the way we should go.

We ask this through that same Christ, our Lord.

All:
Amen.

Stabat Mater, sung:
*At the cross her station keeping
Stood the mournful Mother weeping
Close to Jesus to the last

First Station: Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane

Reader:
Then Jesus came with them to a place called Gethsemane, and he said to his disciples, "Sit here while I go over there and pray." He took along Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, and began to feel sorrow and distress. Then he said to them, "My soul is sorrowful even to death. Remain here and keep watch with me." He advanced a little and fell prostrate in prayer, saying, "My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; yet, not as I will, but as you will." When he returned to his disciples he found them asleep. He said to Peter, "So you could not keep watch with me for one hour? Watch and pray that you may not undergo the test. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak."
Matthew 25:36-41

Minister:
Lord,
grant us your strength and wisdom,
that we may seek to follow your will in all things


*Through her heart, His sorrow sharing
All His bitter anguish bearing
Now at length the sword has passed

Second Station: Jesus, Betrayed by Judas, is Arrested

Reader: Then, while [Jesus] was still speaking, Judas, one of the Twelve, arrived, accompanied by a crowd with swords and clubs, who had come from the chief priests, the scribes, and the elders. His betrayer had arranged a signal with them, saying, "the man I shall kiss is the one; arrest him and lead him away securely." He came and immediately went over to him and said, "Rabbi." And he kissed him. At this they laid hands on him and arrested him.
Mark 14: 43-46

Minister:
Lord,
grant us the courage of our convictions
that our lives may faithfully reflect the good news you bring.

* O, how sad and sore depressed
Was that Mother highly blessed
Of the sole Begotten One

Third Station: Jesus is Condemned by the Sanhedrin

Reader: When day came the council of elders of the people met, both chief priests and scribes, and they brought him before their Sanhedrin. They said, "If you are the Messiah, tell us," but he replied to them, "If I tell you, you will not believe, and if I question, you will not respond. But from this time on the Son of Man will be seated at the right hand of the power of God." They all asked, "Are you then the Son of God?" He replied to them, "You say that I am." Then they said, "What further need have we for testimony? We have heard it from his own mouth."
Luke 22: 66-71

Minister:
Lord,
grant us your sense of righteousness
that we may never cease to work
to bring about the justice of the kingdom that you promised.

* Christ above in torment hangs
She beneath beholds the pangs
Of her dying, glorious Son

Fourth Station: Jesus is Denied by Peter

Reader: Now Peter was sitting outside in the courtyard. One of the maids came over to him and said, "You too were with Jesus the Galilean." But he denied it in front of everyone, saying, "I do not know what you are talking about!" As he went out to the gate, another girl saw him and said to those who were there, "This man was with Jesus the Nazorean." Again he denied it with an oath, "I do not know the man!" A little later the bystanders came over and said to Peter, "Surely you too are one of them; even your speech gives you away." At that he began to curse and to swear, "I do not know the man." And immediately a cock crowed. Then Peter remembered the word that Jesus had spoken: "Before the cock crows you will deny me three times." He went out and began to weep bitterly.
Matthew 26: 69-75

Minister:
Lord,
grant us the gift of honesty
that we may not fear to speak the truth even when difficult.

* Is there one who would not weep,
'whelmed in miseries so deep
Christ's dear Mother to behold.

Fifth Station: Jesus is Judged by Pilate

Reader: The chief priests with the elders and the scribes, that is, the whole Sanhedrin, held a council. They bound Jesus, led him away, and handed him over to Pilate. Pilate questioned him, "Are you the king of the Jews?" He said to him in reply, "You say so." The chief priests accused him of many things. Again Pilate questioned him, "Have you no answer? See how many things they accuse you of." Jesus gave him no further answer, so that Pilate was amazed.... Pilate, wishing to satisfy the crowd, released Barrabas... [and] handed [Jesus] over to be crucified.
Mark 15: 1-5, 15

Minister:
Lord,
grant us discernment
that we may see as you see, not as the world sees.

*Can the human heart refrain
From partaking in her pain
In that Mother's pain untold?

Sixth Station: Jesus is Scourged and Crowned with Thorns

Reader:
Then Pilate took Jesus and had him scourged. And the soldiers wove a crown out of thorns and placed it on his head, and clothed him in a purple cloak, and they came to him and said,"Hail, King of the Jews!" And they struck him repeatedly.
John 19: 1-3

Minister:
Lord,
grant us patience in times of suffering
that we may offer our lives as a sacrifice of praise.

*Bruised, derided, cursed, defiled
She beheld her tender Child
All with bloody scourges rent.

Seventh Station: Jesus Bears the Cross

Reader: When the chief priests and the guards saw [Jesus] they cried out, "Crucify him, crucify him!" Pilate said to them, "Take him yourselves and crucify him. I find no guilt in him." ... They cried out, "Take him away, take him away! Crucify him!" Pilate said to them, "Shall I crucify your king?" The chief priests answered, "We have no king but Caesar." Then he handed him over to them to be crucified. So they took Jesus, and carrying the cross himself he went out to what is called the Place of the Skull, in Hebrew, Golgotha.
John 19: 6, 15-17

Minister:
Lord,
grant us strength of purpose
that we may faithfully bear our crosses each day.

*For the sins of His own nation
Saw Him hang in desolation
Till His spirit forth He sent

Eighth Station: Jesus is Helped by Simon the Cyrenian to Carry the Cross

Reader: They pressed into service a passer-by, Simon, a Cyrenian, who was coming in from the country, the father of Alexander and Rufus, to carry his cross.
Mark 15: 21

Minister:
Lord,
grant us willing spirits
that we may be your instruments on earth.

*O sweet Mother! Fount of Love,
Touch my spirit from above
Make my heart with yours accord.

Ninth Station: Jesus Meets the Women of Jerusalem

Reader: A large crowd of people followed Jesus, including many women who mourned and lamented him. Jesus turned to them and said, "Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me; weep instead for yourselves and for your children, for indeed, the days are coming when people will say, 'Blessed are the barren, the wombs that never bore and the breasts that never nursed.' At that time, people will say to the mountains, 'Fall upon us!' and to the hills, 'Cover us!' for if these things are done when the wood is green what will happen when it is dry?"
Luke 23: 27-31

Minister:
Lord,
grant us gentle spirits
that we may comfort those who mourn.

*Make me feel as You have felt
Make my soul to glow and melt
With the love of Christ, my Lord.

Tenth Station: Jesus is Crucified

Reader: When they came to the place called the Skull, they crucified him and the criminals there, one on his right, the other on his left. [Then Jesus said, "Father, forgive them, they know not what they do."]
Luke 23: 33-34

Minister:
Lord,
grant us merciful hearts
that we may bring your reconciliation and forgiveness to all.

*Holy Mother, pierce me through
In my heart each wound renew
Of my Savior crucified.

Eleventh Station: Jesus Promises His Kingdom to the Good Thief

Reader: Now one of the criminals hanging there reviled Jesus, saying, "Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us." The other, however, rebuking him, said in reply, "Have you no fear of God, for you are subject to the same condemnation? And indeed, we have been condemned justly, for the sentence we received corresponds to our crimes, but this man has done nothing criminal." Then he said, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom." He replied to him, "Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise."
Luke 23: 39-43

Minister:
Lord,
grant us perseverance
that we may never stop seeking you.

*Let me share with you His pain,
Who for all our sins was slain,
Who for me in torments died.

Twelfth Station: Jesus Speaks to His Mother and the Disciple

Reader: Standing by the cross of Jesus were his mother and his mother's sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary of Magdala. When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple there whom he loved, he said to his mother, "Woman, behold, your son." Then he said to the disciple, "Behold, your mother." And from that hour the disciple took her into his home.
John 19: 25-27

Minister:
Lord,
grant us constancy
that we may be willing to stand by those in need.

*Let me mingle tears with thee
Mourning Him who mourned for me,
All the days that I may live.

Thirteenth Station: Jesus Dies on the Cross

Reader: It was now about noon and darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon because of an eclipse of the sun. Then the veil of the temple was torn down the middle. Jesus cried out in a loud voice, "Father, into your hands I commend my spirit"; and when he had said this he breathed his last.
Luke 23: 44-46

Minister:
Lord,
grant us trust in you
that when our time on earth is ended
our spirits may come to you without delay.

*By the cross with you to stay
There with you to weep and pray
Is all I ask of you to give.

Michele Mahan, Stations

Fourteenth Station: Jesus is Placed in the Tomb

Reader:
When it was evening, there came a rich man from Arimathea named Joseph, who was himself a disciple of Jesus. He went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus; then Pilate ordered it to be handed over. Taking the body, Joseph wrapped it [in] clean linen and laid it in his new tomb that he had hewn in the rock. Then he rolled a huge stone across the entrance to the tomb and departed.
Matthew 27: 57-60

Minister:
Lord,
grant us your compassion
that we may always provide for those in need.

*Virgin of all virgins blest!
Listen to my fond request:
Let me share your grief divine

Closing Prayer:

Minister:
Lord Jesus Christ,
your passion and death is the sacrifice that unites earth and heaven
and reconciles all people to you.
May we who have faithfully reflected on these mysteries
follow in your steps and so come to share your glory in heaven
where you live and reign with the Father and the Holy Spirit
one God, for ever and ever.

All:
Amen.

Scripture excerpts are taken from the New American Bible with Revised New Testament Copyright © 1986, 1970 Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc., Washington, DC. Used with permission. All rights reserved. Permission is hereby granted to reproduce these excerpts in free distribution of these stations.

How Can this Day be Good?

Detail of painting, Tissot

Good Friday.
High Holy Day.
The Passion of Christ.
Via Dolorosa.
Crucifixion.
Utter sorrow.
Fasting.
Veneration of the Cross.
Empty tabernacles.
Hungry, tired, hard, sad.

Really, horror.

Nikolaï Gay (1831-1894)

Unfathomable.
An unspeakable, truly, tough day.
Good, yes, but the hardest most unspeakable kind of good.

A mystery of good.

Painting by Tissot, "What Christ saw from the Cross"

But yes, glorious good; if unseen as such then, and sometimes now.
We wait.
*Reposted from several years ago*

A Different Night

"Why is this night different from any other night?"

It is Holy Thursday.
The first day of the Triduum.
It's also known as Maundy Thursday
But, no matter the term used, it's a high holy day, and it's one of the ones that is rich and complex and beautiful and difficult all at the same time.

(And, as an aside, everyone I know is kind of suffering all sorts of larger and smaller slings and arrows this week, escalating today.  Right.  Exactly. I guess that's how we know it's Holy Week and we get to participate in our own mini-wimpy-passion....because "we can't handle the truth" {to paraphrase Jack} of the real experience.  Just saying.....)

Sadao Watanabe print

Tonight the Mass remembers that special Passover supper, the last supper.  This is the supper of the institution of the Eucharist.  The disciples didn't even really realize what was going on...how typical, then, and now.  But, oh the beauty of it all.

  painting by Juan De (Vicente) Juanes (Masip).

So too, this night, Christ washed their feet, showing them how to be the servant of servants that they would be called to be...that we are called to be.  How often do I forget that one? Daily, how many times a day is the better question.

Sigh.  This is such a complex layered night.  I can't begin to do it justice.  The emotions range all over the map: from the quiet humbling of the washing of the feet, to the beauty of the institution of the eucharist, to the stripping of the altar and processing out that brings me to blinking away the tears.....It's a rigorous beautiful piercing night. For me, this night does begin the vigil...the vigil that doesn't end until the close of Saturday night's vigil Mass (finishing Sunday).   

"Why is this night different from any other night?"  
This is one of the Passover questions.  So too, it is our question, mine.
And these three days ahead, I get to ponder it and pray over it and grow my heart bigger to answer it well, or try.

There is also a long tradition of a late Holy Thursday night service, called Tenebrea that means, literally, "shadows" or "darkness."  This service is one of the hardest and most beautiful.  It starts in light and over the course of the service moves to darkness....because these are the three days of darkness and the greatest of suffering.  It ends with a cacophony of clapping wood.  It jangles and disturbs me deep inside, as it should, as it's meant to.  The Sisters of Carmel explain it well, go read the whole thing here, but below is a snip from it:

 

There is placed in the sanctuary, near the altar, a large triangular candlestick holding fifteen candles. At the end of each psalm or canticle, one of these fifteen candles is extinguished, but the one which is placed at the top of the triangle is left lighted. During the singing of the Benedictus (the Canticle of Zachary at the end of Lauds), six other candles on the altar are also put out. Then the master of ceremonies takes the lighted candle from the triangle and holds it upon the altar while the choir repeats the antiphon after the canticle, after which she hides it behind the altar during the recitation of the Christus antiphon and final prayer. As soon as this prayer is finished, a noise is made with the seats of the stalls in the choir, which continues until the candle is brought from behind the altar, and shows, by its light, that the Office of Tenebrae is over.

Wishing you a mindful and Blessed Triduum.

Almost Wordless Wednesday

Andy Warhol, Crosses, Giclee print, 1981-82

Even modern artists, under their oh so clever hip society cap, 

might surprise us and ponder the call of this season.
 

We are marching toward Jerusalem: Wednesday, Holy Week.

for more Wordless Wednesday, go here.

e-GADS! More thoughts on ebooks and some useful information, too.

If you're a writer, editor, agent, publisher, book designer, bookseller, book distributor, etc., and not completely out of touch with reality, you've been thinking and reading a lot about ebooks lately. And if you are anything like me, you're still trying to sort out the whole thing, figure out what the hell it all means to you now and what it's going to mean to you in the future. I've been reading pretty much everything I can get my hands on about this brave, scary, fascinating, disruptive, opportunity-laden (take your pick) new world.

eBooks are the future whether you like it or not. Sales of paper and ink books are going to continue to decline in the future - though probably never entirely go away. And eBooks are going to become the dominant form of book publishing.

A friend of mine who is a designer and marketing person who has recently been laid off from a long time job in the music industry asked me for some information on e-publishing. She is more interested in the technical side of things than the author's point of view. I sent her a long email filled with links to articles and websites that I hoped might be useful to her. If you've been keeping up with developments like I have, most of what follows will probably be familiar to you. If not, maybe some of it will be useful to you, too.

Everything in red or blue is a link.

ISSUES FROM THE AUTHOR'S PERSPECTIVE

The dialog that has had the publishing world all ababble over the past few weeks is the one on Joe Konrath's blog between him and Barry Eisler - who recently turned down a half million dollar contract offer (for two books) to self-publish ebooks. If you haven't read it, you should. Click on this paragraph to do so.

Nathan Bransford has some interesting points to make regarding some of what's brought up in the Konrath-Eisler conversation. Click on this paragraph to read that.

The Shatzkin Files also has a lot of interest to say regarding the conversation.

If you aren't a member of the Author's Guild, you should be. The Guild's Fall 2010 / Winter 2011 Bulletin has numerous articles on e-publishing that are all interesting and/or useful to authors. Unfortunately the Bulletin doesn't seem to be available to link to. So this paragraph will simply lead you to the Guild's site where you can join up and get your own copy.

THINGS A WRITER NEEDS TO TAKE INTO ACCOUNT

Editing & Proofreading - This should go without saying. Don't edit yourself. You're bad at it. I don't care who you are. Get someone else to edit your book. Then get another someone else who is a grammar nerd to copyedit your book. Then you, and hopefully at least one other - two would be better - people need to proofread the book before it gets turned into a file for uploading.

Book Formatting (as opposed to file formatting for upload) - A lot goes into making a book readable: font style and sizes, title page, copyright, edition and ISBN information page, table of contents, acknowledgments, chapter headings and styles, paragraph styles, page numbers, etc. Traditionally, your publisher does all that for you. If you are e-publishing a book yourself, you have to do all that for yourself, or find someone who knows what they're doing to do it for you. Sure, you can e-pub a Word or PDF manuscript file, and just as surely it isn't going to look very good if you do. I don't have any links for you here, you'll have to do some research to find people or companies who will do this for you if you can't do it for yourself.

Covers - Chances are, you're going to need new, attractive, attention-grabbing covers. If you've gotten the rights back to your backlist - like I have - most likely you don't have the right to use the same covers the books were originally published with. If you're publishing a new book, it needs a good cover. Again, no links here, find someone who is good to do them for you.

ISBNs - Every new edition of your book, other than those you e-publish to sell on Amazon, will need a new ISBN. Barnes & Noble requires a different ISBN than the one you use for other ebooks - such as those you might publish on Lulu or Smashwords, with iBooks or for the SONY e-reader. You can buy them a lot cheaper in lots of 10. You can buy them from the website you will get to by clicking on this paragraph.

Copyright Registration - It isn't required to register your copyright, publication itself creates a copyright, but if legal questions ever do arise, a registered copyright can be helpful. In traditional publishing, the publisher should register the copyright for you. If you're e-publishing your own books, you should consider doing it for yourself. Once again, click on the paragraph to be taken to the site.

Library of Congress - You don't have to have your book in the Library of Congress, but hey, it can't hurt.

Paper & Ink - No matter what you do, some people are going to want traditional copies of your books. If you're e-publishing yourself, there are ways to have small print runs, or print-on-demand books printed and distributed. One of those is with Amazon's Create Space service.

Another is by finding an Espresso machine that you can use. In Los Angeles, Flintridge Books has an Espresso machine and you can contract book printing through them. (Go to the store and take a look at books printed on the machine first, though. While the quality is good, I don't think that it is yet quite up to the quality available from traditional printing methods.)

TECHNICAL ISSUES

Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Lulu and Smashwords all have software on their sites to help you publish and upload your ebooks to their sales sites. There is more that can go wrong in the process than they would like you to think there is. If you aren't completely sure of what you are doing in the way of formatting the files for upload, you should probably get someone to do it for you. That's what I did.

I recommend eBook Architects. I found them to be reliable, fast, reasonably priced and responsive to my questions and requests. There are plenty of other companies who provide the same service, though. You can google for them.

If you do want to do it yourself, or if you have someone else format the files for you and then you need to upload them, here are a variety of links that will come in handy:

Amazon's Digital Publishing Site.

Barnes & Noble's Digital Publishing Site.

Lulu - an online digital book seller, publisher and marketing company.

Smashwords - another online digital book seller, publisher and marketing company.

Mobipocket - the development site for .mobi files, which are what you upload to Amazon for sale for Kindles.

Lexcycle - sort of an FAQ for the creation of epub files for B&N, SONY, iBooks, etc.

Jedisaber - another FAQ with further information on the creation of ePub files.

Apple's support page for creating ePub files from Pages. (A word of warning, Apple not only pays lousier royalties (than the others) for books sold on its iBook site, but it is also the most finicky when it comes to formatting files for uploading to its site.)

That pretty much sums up what I have come across that seems of use to me so far. If you've come across anything else please let me know in the comments. This is certainly the biggest business issue for authors today and is going to continue to be for quite some time. The more we all know about it, the more likely we are going to be able to take advantage of opportunities and the less likely we will fall into traps.