Sunny

Another installment of the children's book musings in my head...

Penelope Rose and TANK have a little sister named Sunny.

“Sunny!” the front door banged open and Daddy’s briefcase thudded on the oak floor. Sunny giggled, dropped her dolly “Flower Girl” and ran with bouncing golden pig tails to Daddy who added creases to his pin striped work pants as he crouched to the ground with wide open arms.

Around TANK’s Lego metropolis, past Penelope’s homemade miniature doll house, through Scraps the floppy eared mutt who licked her face and met her half-way thinking the little one wanted to play with him, Sunny bolted as fast as her three-year-old legs would carry her toward her favorite man. She landed in Daddy’s lap and buried her face in his thigh as he patted her back and swooped her dangerously close to the entryway light fixture.

“Ready for lift off?” Daddy asked. Sunny’s shriek brought Penelope Rose and TANK to the scene. They always knew Daddy was home when they heard that sound.

“Hold on tight!” Daddy commanded. “Three, two, one,” he shouted with a deep voice that sounded like thunder. Then Daddy spun in tight, quick circles while Sunny wrapped both hands around his white work shirt collared neck. The centrifugal force made Sunny’s legs stick straight out as she screamed with equal amounts of terror and delight.

Mom took her time as she casually entered the hall from the kitchen. Of course the whole thing made her feel like she had just swallowed a whole strawberry sucker as her heart leapt to the back of her throat, but she pretended that her flying child and “free-spirited” husband were completely normal and didn’t bother her at all.

“How was your day, Sweetie?” She asked mid-spin, as if the sight before her eyes were a mere illusion.

“We’re going for round seven!” bellowed Daddy. The question from his wife went unanswered for the moment given the feat at hand.

“Sunny, can you see me?” asked TANK as he waved his arms like a monkey, crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue.

“I don’t think she can see anything,” Penelope answered for her sister. “She’s probably so dizzy that the whole room is just one fuzzy band of colors.”

“Honey, let’s stop there for tonight, eh?” Mommy pleaded with a slight twinge in her cheek.

She thought Sunny had begun to look the color of TANK’s tree frog Ole’ Looker.

But Daddy didn’t head Mommy’s caution.

“Oh no, Baby! We’re going for a record tonight! Round Eight!” Daddy roared. Sunny squeezed her eyes shut and squealed to a decibel hitherto unknown in the King house.

“Round nine! Here we go!” Daddy’s hair brushed his eyelashes and two sweat beads formed on his focused brow. His eyes foretold imminent victory as they reflected the sunset which streamed through the still open door.

“Round ten!” He boomed. Scraps’ whole body quivered with excitement as his black ear flopped over his left eye and his right white ear stood pointed.

“We did it!” Daddy trumpeted. He whisked Sunny to the ground and jumped up on the hall bench. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” he announced, “A new record has been set in the King household. Sunny is the first intrepid flyer to ever make it at the tender age of three years and two weeks old to round ten of Daddy Lift Off!”

Possible “intrepid” definitions flashed for nanoseconds through TANK’s brain before he cheered, “Don don don, don da don da don!” TANK picked his drum sticks up off the bench next to Daddy’s foot to match the beat proclaimed from his lips.

Penelope found a purple silk ribbon from Sunny’s doll basket in the living room and danced it through the air as she led the parade. TANK marched next, banging one drum stick against his red toy block. Then, Daddy hoisted Sunny on his shoulders as Mommy slipped her arm under her husband’s and smiled with relief next to the heroes.

Scraps took up the rear hoping that perhaps the parade participants would throw him doggie treats like hard candies from floats to children on the street.

Attitude of Gratitude

Gratitude makes the world go around. And I certainly need to practice it now on the eve of yet another classroom clean out. Thank you God that I have a job. Thank you that it involves little children who fill me with joy.

Thank you also for:

-The anonymous elf that takes up the trash and recycling cans before I get home. 

-My dad's phone call. 

-A delightful six-year-old who said, "You better get repaired for that sugar girl!" (she meant to say "prepared"). "Especially after the extra blueberry tea cake," I recalled aloud. "And tea!" She reminded me (to which she added a couple tiny spoonfuls to the already microscopic cup). 

-A two-year-old who called me by half of my last name, which she screamed repeatedly until she found me during hide and seek. 

-Good men friends.

- Seven extra tubes of toothpaste from the dentist. I received them after I shared about first grade --as if teaching six and seven-year-olds would make me want to brush my teeth more? The dentist also said he could come to my classroom and give a lesson. 

-No cavities.

- The hamster I watch and his homemade Lego house.

Amen.

Mom Mobil

Damn it feels good to be a mama! Similar to "Damn it feels good to be a gangster?" 

(An explicit song not worth Googling...Nevertheless pop culture is redeemable :-) 

So I'm actually not a biological mama. But I am a spiritual mama and yesterday I got to ride a mom mobile--which would be similar to a Pope Mobile if the pope let the kids ride with him after he blessed them.

A mom mobile, like the Pope Mobile, is free of bullet proof protection... which makes it difficult if the mama is a gangster... That's the end of the similarities. 

I rode my friend's bike with a basket on the front and a kid seat on the back. This mama I know straps a kid on her stomach with one of those child carriers--perhaps of the gigantic cloth strip variety -- and a kid behind her in the bike seat as she rides next to her three other children on their wheeled "vehicles." This mom is about to go in for her sixth C-section on Monday. God bless her!

While riding the mom mobil, I was  grateful to see a "pear tree" and "raisins" (berries) with one of the little girls. We picked up a "pear" souvenir and smashed it with a screwdriver and hammer when we got back. There was some kind of weird gunk that came out on our hands. So now it looks like we either dyed Easter eggs an army green or botched a henna tattoo on our forefingers and thumbs.

The gunk mixed with the bicycle grease on my hands after an attempt to repair the new two wheeler rider's bike chain a couple times.

As I was about to put the bike away, I noticed the new two wheeler rider had tears in her eyes. She had just begun to learn to ride without training wheels but her chain was broken. I had taken each of the other children on an individual ride around the cul-de-sac near their house. But she had not sought a ride with me. It did not occur to me that she wanted one until her mom said maybe I could take her next time I came over.

Immediately I told the four-year-old I didn't know she wanted to go on a ride, and of course I would take her right away. Then began the balancing act of the kid seat on the back of the mom mobile. 

"I'm falling," she shouted as we wobbled down the driveway.

"Me too!" I replied. 

The mom just waved--a little too pregnant to be overly concerned.

Thankfully, we didn't topple over. I learned the way of the kid seat and we went around the circle three times and one extra for fun. Then we saw the "pears." We had to get one because her sister had one from the last ride. Well that was a trick! 

I swung one leg over the high bar that held the kid seat in place. Then I realized the kickstand would not withstand the weight of the leaning child-filled seat. So with one hand I held the bike up and with the other hand I stretched to pick up the "pear." Once I had it in my hand, I delivered it to the child and climbed back over the bar, which reminded me a bit of climbing a fence, and road back to their house.

This little girl reminded me of the importance of asking. God wants to give me the desires of my heart too; I just need to ask Him to grant the desires that He put there, and to show me in what ways He already fulfills these desires every day.

Unlike me with that little girl, He knows how much I want to go for a ride with Him. He sees my tears and understands the depth of them before I even voice my request.

On that note, Lord thank you for my house mobile ("mobil home"). I'd really like a stable place to stay soon if that's Your will. Thank you for your love.

Amen.

Jews and Gentiles: we all need love

If it takes a village to raise a child, it takes the whole Church to save my soul. I crave the love of one person--my God. But He loves me through so many people little by little back into life.

I had a conversation tonight with a man I love who thinks God is an imaginary friend, an invention to make people feel better in a world that suffers. He wants to know why Catholics suffer so much when they look for God and His "plans" for their lives. The conversation was hard because he voiced fears I've had in my own heart, and when I shared my struggles the ole ticker was exposed in the pain of vulnerability.

I told him all I know is that on my half birthday, six months before I turn 30, I rediscover daily who God is. I thought for years that His "plan" for me would fall out of the sky. I got frustrated when it didn't. I got sad when life wasn't perfect and suffering didn't disappear.

I've thought, "Aren't you supposed to do something about that, God? Did you really make me to experience happiness?"

When I told that man that my understanding of God changes day by day even now, he got annoyed and said, "You gave your entire life to this religion and still don't understand God, and now you're suffering more than ever. It doesn't make any sense!"

Yeah, fa real! I agreed. Ain't that the truth?

Yes, but it's only half of the truth. The greater Truth is a reality that slowly unraveles in my heart that God is with me; He loves me; He has a plan for goodness in my life.

My friend lamented about the rules and regulations of my Faith and I told him that there something deeper than that. He said isn't religion supposed to be simple? I said yes, it's supposed to be about a relationship with God.

That relationship is different for every person. Right now for me God's love is in simple moments of ordinary life. 

It is kittens in the basement that think they're so big they can go out and find their own milk crate in which to heap themselves. (It is also the bravery to take care of pets since I wholeheartedly believe that all animals should be in their natural habitats--outside).

God's love is new music and gum for my car ride. For free. From my mom who even after years of abandonment and stress in our relationship still loves me.

God's love is a friend from Texas who called me after I texted a couple people about the hard conversation I had with my faithless friend. It is his invitation to two-step when it's cold here and hot there. It is his jokes about cheese steaks and cat wrangling, and a bizarre commercial about the latter the only Texans could create.

'Cat Herders'

It is a text from another friend who said I am loved.

It is a picture of a California sunset sent by a friend who appreciates beauty in creation--and takes the time to share it with me. 

God's love is a picture my brother gave me that he designed. It says, "Walk with a smile"... and there's a crosswalk in the background. Because even a smile to a stranger can change a person's life. 

It is another friend who texted me and asked me if I found a place to live yet. She promised to continue to look and pray for me.

God's love blows my mind and expands my heart. Tiny little miracles. Little microscopic moments that I can't control and didn't plan shared with people all around me in every stage and walk of life.

I am Christian, but I still suffer. Christ died on the cross and He wants Christians to be like Him... But He also had the resurrection which overcame all sin and death...

I will have to finish reading John Paul II's letter on suffering to flesh out the theological understanding of Christian suffering.

In the meantime I will focus on the weird joy that surfaces in the midst of pain. 

This joy is un-American because it doesn't seem like I can work for it. And it's inexplicable because I don't have to use my college-educated brain to decipher it. Instead I have to let it seep into my heart-- that hard place I like to close up with padlocks, dragon- flanked drawbridges and cement fortress walls--and let it become the reality of who I am: a daughter of God filled with gifts and talents like every other human being but like no one else in the world with a mission, the desire to spread the fire of Christian joy in the natural habitats of human hearts.

To do that, I gotta get back on the "Thank You Jesus, Praise You Jesus" train because that positive thinking fosters gratitude and makes my heart more open to the tiny gifts that my Father lavishes on me every day -- through diverse places and faces, the one holy Catholic apostolic universal village Church.

Visions of summer

Elephant

Cicada

Exoskeleton 

Adventures of a Catholic nomad

Greetings, Mama! Thanks for the house last night when I was in between week- long lodgings!

Yikes! The heat monster invaded my "mobil home!" Hope the humidity doesn't get to my hair!

Old-fashioned Kenmore cookin up some rrr-elephants (reduce, reuse, recycle--elephants made from old clothes; it's a hipster's dream!)

Hello, providence job! 

In this chimney is a bird. Someday he will emerge; right now he's fluttering his wings.

Gratitude List

I am grateful that my mom got a new job. I'm grateful that we talked on the phone after three months.

I am grateful that my friend gave me her old shirts so I can make stuffed elephants out of them. 

I am grateful that I ate fish tacos and margaritas with friends. I am grateful for the party game  Boxers or Briefs. 

I am grateful that my friend tutored a boy whose babysitter made a gratitude list with him. 

I am grateful that I get to go to a pool party tomorrow. I'm grateful for creativity. 

I'm grateful for an awesome interview with a friend about why she is Catholic. I'm grateful that her witness to her first fiancé helped him reclaim his virginity. 

I am grateful that she consecrated him to the Sacred Heart every day that she dated him. I'm grateful for the miracle that Jesus took him home on the feast day of the Sacred Heart. I'm grateful for my friend's healing.

Praise The Lord for these miracles! Amen.

Penelope Rose and TANK

In case I write a children's book, these are some characters swimming in my mind...

Penelope Rose King

TANK: Theodore Andrew Nicholas King

Leopard-sized grasshoppers leaped and growled all over The Big Hill. A fireball of volcanic lava blazed in the sky in a slow descent toward earth. Penelope Rose sat safe in a hemlock’s shade to write a poem while TANK, dressed in his best camouflaged outfit, hunted the giant hopping beasts with his magnifying glass sword and smashed them with his rain boots.

“TANK, it’s almost time for lunch!” Penelope shouted after she checked her new red wristwatch. “We can’t be late!”

Penelope had gotten the watch after she promised her mother that she and TANK could go to the Big Hill themselves if they returned home on time for meals.

TANK was mid-swing. “You’re mine, Lightening Hopper!” He cried. But he missed.

“Come on, TANK!”

Penelope had already packed her faux leather backpack with her notebook, pencil, pencil sharpener and Indian woven blanket she used as a seat. The backpack had been a gift from her grandma Tish for her last birthday.

TANK aimed again. He put his swimming goggles over his eyes for a better view, reached up his arm and…

“TANK!” Penelope put her face between the grasshopper and her brother’s goggles and grabbed his hand. “We’re going home for lunch.”

“You’re hurting me!” TANK yelped as he wriggled free of his sister’s grasp and grabbed his hermit crab cage. Inside the cage was Ole’ Looker, a one-eyed green tree frog that he found on the family's last camping trip to Pennsylvania’s Pocono Mountains.

TANK swung the cage as he walked, which caused Ole’ Looker to slide back and forth like the pirate ship ride at the seashore amusement park.

“I hope your frog doesn’t throw up!” shouted Penelope and she tried to keep up with her little brother.

TANK opened the cage, held the frog in his hand instead and said, “Race ya!”

He didn’t wait for his sister to respond as he ran all the way home.

Imaginary Football Throwback

It was a brisk autumn day a few years ago when I took the Pre-K children out for morning recess. Colored leaved flew through the chilly air – alongside the imaginary footballs.

I was reminded of this story last night when a friend told another friend that she was recently hired at my school to teach Pre-K (I now teach first grade). The other friend joked that she could ride down the slide with her kids. Well…that’s not really possible given that the school’s “play equipment” is a parking lot.

So, it was fall and football was in season. The children had tired of chasing leaves and each other and they gave me the “I’m bored/cold/miserable” eyes like it was time to go back inside. No way.

We needed at least 10 more minutes of fresh air and energy release time. (Too little of this and the teacher and her students go crazy).

At that very point of near gloom, the Holy Spirit inspired an invention: the pretend football. The boys spread out and I threw it to one. He “caught” it and scored a touchdown. Praise the Lord for this miraculously simple game!

It was a little difficult at times to discover who actually held the ball, so at one point I might have had as many as six balls out there. The girls had joined as well.

I almost spoiled the game when one child whined, “So-and-so’s not giving me the ball!”

My lip was clenched in humorous self- control between my teeth…“Oh, no?” Hmm, that’s strange….I can’t even SEE the ball!

Another ball was tossed into the game and I went to talk with a prospective parent who had casually observed the whole encounter.

She was actually mid-discernment and wondered if she should send her child to our school; I would have been his teacher.

I joyfully greeted her with windblown hair, rosy cheeks, and hands dirty from playing “football.”

“Do you have any questions for me,” I asked.

“Actually I do,” she replied. “Do you ever play with real balls?”

I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I might have mentioned that if she donated some, we’d happily play with them…

Unfortunately that child never joined our class…which is a pity because we could really have used a seventh wide receiver. (Apparently, the maximum allowed on the field is five?)

Today's Plates

FXF: Father, explain forgiveness.

JLS: Jesus loves sinners.

The license plate Truth.

Waterslide

I woke up this morning and God gave me a miracle. Wisdom to start the day :)

Then I went to Mass and school, and a woman there said I could stay at her house for the next two weeks if I take care of her cats. Another place to stay until I find permanent housing. Miracle.

In the afternoon, I swam laps (another no impact exercise) and went down a water slide--with children-- for free. I told the woman who invited me that it was a miracle. She said, "Let us be your miracle again on Thursday. The kids like to stay at the pool longer when you're here."

People can be miracles for each other. Amazing.

At night, I got to go to a concert (the musician's name is Joe--because St. Joseph keeps showing up during this novena) and have dinner with a friend who shared a story about God's miracles in her life--she learned that she can be vulnerable --and it's the ticket to love-- through the cross. More miracles. And tomorrow I get to meet a newborn. Incredible.

I'm little bit homeless, and God loves me up when I'm a little bit poor.
Amen. Thank you, Jesus.

I Believe in Miracles

"We are miracles. You are a miracle. Your spouse is a miracle. Your children are miracles. The priest is a miracle. 'There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle,'" an Irish priest in Rome personalized Albert Einstein’s quote.

“If we look with the eyes of our hearts, not human eyes, we see miracles all around us,” he added.

Today I held a baby. I went to an early Mass. I had a conversation with a philosopher who stopped mid-sentence to behold a majestic view of sunshine on grass. I rode a friend’s bike; she doesn’t even know I can’t do weight bearing exercise. I went to adoration.

I saw a friend weed her garden, and she invited me to visit. We sat on her front porch which has a cross on one side and a Barrel of Monkeys monkey hanging from the light on the other side. She gave me water after my bike ride and shared ideas for new growth at our school. 

Her son came out during our visit and I asked him about the monkey on the light.

His mom asked, "Did you put that up there because monkeys are favorite animal?"

"Monkeys aren't my favorite animal!" He replied.

"What's your favorite animal now?"

"Platypuses. They have venom on the claws. Actually, it's not venom; it's poison." 

(Apparently male platypuses have a spurs on their back limbs that excrete venom throughout mating season.)

I saw one of my former students all grown-up and ready for second grade. I got an email from a friend who had a baby.

Another friend invited me to an impromptu Bible study, and there was peach and blueberry cobbler with ice cream. I asked a friend if he liked being Catholic yesterday and his roommate today said that conversation impacted his life.

I saw a statue of St. Joseph between two bushes. I realized that I watched my brother referee basketball at St. Joseph’s school this weekend, and that St. Joseph is with me in the midst of my novena to him for housing. 

I asked a friend, “Do you think St. Joseph will find me a place to live?”

She responded, “He found a place for Mary to have Jesus didn't he?”

Her confidence amused and astounded me.

  

The priest in Rome continued with his homily at the Church of the Holy Rosary…

“Jesus suffered and died. That was the greatest miracle….The apostles were afraid the same thing would happen to them. Jesus told them to go to the Upper Room and wait for the Holy Spirit to come. Then he said, ‘Get to work, teach them everything I’ve commanded you and know that I am with you until the end of time.’ He gave them new vitality, a new attitude.

"I am with you..." This new vitality so filled the Apostles that they were crucified like Jesus, and like the martyrs in the Middle East.

“Jesus is not dead! He’s alive, risen!” emphasized the priest. “The Church was a very small nucleus, not well educated and it spread out in every country worldwide. Great leaders tried to wipe out Christianity, but couldn’t because the Holy Trinity was indwelling in people’s hearts.

“We’re all in need of spiritual renewal,” the priest added. Then, the 80-something-year-old man shared, “I hope to learn something to deepen my Faith [on this pilgrimage]. We need stories of encouragement from each other.”

God, You work miracles in my life every time You remind me to see little encounters with people or created things with gratitude and joy. 

Thank you for that priest and for the vessels of love you put in my life today who encourage me and challenge me to become a whole person, to find deeper meaning in suffering and even joy in the midst of it.

Two Great Songs

Hillsong United Oceans (Where Feet May Fail)

Kim Walker Smith--Holy Spirit You Are Welcome Here

Vessels of Love

My time at the farm ended with a kayak adventure and now I'm officially a couch surfer...well, bed surfer (thank God!).

I have full confidence that St. Joseph will find me a more permanent place soon. (If you read this blog, please pray a novena with me :) http://www.ewtn.com/devotionals/novena/joseph.htm

Goodbye, little farm chapel!

In the meantime, God continues to use people as vessels to show me His personal love.

Tonight I visited a friend from whom I rented a room when I first moved to this city six years ago. God brought me back to the beginning. (God also brought me back to the last room I rented before I went to Canada -- which is where I will sleep this week!).

Now, a Chinese student stays in my first old room and because of the language barrier, she jumped up and down to share how excited she was that I had painted three walls in that room yellow and one cobalt blue. Her laughter was contagious. I had no idea the recycled paint from my parents' house would bring another person so much joy!

My friend and I encouraged each other in drafting and writing; she said it's impossible for a Christian to be bored!

She also shared her love of Jesus in the Eucharist -- a new bastion of hope for her since she cut ties with her fiance two days ago. My friend stayed true to her values of openness to life --contrary to her fiance's choice-- despite familial pressure to get married because she's almost 40. She is so happy that she made a decision that leaves her more whole.

It's been years since I visited her house and the kitchen plants are like trees! The whole windowsill is covered with geraniums, philodendron, an Indian rubber tree, and others with huge stalks and leaves that creep up the sides of the windows. To me, they are a metaphor for the spiritual growth in my friend's life. She gave up the man she loved because she loves God more.

My friend believes that God has a plan. She showed me through her witness that God' plan isn't easy --it requires everything. But it's worth it.

God also showed me this reality through the man who kayaked with me.

This man will join a religious order in September. His dad invited him to a retreat in college where he first experienced the reality of Christ in Adoration. A few years later, his dad died of cancer.

My friend mentioned that he went through a period of anger (I don't know if it was related to his father's death), but he also shared that his dad provided the impetus for his conversion--Jesus' real presence in the Eucharist, a real God who loves His people. When my friend's dad died, he realized that death is real; when he discovered the fullness of Christ, he saw that the immoral lifestyle he was living was empty.

At that retreat, my friend heard a priest give a talk about a man in Africa: a blind leper with no limbs, who couldn't stop exclaiming how much Jesus loved him. The man offered to sing for the priest and the priest played a beautiful recording of that song at the retreat.

My friend cried. He saw a joy that he didn't have, but wanted. Later, my friend saw Christ in a poor child's face when he went on a mission trip and knew he was called to give his life to show Christ to broken people.

When we went kayaking that morning, I saw that God put people in my life to be vessels of His love. Our oars made ripples in the dark pre-dawn waters as we waited for the sun to rise. And I thought that each ring that appeared from the dip of our oars was a circle of unrepeatable wonder.

We were shrouded in darkness, but slowly, shade by shade, story by story, experience by experience,  we paddled against the current into the light.

The sun wasn't visible through the clouds, but it was still there; nothing could deny the light.

And my friend reminded me of the Psalm 119: 105, "Your word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path." He said my life is not about what I do, or the stress of discovering my vocation, but rather, closeness to God.

Later that day I read a quote from St. John Paul II's play Radiation of Fatherhood, "And in the end...everything else will turn out to be unimportant, and inessential except for this: father, child and love."

John Paul lived that in his heart. He was a vessel of love too. He demonstrated that simplicity, order and peace in one heart, like a placid lake, can impact the whole world because when a person is empty and calm he can reflect out Christ.

Jesus loves you