Jesus Take The Wheel

I’ve just returned from a last minute trip to Texas with my parents.  The reason for the trip was to assist them by driving one car behind them while they drove our old Mercedes Benz to Texas to live forever. My dad wanted our unused 1984 vehicle…300,000 miles and all.  We were afraid that the Mercedes would not make the trip, so I agreed to follow along just to be safe.  Old and cranky, it made the 3 day trip without skipping a beat.

Three days on the road with my parents brought back some good memories of traveling with them when I was younger. We drove everywhere in a big gold 1968 Cadillac that had no air-conditioning, was a smooth and nauseating ride, where my brother and I could stretch out on the backseat and never touch one another. When we took those long, hot trips to visit relatives or friends…you can bet that mom and dad were going to pull out the ol’ rosary for some much needed prayer time.  My brother and I were held captive in the back seat, forced to pray the rosary whether we wanted to or not.  My mother would start, “Hail Mary, Full of grace the lord is with thee, blessed are you among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus”  my dad, brother and I would sleepily respond.  This was a ritual of travel for us, a prayer that was a chore to me as a child…I didn’t “get” it.

Today, when my parents come to visit, they always make time to stop in Irondale, Alabama where EWTN hosts its global Catholic Radio Programming. There is a small chapel there that holds the Blessed Sacrament.  This Chapel is televised throughout the world through EWTN and offers Christians live streaming to pray in front of it. 

Predictably, my mom and dad entered the chapel as they had many trips before, took their seats (Mom in the front pew, Dad in the pew behind) where mom pulled out the rosary.  They began quietly praying. I sat behind them, distracted, watching them pray--ever faithfully.  They had gotten so good at it, their rhythm and steadiness struck me. That is what happens after 53 years of praying together.   I got it though, I saw the continuity of what they were doing…how their prayers sustained us, brought the family together over the years, allowed grace to penetrate when God seemed far away.  It reminded me of the saying of how “God does not want us to be perfect, just faithful”.   They have most certainly been faithful.

It rings true of what we do with the youth of our parish each week.  Realistically, many don’t want to come to youth group sessions, while others do, and some are lukewarm…like me in the back of that Cadillac.  But the fruits of our faithfulness will be harvested over time.  Most of us will never know the fruits, but the kids will “get it”…eventually.  And something you said or did will resonate and make a difference.  Thanks for being faithful!

Stories of Strength to learn from

This week I was reminded how strong human beings are, when the grace of God is allowed to move in their lives. 

An older gentleman that I have known well for about 10 years recently shared a story with me about his life as a young man.  The story was a painful one …filled with rejection, sadness, death, depression and loneliness. To hear the story, you would think that no human could overcome it; it was just that sad.  To know this man, you would have never guessed the pain he has endured all these years.  He is successful, hardworking, creative, respected and loved by many.  He goes about his work in a quiet, unassuming way, never making any waves and gently doing what he does best.  He has dedicated his life to bringing the beauty of God to people every day and does it without much fanfare or thanks.  I was shocked at the deep, deep, anguish of his story, but marveled more at how he overcame the darkness and found his way through to the light.  While his life is not easy, it is clear in knowing this man that he knows the heart and grace of God well.  He has lived it and has been touched by it. 

My mother called me this week to let me know that a neighbor of hers was on her last days of life. Her name is Peg. Breast Cancer had gotten the best of Peg and my mother was her only source of life outside of chemo.  I did not know Peg personally, but knew that my mother had taken Peg “under her wing” when she found out how sick she was.  Peg had no husband, but four kids who wanted little to do with her; they had their own “issues”.  It was another sad story.  For the last two years, my mom had been driving Peg to the beauty shop, taking her to lunch, sitting at the hospital with her, going grocery shopping for her and (being a breast cancer survivor herself) gave her words and prayers of hope to go on.   And while my mom did not “know her well” she freely gave her time to make Peg’s last year of life bearable.  Peg’s daughter was the only one who regularly came to check on her mother, but could not stand to see her in such a state, so my mom would send her home and sit with Peg.  Yesterday, on what may have been Peg’s last day on this earth, her sons reluctantly came to say their goodbyes…they were outwardly indifferent to their mom’s plight but still, my mom would patiently talk with Peg’s kids and give them words of love and support.  “Mom ”, I said, “How can you just sit there and watch Peg die?  How can you deal with all the dysfunction of Peg’s kids and stand so strong?”  My mom in all her wisdom said, “This is what I do.  I am just called to do this for those who are in need. I plan to be there when God takes Peg home, Georgie…how could I not?”  

I feel like such a lightweight compared to people like this, but at the same time I know that God is teaching me a lesson through their stories. It is how I live my life after knowing such stories that is important. That when times are dark, and those days will surely come, the grace of God will give me strength to make it through.

 I have proof.

Henry's Happy Halloween!

TMI?

Eight year old Gus was handed a full diaper, compliments of his brother, Henry.  It was chilly outside so when Gus reached to throw the diaper away for his dad, he exclaimed, "Wow!  This would make a great hand warmer!"

A Tale of Two Birthdays

There is nothing more bittersweet than a child's birthday.

We celebrated two birthdays in September:  Rebecca and Henry.  My firstborn child, Rebecca, turned a happy 17 as we celebrated with a surprise party at the local Pizza Hut.  Over 20 of her friends met me at the restaurant and at the appropriate time, ducked under tables and chairs so that she would not see them as she walked into the place.  She walked through the door, completely expecting a quiet family dinner of pizza and soda, but instead found all her friends jumping out of their hiding places yelling, "Surprise!"  We ate over 12 pizzas, countless sodas, and two birthday cakes.

Later in the evening, Rebecca came over to me and said, "Mom, they all came out for me?"  I replied that she was so blessed to have so many good friends who love her...including her chaotic and loud family.  Happy Birthday Becca!

And then there is King Henry who turned three.  He is a man of simple tastes and asked for the same cake he had when he turned two:  "Da Hamburgur Cake".  I think the other kids get more delight in the cake than Henry.  They marvel at how much it looks like a Hamburger.  Personally, it grosses me out.  I mean, here you have a cake that looks like a real hamburger, but when you take a bite out of it, it is sweet!  Weird.

We celebrated Henry's birthday as a family.  My plans were to go to Bullwinkles (which is essentially, a more classy Chuck e Cheese's)...but when we arrived, it has closed.  Boo.  But you know, when you are three, you have no idea the fun you missed!  So we decided to go down the road to the Olive Garden. Henry could have cared less where he went, he just wanted his hamburger cake to go with him.

We pulled out one of his presents at the restaurant and Henry was delighted to play with it the entire dinner.  Good for us, good for him.  We ate a relatively normal dinner with minimal interruption and Henry ate nothing, but played with his new hot wheels garage.  After dinner, we pulled out our hamburger cake, and well, every head turned in the restaurant.  They were amazed, or horrified...I was not sure really.  Let's just say the cake had a rough trip over after Nick shoved the cake under the chair. It was kind of smushed, but I did my best to fix it.  Henry didn't care.  He blew out his candles and ate his cake.

Three is gonna' be great for my little guy...Happy Birthday King Henry!

Rescue Me!

I am one of those girls that likes to be rescued and I am not ashamed to admit it.   I enjoy being rescued from uncomfortable situations that I cannot fix and some that I can.  I like it when men in my life come to my rescue out of chivalry or love.  I am NOT ashamed to admit it; it was just how I was raised.  I blame it all on my father.  As a youth, anytime I asked for his assistance, he was there.  When I was sick at college, he would stop everything, get in the car and drive two hours to bring me home.  If I had a flat tire, my dad would find a way to me...no matter the location.  He made me feel special because he never complained.  He did it for love; and I knew it and loved him for it.  He made me feel safe and wanted.

There were two instances this week in which I needed to be rescued.  Nothing big mind you, but problematic none the less. The first instance was in the parking lot of a bagel place I frequent regularly. Not thinking, I kept the air conditioner in my car running which in turn drained the battery of any power.  Sure enough, I turned the ignition and heard the familiar "clicking' that indicates that my battery was dead.  Drat!  My husband was out of town, so I immediately called up a few male friends who I knew would know what do do.  No one was home so I was out of luck.  Sadly, I started to panic and wanted to cry.  I wanted my dad and while he lives over 1000 miles away, I knew that if I called him he would COME. But I knew that was probably an unrealistic solution so I thought of a viable Plan B.

So I called a local tire place located just down the street and asked if there was anyone there who could come to the bagel place and give my car a jump.  Sure enough, a young boy no older than 20 years old offered to come down and help.  He arrived with the power box in hand and hooked it up to my car, but it did not work.  He offered to call AAA for me, but I was not sure how long that would take so I asked him if he would consider bringing back jumper cables to jump my car the old fashioned way.  I knew he was busy and had many more things to get done, but he nodded his head and off he went to get cables.  After about 10 minutes I was on my way; my car all juiced up.  I offered the young man $20 for his trouble but he would not accept it.  Rescued!

The second instance is gross, I assure you.  It involves a certain insect that, I am sure, line the walls of Hell:  Roaches.  I hate them.  They scare me more than any other creature on this planet partly because they are ugly and partly because they show up when you least expect them.  Such was the case earlier in the week when my son Nick mentioned that he saw a big roach next to my lower kitchen cabinets.  I dreaded walking near the part of the kitchen where the devil's favorite insect might be.  The next day, I had forgotten all about the roach and started making dinner.  Sure enough, the little demon showed it's tenticles. It's long brown body scurried past my foot and I started screaming as if my arm was cut off and bleeding all over the floor! Henry thought the whole show was hilarious and mimicked my squeals.  But my husband, Chris, instantly knew what was going on.  He knows that certain pitch...the cockroach scream.... where he will, no doubt, be called on to save his wife.

"Chris, I saw a roach! Get it!"   Chris calmly looked around the cabinets and could not find evidence of any devil roach.  He went into the garage to get some insect poison, returned to the kitchen and sprayed the places where he thought it might go.

Not two hours later, I open up the cabinet under the sink, jumped back about three feet and saw IT. Devil cockroach was there..on it's back..its little legs squirming in the air, but basically dead.  YUCK!  My hero scooped the thing up in a napkin and disposed of it!  Rescued and loved!

Hug your hero today and let him know that he does not have to rescue a damsel from a fire-breathing dragon any longer.  But saving her from dead batteries and evil cockroaches...the modern dragons..is hugely appreciated!

Gus's new hobby

Me: Gus, why are you going through my purse?

Gus: 'Cuz it is like a 'wonderland'.

Being 10

Jack has turned 10 today.  There was not much fanfare since he had to share the day with his sister's first day of school as a senior in high school, his brothers first day as an 8th grader and the regular chaos that normally ensues on the first day of school.  Poor Jack. His birthday always comes during one of the busiest times of the year:  the beginning of school.

As usual, we have to postpone Jack's party until the weekend when we will take Jack and a few of his best buds to the cabin for a few days of swimming, boating, making smores and riding the ever-popular go-kart.

But because of the timing of Jack's  birthday, I always try harder to make his birthday DAY special.  I try to find gifts that he will especially like, a cake that is his favorite flavor; a dinner that makes him smile....mostly because I feel guilty that he may feel overlooked.  But Jack is always content and happy with what his mom and dad provide.  I see it in his smile and his sweet nature.  But I always have that nagging feeling that I fell short.  Very short.  Maybe there was not enough attention paid to the day Jack graced our lives forever.

I forget that Jack is probably one of the most content children in the family...much of it due to the fact that he knows how to entertain himself in a family of extroverts.  He is very good at  reading, playing with friends and hanging with his brothers. He's a happy kid.

Later in the evening after presents, dinner and cake...Jack says to me much to my surprise, "It was the best  birthday ever!"

Well, it wasn't much hoopla, but we did mark the day with hugs and kisses in thanksgiving for our content child, Jack.  (John Christoper)  And it was apparently enough for him!

Happy Birthday Jack!

Sad Eyes

Henry: (pretending to cry) Mommy, my eyes are crwying.

My baby, all grown up

My baby. My first.

She's all grown up. And is a senior in high school. A SENIOR!

Just a few years ago, my days were long, exhausting days with my new baby, new husband, new life, new world. And the days went by very, very slowly. Today, as I look at this picture of my first born, playing the life out of her trombone; I reflect back to those early days when so many people would tell me how 'fast time flies' and that 'before you know it, she'll be off to college'. I remember patiently nodding my head at them in agreement; shifting my baby from one hip to the other, but inside thinking they were crazy. "Oh, they are just nostalgic for their younger days." I would think.

Well, they weren't crazy. Time does go faster as the kids get older, and 17 years later I am jolted to the core as I stare at a picture of my daughter fully grown, doing what she loves (band), with her back turned in the picture as if to tell me: "Mom, it's time for be to get ready to go. I'm ready to walk away from you and dad and enter the vast world."

I have one precious year left with my daughter at home and I plan to milk each and every minute of it. Every concert, every practice, every quiet moment I will relish because she's my #1 child...my guinea pig for all the other babies and a good one she was.

And the moment she does walk away from me...I'll be able to say that she gave me a life worth living, a new perspective, and wild and fun ride into what raising children all about. And that hopefully will get me through MY moment of nostalgia....when I see that mom with a baby on her hip..and I say, "before you know it, she'll be off to college."

Enjoy your children everyone...time DOES go by fast.

Becca's band friends come over....

Gus:(hiding behind the bookshelf) Mom, we're being INVADED!

Me: Really? By whom?

Gus: Teenagers!

Love = Reading to your sons!

Well, summer has been humming along over here at the Clemens house, and school begins the end of August (not that I'm counting or anything). It is getting to the point that I am desperately looking for projects or outings that the kids will enjoy and that I will not lose my mind planning. Oh, we've been to the museums, on walks, fishing, swimming, camp, hiking, baking bread, and on and on, but one of my favorite summer things we have done together is READ.

Jack and Gus are totally engrossed in the Percy Jackson book series which begins with the book, "The Lightning Thief". There are a total of 5 books in this series and each one is just as creative and adventure filled as the next. I find myself hurrying the boys to their baths and bed-time routine so that we can meet together in my King Size bed for our reading time. I so enjoy hearing my boys laugh out loud as I read the latest adventure. We even guess what will happen when the foreshadowing of an event occurs in the book. What fun!!

If you are an adult, go and get yourself the first book in the series and read it. You will enjoy it as much as the kids! It is such a pleasure to find a book series that brings all ages in our home together for quality time. Reading time is MY favorite summertime activity with the kids, and I don't even have to leave the house!

Stop, Look and Listen

At the parish where I work, we are in the midst of a very large building project that is changing the old church site into a newer, bigger, more modern place for more Christians to come and worship. The demand for more space is huge at our ever-growing parish and it a beautiful thing. God has blessed us with resources to continue to build his kingdom both physically and spiritually and I feel blessed to be a part of God's massive undertaking here in CH. It is an exciting place to be right now, an exciting place to work.

Because of all the construction equipment and workers on the site, the parish campus is very loud. Very. Even though I work inside temporary trailers, I can still hear the humming machinery outside and the beeping of equipment I could never begin to operate myself. Looking out the trailer window, the workers are very busy trying to meet construction deadlines and building requirements. They have much to accomplish before school begins in the Fall. They are doing a great job and working quickly and steadily to do the job right.

In the parish office we are working diligently and steadily to prepare for the Fall faith development (Sunday School) year. Every day we inch a bit closer to the moment where we welcome the 900 + youth and children through the doors of their classrooms to enlighten and teach the Catholic faith. We use the latest technology and social networks to get information out to parents, fast and efficient computers to communicate and search for religious resources. We have facebook groups, twitter updates, newsfeeds, e-newsletters and much more. The purpose of which is to help build His kingdom....yet ironically, it is hard to find the voice of God though it all. It is very loud; we are very busy.

The other day, I was walking through the construction zone over to the church. I am always happy to come into the church...a church that I know well, that is my home, that holds who I am within its walls. When I walked inside, it was quiet and peaceful and I felt comforted and content to be there. The loud world quickly disappeared and I was alone.

For me, it is slightly uncomfortable to be in the church alone. I feel the tug on my heart to go and spend more time with Jesus. It is when I am alone in the church that I can sense God calling me...most especially when I have passed the Blessed Sacrament chapel...I can hear God say, "Come, be with me". But more often than not, I think, "I'm busy God, doing your work...you must understand that I am busy..right? I must prepare for the faith development year."

But God always wins and I finally kneel before the Blessed Sacrament. All of my failings and flaws are placed before Him. As a youth minister of the church, a mom, a wife and friend... if I can't make time for God-the creator of who I am and what I do... then I am doing something wrong. This kind of communication with our Lord requires nothing fancy, nothing with instant news feeds or e-mails. It requires one on one time that only comes when I make it a priority.

As the world gets busier and adds more communication options, it's comforting to know that God does not require anything fancy to communicate, just time and an open heart.

Be still and know that I am God.

An 8 year old figures it out.

Gus: Mom, I've noticed that your life is all about TALKING!

Mission '09

Well, we are off to embark on a mission. A mission to reveal God's love to those less fortunate.

I am slightly embarrassed to mention that this is the first large group mission trip our church has ever taken with a group of youth. It had always been a dream of mine to start such a ministry, but I never had enough hands to get a project like this off the ground. As divine intervention would have it, a dear friend had the same desire for our youth and offered to help me organize what seemed like a mammoth task. We worked diligently for a year to get this project started...and after many months of planning we are finally embarking on the goal: A real-life mission trip for the youth of STM!

Oh, it's nothing glamorous or glitzy. We are not going anywhere far off, but we are going to help others who are in need.

We leave tomorrow at 9am to a location only 5 hours away. We are working with Group Work Camps and they will be giving us our community service projects when we arrive. The best part is that while there, we will be gathering with other Christian youth groups from different parts of the country and will be working side by side with them...learning serve from the heart.

When you have a bit of time, please pray for the youth of my parish, the chaperons and the many hands that we will be working with this week. Pray that we see God frequently in all that we do, and that we leave our mission better Christians and more understanding of the plight of our poor.

Playing with photo booth.

Admittedly, not very flattering, but very entertaining for the mom and kids.

Corpus Christi

Ave Verum Corpus

Hail, true Body born of the Virgin Mary;
truly you suffered,
impaled on the cross for the sins of the world.
From your pierced side flowed blood and water.
In my last agony,
grant me a foretaste of your presence.
O sweet Jesus
O Gracious Jesus,
son of Mary,
have mercy on me.
Tr. by Andrew Burnham, A Manual of Anglo-Catholic Devotion

Every good baby sleeps prepared for anything!

Gus's First Holy Communion

Sunday was a wonderful day for the family! It was Mother's Day and also the day my 4th child received his first Holy Communion. I must say that it was the best Mother's Day gift ever! The tears flowed as I watched my excited son approach Fr. John..hands extended and and full of expectation. Afterwards, Gus entered the pew and exclaimed, "Mom! Jesus tastes good!"

Yes, Gus, he most certainly does.

May we all remember the excitement of our first Holy Communion, now and until the end of our days.

American Papist: Not Your Average Catholic!: Photos: 300,000 printed signatures being shipped to Notre Dame

American Papist: Not Your Average Catholic!: Photos: 300,000 printed signatures being shipped to Notre Dame