Life is Pain, Highness.

Teaching is hard. Motherhood is hard. Residency life is hard.

How do you develop a shell while still remaining soft to the world? I'm still learning.

For as hard as intern year was (adjustment-wise), second year has been harder. Part of that has been the growing pains of our family. Part of that has been with our jobs. Part of that is the daily wear and tear of parenting + due diligence with therapy. The other part is laundry. WASH AND FOLD YOURSELF LAUNDRY.

I've had a few tough parent situations this school year - we just never saw eye to eye. I still don't quite understand why everything was perceived so singularly; I try really hard to be available and patient, so when something else happens... it hurts, a lot. I was crying on the couch when Will got home from another long shift. His last patient overdosed and was probably gone by the time the ambulance arrived. He ran a full code. Then, calling the family. There was a lot of grieving; doctors are not immune to that kind of pain, even if they seem unswayed. They have a job to do.

He told me I needed to close my computer, not reply, and move on. I did my job. My boss told me I was fine, so what was the point of re-hashing? Because I care, and I don't understand, and I love my job, and I love teaching my students, I cry. Will fills in the blanks: Do your job, learn from your mistakes, and move on - you're never going to make everyone happy.

The Man in Black said it best: "Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something." This doesn't mean we should relish our pain, or feel constant sorrow; but acknowledging it as reality, and pushing on, past the doubts and discouragements. Life is beautiful. I see it in Laura's cheesy grins, smelling fresh air, Grace calling out "mama!!" when I come downstairs, life with Will. Life is worth living. Not in spite of the pain, or even because of it, but with it, in communion. To know pain means to also know happiness, health, love and virtue.

As a Christian, especially one during this Lenten season, I can't help reflecting (begging God) and praying the Litany of Humility. 

**

O Jesus! meek and humble of heart, Hear me.

From the desire of being esteemed; deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being loved; deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being extolled; deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being honored; deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being praised; deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being preferred to others; deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being consulted; deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being approved; deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being humiliated; deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being despised; deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of suffering rebukes; deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being calumniated; deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being forgotten; deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being ridiculed; deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being wronged; deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being suspected; deliver me, Jesus.

That others may be loved more than I,

Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be esteemed more than I: Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it!

That, in the opinion of the world, others may increase and I may decrease: Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it!

That others may be chosen and I set aside: Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it!

That others may be praised and I unnoticed: Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it!

That others may be preferred to me in everything: Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it!

That others may become holier than I, provided that I may become as holy as I should: Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it!

How is the end of your Lent going? I'm looking forward to my last couple of classes, my in-laws arriving, finishing my grading, and spending part of spring break on vacation with my darling husband before Paschal Triduum with my in-laws and our daughters.

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Bed Rest for the Criminally Insane

Here she is... Miss America...

Soon after we came home from the hospital, I experienced the night all postpartum mothers dream of: crazy horrible nausea with a side of physical pain. I phoned the OB nurse the next day and was ordered on bed rest, with plenty of water, small meals and alternating Tylenol and Motrin.

At least the view is wonderful:

I also have regular visitors!

I am not a bed rest sort of person. Mine was very temporary compared to the weeks and months I know friends of mine have faced; but it certainly felt like a Lent-worthy sacrifice. It made me physically rely on others for help. This is something that drives me crazy.

It's not because I am ungrateful - quite the opposite. I do not know how I would have handled the last few weeks before, during and after Laura's birth without the help of my MIL. It is amazing having my Mom here now, till Saturday. 

I'm more about being interdependent, though - and bed rest made me dependent, like Laura.

Just a girl and her wubbanub.

For example, I had to explain how to make coffee, and how I like my coffee to be fixed -- and it made me think and contemplate how I live in a state of survival in many ways, with many opportunities for spontaneous fun as a family. No one fixes me coffee except Will; there is usually no one else around to help me besides Will. I was having to explain where things were and our weekly schedule; how Grace's sleep habits work, when and where therapy is, and with whom.

Or even, the humility of grandparents seeing Grace's old-new tricks for the first time. The amazement of how much she has progressed since they last saw her in December. The unanswerable questions of when and if she'll do this or that. I tend to brush off those questions and repeat my mantra: With God and Grace, all is possible.

Which, to bring us back around, is what I should give myself more of: the grace to heal. Permission to feel terrible and let someone take care of me.

The back pain isn't gone, and the stitches are there, and Laura sleeps all day so she can stare at me all night. And by stare, I mean make little crying noises into bigger crying noises until I acquiesce her request.

I want to cry sometimes too. I'm not sure if it's the hormones or the lack of sleep or all the grading that is waiting for me, and the power points I am currently staying up late to work on...

Dr. Optimist likes to remind me that life isn't so bad - in fact, we have a pretty great life. ((I know this, and I feel this.))

I also feel a kind of insecurity that everything is going to fall apart if I don't keep my fingers in every pie, and times like this help me gently remove those thoughts. What I am discovering in my early womanhood is that it is just as important to be honest with yourself and others when things are not okay: when you need help, when you're struggling, and when you must be dependent on others to help carry the load.

Never before has the character of Simon of Cyrene been more important to me: even Jesus had help carrying his cross. Just as Jesus was born a sweet baby, totally dependent on his parents, so we must turn to our own families and God the Father. Just as Jesus carried his cross and honestly asked his disciples, Can you drink from my cup? So we, too, must learn that love takes the form of work and giving and getting. Limitations are not weakness - they are an opportunity to invite more people to the opportunity to love one another more; to support one another in need.

And thus, a new leaf is turned, and I begin my last week of maternity leave - with me on partial bed rest, my mom here till Saturday, husband on night shift, and my girls around me.

I need more than I can voice, and so I echo St. Augustine's confession: "You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in you."

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The Gift James Foley Gave Me

When I went upstairs this morning to tell Will about the essay I had read, I hadn't expected to start crying again.

I cried the first time promptly after finishing the last two sentences:

"If nothing else, prayer was the glue that enabled my freedom, an inner freedom first and later the miracle of being released during a war in which the regime had no real incentive to free us. It didn’t make sense, but faith did."

I was on our bed with Grace, and she giggled as I briefly cried, finished changing her diaper, put her down for a nap, and went upstair to Will's office.

I announced to him that I finally knew what I would write about for my Ignitum Today post due on Friday: an essay by James Foley, the American journalist beheaded by ISIS, for his alma mater Marquette University. It was written in 2011, after he was released from captivity in Libya.

He wrote about the power of prayer. He wrote about saying the rosary in his cell: the 100 Hail Marys on his knuckles; an Our Father between every 10 Hail Marys; how praying the rosary, like his mother and grandmother would do, helped keep his mind clear.

He prayed out loud with his colleague, Clare: "It felt energizing to speak our weaknesses and hopes together, as if in a conversation with God, rather than silently and alone."

He wrote about his conversation with his mother, and how prayer penetrates hearts, minds, and across continents:

“I’ve been praying for you to know that I’m OK,” I said. “Haven’t you felt my prayers?”
“Oh, Jimmy, so many people are praying for you. All your friends... Your brother Michael loves you so much.” She started to cry. “The Turkish embassy is trying to see you and also Human Rights Watch. Did you see them?” I said I hadn’t.
“They’re having a prayer vigil for you at Marquette. Don’t you feel our prayers?” she asked.
“I do, Mom, I feel them,” and I thought about this for a second. Maybe it was others’ prayers strengthening me, keeping me afloat.

That vision of the community of saints -- I couldn't shake it from me -- and how one person's faith can ground reality into another person. I thought about saying prayers with Grace before bed, and night prayers with Will before going to sleep. I thought about how much I struggle with getting to daily mass, and the constant distractions posed to each of us in an attempt to dissuade us from praying more and more - to lessen our communication with God.

There is a violent, religious war going on in the world. People are attempting to shape the world in their own image - an image of what they imagine Heaven should be, and are instead creating Hell. People are being beheaded, killed, raped, starved, exiled, beaten and tortured.

I am at home, bemoaning the laundry that has piled up, and that I need to clean up the downstairs before our babysitter candidate comes over for her interview. I know the work I do is important - taking care of one's family and home is a noble duty. But I need to seek more solitude and joy from the act of praying and the love of Scripture. I read when I "have time" and pray "when I can" -- but they should be more ingrained in our life. They should have more priority seating. My God is worth glorifying, and my faith is worth strengthening.

James Foley - may the angels sing you home, and may God welcome you into Heaven. Thank you for your words. Thank you for your witness. May the Lord continue to bless your family, and may they find solace in your life, heart and faith. Thank you for reminding me that the freedom of religion is not only a legal protection, but the freedom to practice my faith in both public and private. The freedom, as Blessed John Paul II said, to do what we ought.

Cry Baby Cry

I am writing this as Grace sobs upstairs in her crib. She slept mostly well for nine months there, and after a month of being out of her crib, she is crying herself to sleep. Last night was so hard: blood-curdling screams. My MIL saved my sanity by helping take shifts with her, and I felt bad that Will woke up since he had an early morning.

She is sobbing louder.

There is nothing more heart-wrenching than your daughter crying, and all I want to do is hold her... but I am letting my husband and MIL take these shifts to help acclimate Grace to the fact that she cannot be comforted by her mother (or fed, for that matter) all the time. Vacation was a real treat for Grace, and reality holds no such charm.

Today was tough: crying, wanting to be held (or else), play time sometimes, books (boring) (unless I get to eat/rip them), PT (more crying), eating (acceptable), and finally, we walked around the neighborhood until Will got off his shift. She liked that as long as I kept pushing the stroller.

Ham Bone Baldwin

She also liked when Will came home.

It is hard to admit when you are not the best for your daughter at bedtime. That she loves me too much, that we are too close - which results in poor sleep for me and not for thee - and that growing up means learning, in the most loving way, how to self-soothe.

I just spent the past month self-soothing. I missed Will. I loved being home with my family, with my in-laws, on vacation in gorgeous Michigan - but I need Will. We are married. We are partners. Before vacation, he took care of Grace every morning and fixed me coffee. {Mornings are reeeeeally hard...} I made sure we had food in the house, kept things in a state of relative order and tidiness, and took care of the details. But mostly, we enjoyed each other's company. Life is so full together.

This past month, I cried too. Not as hard or as long as Grace, but for the same feelings of loneliness when you know warmth.

It is knowing that kind of love that we must meditate on the love God has for us - the way he holds though we may not feel it; the way he loves us so completely; the way he lets us learn to grow closer to him through suffering; the comfort he gives through the pain.

We are never alone. Will was a phone call/ text away (poor reception aside), I always had Grace nearby, and I was surrounded by family. Grace had her father and her grandmother to love her while she sobbed. And even tears can be prayers, if we center ourselves on love.

My baby is quiet now. My MIL came downstairs to say that she is sleeping, and so we continue to sleep train in an effort to return to a well-rested state. We are home again; we can rest from our travels. Will and I are together again; we rest in anticipation. And though there is much to wonder and pray over, in God I rest.

Grace's innocent tears of love and need are a good reminder to me to more readily go to God in my time of need and distress, and to take my tears to him. He holds us all in his love; he listens to us always, in our tears and in our joy.

10 Things To Do Before Having Kids

I stumbled on one of these gems of a list the other day - you know, the TEN ZILLION THINGS TO DO BEFORE YOU HAVE KIDS - and decided to make my own. My first boss out of college lamented to me and another co-worker one day how he and his wife were not able to do fun activities any more since the birth of their three kids. I didn't get it: my parents always had so much fun with us!

That's a pretty modern implication: after X life event, your life - as you know it - is over. Fun is dead.

Here are practical things to do before having kids so that life continues to feel fun and not dead-like.

10. Start a savings account.

Okay, boring. But having a bebe is much better when you're serious about money. They do cost money, but not too much, if you budget well. {Special circumstances withstanding.} Be diligent about putting aside 10-15 percent every month. While you're at it, write a budget too. Based on your income and current assets, this may change over six month periods, and learn how to handle money! This is possibly the single most important skill to have as a single person, married person, and parent person. Expenses pop up! Be prepared {and don't overthink it}.

9. Choose patience.

Patience is hard. Showing your child patience over anger is possibly the most sincere form of love. Showing patience to your spouse is equally rewarding. Behaviors build off each other! Start with the person who cuts you off in traffic!

8. Work on your prayer life and relationship with Christ.

There are few things that will bring you to your knees faster than having a child. Will and I began praying as a couple when we were engaged, and now we pray with each other and with Grace each night. I also pray on my own each day, for special intentions and strength to persevere.

Life with the hope of Christ gives me strength when times are tough, and gives me such a view of God's beauty. Prayer is a conversation with Christ - sometimes our talks are short; other times earnest; and, my favorite, is leisurely. The best way to pass on our faith to Grace and future littles is to show them my faith, explain our faith, and experience it with them. We must get to know Christ before we can debate him.

7. Work on how to disagree actively and calmly.

Not everyone is born with a calm disposition, but everyone is capable of having a reasonable disagreement - even if it means taking a break or going on a walk. Say "I'm sorry" and mean it. Value the feelings of the other person just as much as your own. This is especially important for children to witness - and to have their feelings validated too.

6. Know thyself.

The best way to parent is to become a parent unique to you. I'm not going to use cloth diapers just because other moms do. I'm not going to make my own baby food (I tried, sigh), and I'm going to indulge Grace by sleeping with her during nap time (currently the only way I can get her to sleep with all the traveling). Know what is good for your baby, and know what is good for you. Be the best parent version of you! (Not the mom you want to be!)

5. Explore new skills.

What I love about babies is how much they absorb from the environment around them, and how they are constantly learning. How encouraging to me! I am continuing to hone my culinary skills, but I am also loving learning more interior design theory, tennis, fishing, and yoga. I've thought about gardening, but let's not get too crazy here.

4. Buy a sense of humor

If you don't have one, that is. There are so many things with kids that can make you want to cry. But why cry when you can laugh? Life is fun, and so are kids. We can be a little less serious about annoyances and more serious about laughing at them.


3. Keep up a good relationship with your family and friends, and know boundaries.

A friend of mine recently told me I am a great "mom advocate" for Grace, and I was really touched by that. I'm a naturally timid person, and my husband has been my number one advocate. He helps me deal with personal frustrations and I help him keep in touch with loved ones. But most importantly, we have learned to prioritize our family above all. We've had to miss family get-togethers (sniff), and we've missed friends' weddings, but we did what was right for us, and that has helped me truly center in on doing what is right for Grace as well - not to make other people happy.

2. Read!

You must read to your child. Okay, now that we've agreed on that, you must keep reading too. It doesn't have to be deep: it needs to be what you like. I love murder mysteries, British lit, and Southern lit, with rhyming poetry thrown in there. (T.S. Eliot too!) I love the Little House on the Praire series (re-reading now), the Anne of Green Gables series, anything by Flannery O'Connor and Pope Benedict XVI, and essays.

Reading expands your mind. Reading keeps life interesting. Reading keeps your soul reaching upwards in the hidden worlds of good stories. Reading renews a sense of wonder found in childhood and often lost by the cement truck of reality.

1. Love yourself, be happy.

This is possibly the most important thing a person can do in life. We all struggle and we all hope to be better, and those can be turned for the good. The inecurities we face are not who we are: we are children of God; his beloved. We were made this way for a purpose - it is up for us to create fruit in our own gardens. Sometimes, that is being content in our single days. For me, I am still wrapping my head around my motherhood. I love Grace, and I love my work. But I don't love when I feel like I am not giving 110 percent to both.

But it's just not possible, for me, at this point. And I'm accepting that! This is my season of life, and I choose to be happy about it. I love myself because I am not my work.

One may not always feel happy, but we can always choose to be happy. This is the secret of life, in my book, and I hope to pass this on to my children.

**

The most important thing to do before having kids is to be open to them. Be open to the adventure life is with them. Be open to the hardships, and be open to the laughs. Life can be as boring as your imagine it, or it can brim with possibility. It really is up to you.

Sacred Heart, Change My Heart

Today is the Solemnity of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. The feast was requested in reparation for the ingratitude for the sacrifice that Christ made for us. This feast day also means we can eat meat today (Canon 1251), which is another reason to rejoice.

I have a special devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. The image of Jesus and his Sacred Heart was on my fridge during my childhood. In college, the Sacred Heart helped me discern marriage as my vocation in life. After college, I prayed to the Sacred Heart to let me lose my want of marriage and for me to bear fruit during my single period. By Christmas, I did. I was completely happy and content as a single person. As blessings befall, I met my to-be husband Will a week or so later.

I prayed a Sacred Heart novena before Will and I started dating: for Will to show initiative, and for me to be content in whatever happened in the course of our relationship. In those months leading up to our engagement, it was the first relationship I felt free to love and be loved; I also felt comfortable enough that, even though we loved each other, if it did not work out, I could have broken up with him with a knowing heart. We talked about it, even, as we talked towards marriage. It was Christ alone who put such peace in my heart.

The modern devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus was led by Sr. Marguerite Marie Alacoque, a French nun and mystic who lived from 1647 to 1690. She had visions of Christ and increased devotion to the Sacred Heart. If people keep this devotion, our Lord told Sr. Marguerite Marie, he promises 12 things:

1. I will give them all the graces necessary for their state of life.
2. I will give peace in their families.
3. I will console them in all their troubles.
4. I will be their refuge in life and especially in death.
5. I will abundantly bless all their undertakings.
6. Sinners shall find in my Heart the source and infinite ocean of mercy.
7. Tepid souls shall become fervent.
8. Fervent souls shall rise speedily to great perfection.
9. I will bless those places wherein the image of my Sacred Heart shall be exposed and venerated.
10. I will give to priests the power to touch the most hardened hearts.
11. Persons who propagate this devotion shall have their names eternally written in my Heart.
12. In the excess of the mercy of my Heart, I promise you that my all powerful love will grant to all those who will receive Communion on the First Fridays, for nine consecutive months, the grace of final repentance: they will not die in my displeasure, nor without receiving the sacraments; and my Heart will be their secure refuge in that last hour.

“And He [Christ] showed me that it was His great desire of being loved by men and of withdrawing them from the path of ruin that made Him form the design of manifesting His Heart to men, with all the treasures of love, of mercy, of grace, of sanctification and salvation which it contains, in order that those who desire to render Him and procure Him all the honour and love possible, might themselves be abundantly enriched with those divine treasures of which His heart is the source.”
— from Revelations of Our Lord to St. Mary Margaret Alacoque

Pope Leo XIII consecrated the world to the Sacred Heart in 1899. The Sacred Heart novena starts, “O my Jesus, you have said: “Truly I say to you, ask and you will receive, seek and you will find, knock and it will be opened to you.” Behold I knock, I seek and ask for the grace of [mention the purpose of your prayer]”

Then, your intention(s), followed by an Our Father, Hail Mary and Glory Be, and ends, “Sacred Heart of Jesus, I place all my trust in you. Amen.”

The Sacred Heart of Jesus is my go-to prayer for all of the ups and down in our marriage, and I feel so grateful for the ability to stay close to his heart when I feel the winds push hard against my life.

Thank you, Jesus! Your Sacred Heart continues to change my heart.

Originally posted at Ignitum Today

Saint of Hungary and the Homeless

TBM Post #37: The Saints - Picking Them, Picking Us

I "picked" St. Elizabeth of Hungary as my Confirmation saint when I was 13. We were told to research saints, find one we liked, and write a five page paper on him or her. I'm still not sure why I picked her; maybe I liked that she was a princess, or the way she cared about people.

A very-very short bio:

St. Elizabeth of Hungary was born on July 7, 1207 to King Andrew II of Hungary and Gertrude of Merania. At age four, she was sent away to the court of Thuringia (in Germany) for her education, as she was already betrothed to their heir of that throne, Louis IV, whom she married at age 14 in 1221. They had a happy marriage and three children - alas, this was the time of the Crusades, and off Louis IV went, only to die of a fever in Italy.

Elizabeth, always giving and pious, decided the court life was not for her (as her in-laws were very against her charitable nature and actions), made accommodations for her children, and left the castle to serve the poor. Elizabeth used her dowry money to build a hospital. She had a difficult confessor who held her to impossible standards, and still she worked tirelessly for the sick and the homeless until her death in 1231, at age 24.

At age 25-going-on-26, my life span is already longer than hers. And yet, it cements further in my mind that St. Elizabeth of Hungary picked me, though it appears merely circumstantial. She is the patron saint of hospitals (married to a doctor), nurses (raised by one/ my mom), bakers (I try?), young brides (check!), countesses (?), dying children, exiles, homeless people*, lace-makers, widows and the Third Order of St. Francis.

*Homeless people are the reason I know St. Elizabeth of Hungary picked me.

Tokyo, Japan - June 2012: Homeless people living in cardboard boxes

I am drawn to homeless people. I feel empathy for them, and pity. I want to help them, and I've been faced with a very real way of helping them while living down here in New Orleans. They are very visible. They are on street corners and by the highway and downtown and uptown. They ask for help, any kind of help.

And we are strapped into our budget. We're living off savings, living off a grad school budget. We are not poor, especially considering our surroundings. I don't think Will or I really understand what true poverty is. But our belts our tight. We give our dollar or two at mass, even though "ten percent of our income is still zero," Will jokes. I obsessively go over our budget, as if money is going to appear somewhere. Diapers, wipes, baby butt cream and now teething gel. I want to buy Grace a Megaseat; I'm tempted to ask for it for my birthday in March. But that money is better spent on baby proofing the house...

Then again, people survive on a lot less. I'm working on my daydreams, trying to find the line between sprucing up the home and the reality of lack of basic necessities. Elizabeth brings me back to that.

We don't have a lot of money, and we've made the decision not to give money directly to people. Instead, I carry non-dairy protein drinks, meal replacement bars and nutri-grain bars, and vegetable+fruit squeezes in the car with me. Last week, I emptied a box full. Today, I gave out one. If we had more money, I would buy Subway gift cards and hand those out for delicious, healthy meals.

Source

The most important thing, however, is to look at the person in the face and smile. Homeless people are humans and need more positive human interaction. It is shaming that our society cannot take the time to look at another human being in the face, even if it's to wave and say hello.

I understand that safety is always a concern. I often have Grace in the car with me, and if I felt it was unsafe (i.e. I never open my window at night), I would not put our lives in danger. However, most people are simply pleading for acknowledgement.

Once we are settled in our next location, I'd like to start helping in a food kitchen. The homeless are truly on my heart. I pray for them daily. I've cried thinking about the homeless out in the cold up north. I cannot imagine it; I wonder where their families are, where their little platoon has gone, or why they have left.

If you are also interested in helping your fellow humans, and if you're worried about feeling uncomfortable, we're in the same boat. I've become even more introverted since college, and I'm blushing now just thinking about putting myself out there. I could make a total fool of myself. And, you know - I don't do that enough. Risk my pride. Risk being shown that I have more to give this world, and risk realizing that my potential for giving has only just begun.

So, for now, I start with rolling down my window and smiling and handing them food and saying, "God bless!" Thank you, St. Elizabeth of Hungary, for placing this desire deep in my heart, and modeling true charity and giving of self.

May we all follow in your path, in our own way.

**
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What's So Scary About Another Baby? (Or, Why I'll Never Have A Bucket List)

This week is my cleansing week.

On Sunday, Will and I did an overall cleaning.
On Monday, I deep cleaned and paid bills.
On Tuesday, laundry and grocery shopping.
Today, more laundry and cleaning; lunch with a Hillsdale friend.
Tomorrow, third floor, an oil change, then packing for Iowa and Kansas.
Friday, errands and leaving.
Saturday, more driving and visiting family for the weekend before the very last interview.

Yesterday, Grace decided that being put down was for chumps and she was having none of it. I told her self-soothing was important, so we had a little tummy time, but mostly she cooed/ whined at me, fell asleep, cried more, nursed, repeat. I'm falling more and more in love with her Wubbanub and I'm here to say - if you have a baby, you need one. I've been sorting through everything we now own thanks to Thanksgiving/ Baptism/ Christmas, so I'm actually made a mess more than cleaning one up... but you know, duty calls. Repeat today. And tomorrow.

With all these resolutions and bucket lists floating around, I couldn't help but notice a few missing. I'm not sure if I'm making resolutions this year, as much as I am continuing to create habits and cultivate more virtue. If I am going to make a resolution, it is to love people as God loves them.

I got this idea from a priest during confession, when I was telling him how I was failing in loving, because the person causing me to stumble does not even know. He laughed a bit with me, and told me he had no advice. Perhaps, he suggested, you need to try loving the person as God loves them.

The person who pushes your buttons. The person who belittles your beliefs. The person who you need a gun to your head so that you can remember to be a good person, like the Misfit said.

And especially your family. I've always been struck by the profoundness of Blessed Teresa of Culcutta's, "Want to promote world peace? Go home and love your family."

I get teary looking at Grace post-feeding. She sleeps in the cradle of my arm, holding my shirt in her little fist. I'm trapped. I can't move or she'll wake up, and, you know? That's okay. I have nothing more important to do than love my child. And tonight, when she cried a half hour after I put her to bed - not a soft cry, but a scared one - I went in, sat criss-cross applesauce (as my five year old friend says) on the bed next to hers, and held her there till she fell asleep again. It was a very humbling moment, knowing that I can comfort her and take away her fear.

I'm alone tonight. Will drove nine+ hours to another interview, which starts at 6:45 a.m. tomorrow, and then he'll drive back, and hopefully not push himself to the brink of exhaustion and stay overnight in a hotel. And then after his classes, we'll leave to visit family this weekend, who live close to Will's last interview of the season.

These past six months have been our leap of faith. Now, we wait three-ish more and wait to see what our pay-off is. It's frightening. It's exhilarating. It's our adventure. This move for Will's M.S. isn't just about him and his future job prospects. It's about us. It's about pursuing medicine and pursuing a family; it's about trust and not being afraid.

In this next year, God willing, we'll be employed, we'll move, and we'll be pregnant again. I'm starting a new job, Will's starting a new job, Grace is on the half-roll train, so I guess once those arms discover what they can do, she'll jump into crawling, walking and talking...

Which, I suppose, is why I don't like bucket lists. Not just because you could not pay me a billion dollars to jump out of an airplane (or off a roof), but, because, no matter where I go, I'm just so grateful for my life. I had two goals post-college: be happy at my job and to travel overseas. I did both, and they taught me that true happiness comes from God, who is love. True happiness comes from loving yourself first, and about accepting yourself as easily as you accept the ones you love. When you love yourself, as God loves you, you can better love others, and accept their love.

I remember, before Will and I were engaged, and he was telling me about the current rotation he was on, and the topic of death came up; the way he talked so freely about his own death prompted tears on my end, and I hugged him fiercely. I had been with him a few months earlier, when his grandfather died. The way the clock's hands tick, the way life is like running water: what I mean is, there is nothing more courageous and brave that I've ever done than to admit to Will how much I love him, and to live it.

Will and I have never had a fight, and it's not because we haven't disagreed or been hurt by the other person. It's because we talk about it, even when I'm too pained to think of words. It's the way we enjoy each other's strengths and compensate for each other's weaknesses. It's the way we care for each other, our child, and get excited about our future littles.

Without this beautiful love, it might seem odd that Will and I are happy we got preggo two weeks post-wedding; happy we went through periods of suffering and serious self-doubt before the birth of our child; happy to be relatively low-on-assets (for the time being) in exchange for being parents; happily planning our next child to be born during residency, presumably the busiest time of our life.

This year, I am practicing love. I can't solve homelessness, but I can help it. I can't fix all the problems, but I can listen. I could get frustrated or I could take a deep breath and seek perspective and prayer. Life is too short to be angry or resentful (something I struggle with); life is too fragile, too precious not to try and show love, as well as give it.

Because, at the end of it all, what else matters?

I Will Wait For You, Marcus Mumford - A Review of "Babel"

When I first read “Against Mumford” by Matthew Schmitz at First Thoughts, I wondered if we had listened to the same songs. Schmitz’s review of English folk-rock band Mumford and Sons’s second album “Babel” applauds the negativity of critics and belittles the praise of fans. His snarky critiques are unjust and lack an appreciation for the depth of their lyrical content and the wideness of their audience.

Mumford & Sons on their US Lake Tour

For the sake of clarity, I’ll state my position early on: I love Mumford and Sons’s music. I love their sound, I love their lyrics, and I love the way their music gets under my skin and into my soul. For people looking for real substance in music, this is an excellent band to listen to and truly enjoy. I also think conservatives have a lot to appreciate in Mumford’s art too, and I am intrigued by the men behind the mayhem.

I attended my first Mumford and Sons concert in August 2012, before the release of “Babel”; it was a sold-out event in which thousands of people stood on the lawn through three bands to hear the fourth play loudly into the night. There is no typical Mumford fan. I saw teenagers, twenty-somethings, parents with their kids, the hip, the prep, the jaded, and the older. People sang along, danced, hopped up and down, or swayed. For a concert, it certainly had an element of revival in it. There is something very beautiful about hearing thousands of people around you singing along to “It seems that all my bridges have been burnt/ But you say that’s exactly how this grace thing works/ It’s not the long walk home that will change this heart/ But the welcome I receive with the re-start” with their arms in the air and a smile on their face.

But the sheer beauty and power of these kinds of lyrics does not seem to phase or impress Schmitz. He says,

 ”But Mumford does not demand any public or existential commitment from its listeners. It is the typical suburban song-spinning of popular music, but unlike that popular music it affects to be about something more. Mumford seems to be incapable of writing serious songs and unwilling to write ones that eschew bombast. …Mumford and Sons is a kind of musical Pintrest. They “collect” without really linking together a variety of quaint, beautiful, and touching things.”

If by not writing serious songs, he must be referring to songs with lyrics like these: “In these bodies we will live,/ In these bodies we will die,/ Where you invest your love/ You invest your life/ …You were made to meet your maker.” I can understand where he is coming from, though. With other popular musical artists like the ever philosophical Taylor Swift, who straight-up tells her listeners without ‘eschewing bombast’ that “Oooh, we called it off again last night/ But oooh, this time, I’m telling you, I’m telling you,/ We are never, ever, ever getting back together” and Rihanna’s more poetical “You’re a shooting star I see/ A vision of ecstasy/ When you hold me, I’m alive/ We’re like diamonds in the sky.”

And what of demanding any public commitment from its listeners? Do we here at The Imaginative Conservative demand that all our readers be conservatives or have an imagination? Certainly not. And for that matter, what secular music group anywhere demands public commitment of some sort? It leaves one feeling nauseated that good music cannot be appreciated without a loyalty stamp of approval. Schmitz also needed to do his homework before this piece was published. He writes, “We don’t know if they’re Christian (or indeed if they have any existential commitment), or if they’re just aesthetic reactionaries of a limited type. Eclecticism precludes evangelism.”

This begins a tricky and touchy subject between band mates. In a June 2011 interview with the band, Josh Eells of Rolling Stones wrote

“Listening to Mumford & Sons’ songs, it’s hard not to detect a vaguely spiritual undercurrent. The lyrics – in addition to high-literary allusions to Shakespeare and Steinbeck (Mumford, after all, is a guy who reads 16th-century English historical fiction for fun) – are also full of references to faith, sin and atonement, not to mention explicit exhortations to “serve God” and profound queries like “Can you kneel before the King and say, ‘I’m clean, I’m clean’?” Coupled with the band’s harmonies and a propulsive beat, they can almost sound more like Christian praise songs than modern-rock hits.”

Two of the band mates, Marcus Mumford and Ben Lovett, keyboardist and accordion player in the band, who has been friends with Mumford since the third grade, had this to say to Rolling Stones:

According to Lovett, a committed nonbeliever, Mumford’s religion made things tricky. “It was always a bit of a stumbling block for our friendship,” he says. “I don’t know if Marcus would see it like that – we were still great friends who played music together. But whenever that stuff would come up . . .”

The band publicly says the band is not Christian as all band mates are not believers, or religious for that matter. 

In a September 2012 interview with NPR,

Mumford grew up a preacher’s kid, and so it’s natural to presume that the new album’s title, Babel, takes on a certain biblical relevance. But the idea is far wider. “There are matters of the heart and sort of spiritual considerations that most humans have — explorative, really,” Mumford says. “We’re inspired by such a range of things between the four of us — almost every genre of music has been embraced by one of us at some time, and just about anything can inspire a song.” Schmitz final attack was suggested a clever ploy:

“The whole problem is well represented by their name, “Mumford and Sons.” It suggests history, tradition, the passing down of something real–above all, the transmission of blood. But Marcus Mumford is not in a band with his sons; in fact, he has no sons at all.”

To that, I have to say “yet.” Marcus Mumford is barely older than me at age 25 and married his childhood sweetheart last year, actress Carey Mulligan. The two met through church and were pen pals as children, before re-connecting after both had established themselves in public careers.

But to continue to the album: it is magnificent. It is not, however, an album which can be picked apart. Listening to one or two songs may be please, but the music is best appreciated when listened to in order. The reason this music is beautiful is not just the instrumentals, or the voices – it is the words. The songs remind me of a prayer journal, which is the power behind Mumford’s publicity. They may deny and deny again, like Peter before the cock crows, but the spirituality in these songs touch people in a way Christian-specific art has not lately affected the culture.

On personal speculation, I think it is the band’s success is viscerally coming at odds with personal beliefs, which is causing the band to take a break for a while. How can you sing about being a “lover of the light” and say “‘Cause I know my weakness, know my voice,/ And I’ll believe in grace and choice/ And I know perhaps my heart is farce,/ But I’ll be born without a mask” and say that these words are just words?

Some people do not like the repetition of the lyrics; these, again, remind me of prayer. The way we repeat the words over and over again (in, say, the Jesus prayer) so as to make it less about the words we say to God and more about our deepest need for communion with God. Mumford tells us, “But I’ll still believe though there’s cracks you’ll see,/ When I’m on my knees I’ll still believe,/ And when I’ve hit the ground, neither lost nor found,/ If you’ll believe in me I’ll still believe.”

The songs cover marriage proposals, regret, death, faith, hope, love, the search for contentment and the roads we all travel on in this life. The lyrics do not shy away from the hardships of life – the way sin entices us, the way life hands us hardships, the hope that we cling to when there is seemingly no hope. In “Hopeless Wanderer” he sings, “I wrestled long with my youth/ We tried so hard to live in the truth/ But do not tell me all is fine/ When I lose my head, I lose my spine.” He goes on to sing how he “will learn to love the skies he is under.”

Photo by James Minchin III for Rolling Stones

There are bad words and divine inspiration; there is humility and a lot of mandolin playing. Mumford & Sons remind me of virtuous pagans who speak truth and see light, though they do not attribute it correctly. And though a few members of the band were raised Christians, I have high hopes and heavy prayers that they will return to the Church with a flourish. Their art is too important to be foolish writings. Their music touches souls and digs deep; it is not just the study of poetry and a wide range of literature. Human nature can not be known as much as it can be felt.

Mumford & Sons are musicians, not theologians, but this does not mean they cannot reach upwards in explaining the Word in action. Mumford sings, “Spare my sins for the ark/ I was too slow to depart/ I’m a cad but I’m not a fraud/ I’d set out to serve the Lord.”

The other members of the band especially deny religious significance, but one listen to this album speaks much louder. I will wait for your next album, Marcus Mumford!

“And I came home/ Like a stone/ And I fell heavy into your arms/ These days of darkness/ Which we’ve known/ Will blow away with this new sun/ And I’ll kneel down/ Wait for now/ And I’ll kneel down/ Know my ground/ And I will wait, I will wait for you.”

Originally posted at The Imaginative Conservative

The Need for Self-Care

Originally published at The Mirror Magazine

Last Sunday, I drove two and a half hours to a beach in Alabama with my husband and a friend, chatting and laughing and singing along to the radio and our CD collection. A couple hours later, we were driving back to New Orleans, with white sand stuck to all the crevices and skin (and in our hair), sunburns, and conversations that would dwindle off as a favorite song came into play.

Once we crossed back over the border into Louisiana, I asked my husband to drive because I was so tired. The waves had been strong and full, white-capping and carrying our bodies forward and onward. It takes strength to stand up against the tide, even when you dig your feet into the sand and swear you shan't move. But moving isn't the problem - it's where you end up. Let yourself get swayed, and you'll end up 20 feet down the beach. But maybe that's where the adventure starts? As I sat on the sand in the late afternoon and watched the sand crabs dive into their holes, I thought: this is self-care.

Self-care "refers to actions and attitudes which contribute to the maintenance of well-being and personal health and promote human development." Self-care starts with self-awareness.

What are you able to do? What do you want to do? Why are you feeling this way?

My husband likes reading on the beach between swims, and our friend took at least one nap on her towel, but as I was less than two weeks away from my due date (a week now!), I cannot lie on a towel without needing Will to physically help me up again or sit comfortably near the hot sand for so long. So, I thought, what do I want to do? And it was a wonderful feeling. I went and sat on the lower part of the beach, and let the waves wash over my legs and my belly, where my baby pokes me and teases me.

It's taken me nine months to get to the point where I can sit in the sand. I've never taken leisure time very seriously. There was work time, vacation time, quality time (with friends and/or family), chore time and productive time. Even sleep time got the short end of the stick, more often than not.

Leisure is not the same as self-care, but it can feel that way to me. Instead of being optional, however, self-care is possibly one of the most important things a person can do for herself. Self-care is a recognition of your limitations, a want to improve, and a desire for sanity. If a person does not relax, their body will become ragged and force rest upon them in forms of sickness or exhaustion, mental and physical.

Source

Self-care can come from necessity - my pregnancy forced me to re-evaluate how I never took time to rest. Self-care must become a habit, verses a special occasion.

I've focused my self-care on four areas: daily prayer, daily exercise, daily writing, and naps.

I've taken small steps - morning prayer, and daily mass once a week. Exercise for 30 minutes. Writing without publishing.

I learned to nap. I learned to sit down and watch. I learned that it was okay being passive, as long as you didn't get stuck there. I learned that it was okay to let people help you, and admit that you can't handle a work load.

This week, I think I'll paint my nails. I've organized the closets and re-written the chore and grocery list, for my own peace of mind. Now, to finish a few bigger projects and book reviews!

How do you self-care, reader? Do you self-care? Why or why not? What is holding you back if you're not?

The Hard Thing

Story 101 prompt - Today's challenge: think back over this week. What do you feel is your hard thing? How do you feel about it? What is the purpose in you writing it? I believe when He asks us to write something difficult - to share that which we are most afraid of - it's because He has a reason and a purpose in those words. What are you fighting?

My hard thing is forgiveness, which could also be argued as my easy thing. When someone hurts my feelings, when someone is thoughtless in their interactions with me - I can usually push it aside, see their motivation, hear their apology (if there is one), and forgive them in my heart. It is forgotten!

But... to the person who violated our friendship, to the person who should be more supportive when I need it most, and to the two mentor figures who treated me like disposable talent, I have a hard time with my Grudge. 

My capital-G grudge is what keeps forgiveness at bay. They all haunt me, because the root of the blame is usually myself, and the mistakes I've made. If you had only... echoes down the hall. I try to sleep at night. I tell myself I won't shy away from reconciling myself to the Lord. To forgive others heals me, and I am afraid to keep asking for all the grace and forgiveness I really, truly need. Like a child who has tasted the water from the well, I keep asking: Please God. Please God, be with me. Help me Lord. Help me!

In the readings on Sunday, the theme was, God listens to those who persist. Abraham talked to God about lowering the numbers of good men, so as to save Sodom and Gomorrah (from 50 to 10, so I would say he was persistent). In the Gospel, Jesus said, "And I tell you, Ask, and it will be given you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For every one who asks receives, and he who seeks finds, and to him who knocks it will be opened" (Luke 11:9-10).

I ask, I seek, I knock in my writing. My purpose in writing this is simply to vocalize my hurt. My purpose in writing anything is to vocalize words in a different order than the way they appear in my head - rushed, jumbled, excited. It's why I love the sacrament of Confession so much - it's more than silently making my peace with the Lord, more than crying and being repentant. It's physically saying the words out loud to the priest, who is acting in the person of Christ. It's saying I'm sorry to the person who loves me so much, he would suffer death again, just for me. It's knowing I am forgiven, when I struggle to forgive myself. I need that verbal affirmation from the only person who will never disappoint me.

I am fighting against how scared I am; how I have been hurt, over and over and over again. I've been betrayed. I've felt broken. I'm struggling to heal. And I wonder how truly, truly hurt Jesus was - emotionally - when Judas kissed him, killed him with the kindness.

Elora, the "Story101 midwife" as Shelby (fellow workshop-er) dubbed her, issued this additional challenge: Consider what Bradbury asks. When was the last time your real love or real hatred showed itself in your writing?

Ray Bradbury, in the Zen in the Art of Writing, wrote:

How long has it been since you wrote a story where your real love or your real hatred somehow got onto the paper? When was the last time you dared release a cherished prejudice so it slammed the page like a lightning bolt? What are the best things and the worst things in your life, and when are you going to to get around to whispering or shouting them?

I know I've written of love, real love: the way Christ has utterly transformed my heart; the way my family misses me and loves me; the way my husband cares for me and tells me so, the way he says, "I love us"; the way my baby moves and grooves; the way I'm learning to create a home, and not merely living to establish myself-- but real hatred? I shudder. Hate is so dark, so ugly. Perhaps, however, hate is what I think I feel towards those few people, and it's hard for me to admit that. I prefer "a very strong dislike." I don't hate the people, either - I hate their actions. I hate the way they don't see how they hurt me. I hate the way they live their lives without a second thought to how they hurt me. I hate that, even though I've tried to vocalize my hurt, I've been drowned into silence. And so I sit by the dark water and dip my toes in, afraid of the hate monsters that lurk beneath.

Blessed Mother Teresa said,

“People are often unreasonable and self-centered. Forgive them anyway. If you are kind, people may accuse you of ulterior motives. Be kind anyway. If you are honest, people may cheat you. Be honest anyway. If you find happiness, people may be jealous. Be happy anyway. The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway. Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough. Give your best anyway. For you see, in the end, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway.”

And so, yes, ultimately, that earthly, human, prideful hurt is unresolved. That's hard too. My life is not consumed by this hurt, though - only colored. I hope it will grow more pale in the days and years to come. To dwell is to feed the hate monsters. To be hateful is to lessen your own humanity, and to give less to one's fellow man than what is due to him or her: respect, love as an action, and forgiveness. Life is too short for anything else.

Live Lent: A Challenge In Itself

Join The Bright Maidens for our "Live Lent!": Beyond Giving Up Chocolate forum.

Today, at Ash Wednesday mass, I cried. A lot. My husband asked me what was wrong and I shooed away his concerns. Some times, when you feel repentant and the force of God's mercy and grace in your life, you just need to express those feelings. So I did, and took five tissues down with me.

I've been carrying a lot of weight on my shoulders lately. I'm tired. For all the blessings I am thankful for, I often finding myself begging God for a little reprieve.



Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light. (Matthew 11:28-30 RSV).

And frankly, during the "Jesus, Remember Me in Your Kingdom" sing-a-long after Holy Communion, I almost lost it. Fortunately, B. was there to hold my hand and keep singing. I am continually reminded how truly blessed I am to be married to him.

I have a feeling this Lent is not going to be an easy one for me. For one thing, work is going to be more intense for the next three weeks, and that is surely not a coincidence.

Therefore, this Lent, I am doing three things:

Lent 2013: It's All About Attitude

Praying the Rosary every night with my husband, in addition to night prayers.

Offering up my bitterness toward people who inadvertently upset me, and praying for them instead. (E.g. the woman who came to mass with the flu; the woman who drove into the crosswalk so as to cut off 2 seconds before the next stop light 15 feet later while the 2 y.o. and I were out walking; etc. ... as my husband says, it sounds like I am still working on this one. I am. All 40 days.)

I am not biting off more than I can chew this Lenten season. The power of "NO" or "NOT NOW" - I must find it! I do this all the time, which is often the reason I am tired. Just one more... article... or... well... what am I writing about again? It's also the reason one table at our apartment is completely covered in organized piles of "stuff" which I shall truly organize once I publish this post.

The priest at mass today reminded us that penance is necessary, even though people are essentially good, because we could all be better. Even though I am not making it a Lenten promise, I'll be returning more frequently to the sacrament of Reconciliation this Lent, and I hope you'll join me in a renewal of our soul, mind and commitment to following Christ.

I'd also love to pray for you! Anything. Nothing is too silly to pray about it. Let me know.

If you're on Twitter, join #ashtag to share you and your ashes! You can also e-mail the USCCB, who is collecting pictures of people with their ashes. My ashes are hard to see today.

All glory to God in the highest!

Progress through Respect

In case you missed it, Dr. Benjamin Carson spoke at the National Prayer Breakfast and DANG did he rock that boat:



If you want a good cause to support, check out Carson Scholars Fund!

I love what The Anchoress said about him and the speech he gave:

Let me end on an optimistic note. Give yourself a half-hour at some point today, and watch this remarkable video, of Dr. Benjamin Carson speaking at a recent National Prayer Breakfast attended by the president and vice-president, their spouses, the new Secretary of State. After quoting proverbs, he says some bold things, dares to criticize the repressive habit of self-censorship we have fallen into thanks to political correctness. “PC is dangerous,” he says, “it muffles people. It puts a muzzle on them and at the same time keeps people from discussing important issues while the fabric of this society is being changed…we need to start talking about things…” 

He talks about coming up from poverty: he is the son of a poor, illiterate mother (herself one of 24 children) who was himself a “bad student” — the sort of kid California might decide needn’t be expected to learn Algebra. He talks about the need to disenthrall ourselves from ideological fervor so intractable that it would rather the wrong thing than the right, if it means a “win” for “the party.” 

He says it all right in the face of the people who really need to hear it, but we all do. Do yourself a favor and watch**. Benjamin Carter is a man of science and a man of faith; he puts the lie to the inane idea that the two are mutually exclusive, and suggests that balance is still possible.

LOVE. What a great American and man! And not afraid to invoke the name of our Lord Jesus Christ! May we all have the strength and conviction to walk such a path in life.

New Year, New Name

Happy 2013, readers! I spent most of December 31, 2012 in four airports/ on a plane/ watching Muppet Treasure Island and The Hunger Games (God bless laptops and airports/planes with outlets!)/ writing/ trying not to annoy B. with my inability to decide what I wanted to eat. We got home super late, and I collapsed until quite late into January 1. It is certainly delightful to begin 2013 well-rested!

I am pleased as punch to finally let you know what my significant other's "B" stands for: Baldwin!

Our marriage ceremony

I'll still be referring to my dear husband as B. because he's the best! I'll also be publishing as J.R. Baldwin from here on (except on the blog- still Julie to y'all!). My twitter handle remains the same; updating Pintrest (how fancy!).

I am not sure how I feel about new years resolutions. On one hand, they are a great time to be introspective about things I'd like to change or do. I've never been exceptionally keen on having new years resolutions (I completed half of these), but after reading Hannah's list (who published my I Am Thankful For post!) and Leah's link-up, I decided to indulge.

I resolve to read the daily Mass readings and say a prayer of Spiritual Communion each day, especially if I am unable to attend daily Mass. Life is too short, and too busy- but I can never be too busy for God. I read my Magnificat, and still I need to trouble myself to be more diligent to God's word. This world is so beautiful, and yet my soul has yet to be properly prepared for the splendors of Heaven!

Bonus point: Daily mass! Morning prayer too!

Us on top of a mountain we climbed!

I resolve to have a happy heart and willing spirit to exercise. My husband is very excited about exercising together, and I should be open to the company! I've tried spinning, pilates and now yoga and I can report that it is more pride than lack of athleticism holding me back. Nike's right: I need to JUST DO IT!!

Bonus point: Make a schedule and stick to it! Drink more water and sleep at least 7-8 hours too.

I resolve to pray for vocations. So many of my dear brothers and sisters in Christ are single or searching for what the Lord has in store for them; let me assist and remember what it feels like to wander!

Bonus point: Write more posts on vocations as relationships editor of Ignitum Today.

I resolve to publish more. Severe time constraints (and pride) in 2012 kept me from updating this blog and meeting proper deadlines, and I am absolutely resolved in 2013 to hop back on the properly publishing train! I've written a lot, but published 20-30% of it (maybe). It's time to release more Julie Thoughts and Prose.

Bonus point: Blog more. It makes me happy, it makes dear readers happy: win-win!

I resolve to organize, purge, and be prudent. I have a lot of papers. I have a lot of memories. I have a huge to-scrapbook-and-create-adorableness box, and, at some point, I will have to face it. Especially since B. and I may move (again) in 6 months for his work. I also need to organize personal papers and finances to accommodate for my change in marital status.

Bonus Point: Get pictures into photo-books!

And, finally:

I resolve to seek beauty, love, hope and truth first. As Victor Hugo saith, "To love another person is to see the face of God."

I love him!

Any resolutions for 2013, dear readers?