So for the past few weeks I have been really feeling the imminence of our oldest daughter’s wedding.  My work leads me to speak with many families who bring their children for baptism, and I can’t help but think of all the time that has passed since my first born was baptized.  I remember her baptism day very well; I woke up that morning to find our microwave full of little ants! Therefore, instead of calmly preparing to go to Mass that morning, my husband and I found ourselves prying the microwave out of the built in cabinet and putting it outside in the grass to be sprayed and cleaned up.  This became my focus; the rest of the morning was a blur.  I had a ton of family and friends coming over after Mass to celebrate this day, needless to say, I was freaking out. Thank goodness pictures were taken that help me to recall moments of that celebration.  Do I remember the actual baptism? Honestly, no!  I was too concerned with the condition I had left my house in to really enter into what I am sure was a very beautiful rite, marking her faith journey and her initiation into our Catholic faith.  They say wisdom comes with age, so I pray!  I am now more aware of how important those sacramental occasions are and as I prepare for the grand day; a day in which 7 excited bridesmaids will be up early in my home preparing for the hair stylist and her team who plan to be there bright and early; a day in which I will need to accommodate everyone, including my 10 year old son, our very social dog who will be in everyone's business, a nervous father of the bride, as well as trying to get myself dressed and at church by 9:30 am; I pray that I will not let any distraction take my attention away from my daughter and the important vows that she and her fiancé will be making that day.  I pray that if ants find their way again into any part of my house I will have the wisdom to just shut the door and move on.  We can take care of that kind of “stuff” later, but I want to remember her smile; I want to be able to vividly recall the tears that certainly will glimmer in my husband’s eyes, I want to embrace that day fully and be thankful to God for the gift he gave us when she was born 25 years ago. Lord, I pray for wisdom..........and please no ants!

A Little Boy Lives Here

Stroll up our walkway towards our bright front door and notice the smiling flowers in a row along a hedge. Look closer and you may see the gap in the hedge that has become a secret tunnel to our neighbor’s house and the worn dirt path in our lawn that denotes the shortest path between home and first base, affirming that baseball is a delight that takes precedence over a perfect pane of green grass. Point your eyes upwards and you may notice the red Frisbee waiting to be rescued from our gabled roof. Peek behind the big terracotta pots holding Florida ferns and find the missing skateboard momentarily forgotten by its owner. Step over our threshold and you may trip on a few sticky quarters left over from a piggy bank heist indicating an afternoon visit from our ice-cream truck was granted a last minute approval.

Come inside and pass thru our foyer into the room that feels lived in, as you walked, you may notice the three darkened horizontal stripes along our wall at waist height of small fingers that were dragged along;  signaling a time where a search for a water source on a hot day of playing outside took place.  If you’re interested in discovering treasures, have a seat on our worn and comfy sofa, put your hands between the cushions; you may be rewarded with a really cool Hot Wheel, or a dried up lizard, a few bent up, old trading cards, or even a missing tooth. Gaze upon  our glass surfaces and instead of your reflection you may see gooey cloudy film that’s evidence of an attraction to interact with any transparent plane and transform it into opaque record of a prior fun time when mom was not  around.

Yes, a little boy lives here in our home.  His presence is hard to hide, even when he is away.  I complain about having to clean up or pick up after him, but there will come a day, when our yard will be pristine, our sofa eternally plump, our walls brightest white, our mirrors will constantly reflect a perfectly clean and neat image of a world that will be missing a little boy in our home because that little boy will have turned into a man.