Never Tap the Mower Guy

Today at "Faith and Family Live" I wrote about my experience at the cemetery, trying to find Father Roger's marker.

Lesson learned: When you need directions, never sneak up on the guy who's mowing the lawn. Especially when he's worked for the park for 35 years, and is two weeks short of retirement.

Laboring in Love

I've often said that the labor pains that most moms experience before a child is born, adoptive mothers get to experience after the fact, while they are bonding and forming attachments with their children.

It is also true that many children process the losses of adoption throughout their lives, as they reach various developmental milestones. Right now we are going through it with Chris ... His moodiness, outbursts, and tantrums are all indicative of a child who is struggling to make sense of his world. Last night he came down with a letter to his first parents, telling them how much he misses and loves them still.

It's hard not to look at such a letter, and wonder if I could do something to eliminate these feelings. Or whether I've done something to bring them on. But then I take a step back, and try to look at the situation as dispassionately as I can. Sure, it hurts to see that after all this time he still wrestles with the "real mom" question.

But it's not about me. It's about him.

If you've ever gone through something like this, or even if you haven't, I hope you'll join me in this prayer today...

Heavenly Father, sometimes adoption hurts. That's the truth.

Sometimes I feel as though I'm stumbling in the dark,

leading the kids with me as I bump into walls.

Surround us with your Spirit, and create new bonds of love,

Bonds of light and healing that only YOU can create.

Take us by the hands, and labor with us in love.

For YOU are our Father.

Mother Mary, pray for us.

St. Joseph, patron of families, pray for us.

St. Thomas More, patron of adopted children, pray for us.

Memento Mori

This morning I got a note from Kitchen Madonna, wondering if she'd missed the post in which I talk about my newfound zest for life. What would induce me to join a gym (my goal is 20 pounds by Christmas), shift gears professionally, and re-evaluate my priorities with such uncommon clarity for one who was always juggling 20 projects at any given moment.

I looked back and realized ... sure enough ... I'd completely forgotten to actually write about this personal epiphany. Go figure. So here goes...

There is nothing quite like the deaths of two friends -- both of whom were just my age, one of whom left behind a five-year-old son -- within a single month to make a person take stock. The early Christians had an expression: Memento Mori (remember death). This was not a morbid preoccupation with the Grim Reaper, but a mindset that helped the Christian to evaluate all of life with an eye on that which is of ultimate value: Family. Relationships. God. Heaven.

Twenty or forty or sixty years from now, what will people remember about me?

* The books will have been long out of print, the magazines reduced to landfill.

* Our possessions will have been sold off, divided up, or simply worn out.

* The hours of cleaning and cooking and washing and organizing (surely after decades of homemaking, this time will have added up to hours, minutes at a time) ... all slip by, unnoticed.

* But the people who knew me well -- my children and my husband, other family and close friends. The ones whose birthdays have been passing without a card, while I rush to correspond with this or that church group. They are the ones who will remember ...

They will remember me either as someone who cared enough to invest in them, or as someone who just went through the motions on her way to "more important" things.

So ... in honor of my friends, I choose to make better choices. Take care of myself. Take care of my children. Take care of the things that will matter -- 20 or 40 or 60 years from now.

Memento Mori.

When a Pet Dies: Letter from Heaven

My mother-in-law passed this on to me today. I warn you ... it's a tear-jerker. So go grab a tissue and a cup of tea, and settle in. This information might come in handy one day! (If anyone can help me with the original source, I'd be happy to post it.)

Our 14 year old dog, Abbey, died last month.The day after she died, my 4 year old daughter Meredith was crying and talking about how much she missed Abbey. She asked if we could write a letter to God so that when Abbey got to heaven, God would recognize her. I told her that I thought we could so she dictated these words:

Dear God,
Will you please take care of my dog? She died yesterday and is with you in heaven. I miss her very much. I am happy that you let me have her as my dog even though she got sick. I hope you will play with her. She likes to play with balls and to swim. I am sending a picture of her so when you see her. You will know that she is my dog. I really miss her. Love, Meredith.

We put the letter in an envelope with a picture of Abbey and Meredith and addressed it to God/Heaven. We put our return address on it. Then Meredith pasted several stamps on the front of the envelope because she said it would take lots of stamps to get the letter all the way to heaven.

That afternoon she dropped it into the letter box at the post office. A few days later, she asked if God had gotten the letter yet. I told her that I thought He had.

Yesterday, there was a package wrapped in gold paper on our front porch addressed, 'To Meredith , 'in an unfamiliar hand. Meredith opened it. Inside was a book by Mr. Rogers called, 'When a Pet Dies.' Taped to the inside front cover was the letter we had w ritten to God in its opened envelope. On the opposite page was the picture of Abbey & Meredith and this note:

Dear Meredith,

Abbey arrived safely in heaven. Having the picture was a big help. I recognized Abbey right away.

Abbey isn't sick anymore. Her spirit is here with me just like it stays in your heart. Abbey loved being your dog. Since we don't need our bodies in heaven, I don't have any pockets to keep your picture in, so I am sending it back to you in this little book for you to keep and have something to remember Abbey by.

Thank you for the beautiful letter and thank your mother for helping you write it and sending it to me. What a wonderful mother you have. I picked her especially for you. I send my blessings every day and remember that I love you very much.

By the way, I'm easy to find, I am wherever there is love. Love,God