The last time I went to visit my sister in New Orleans. I wanted to go French Quarter to have coffee and beignets at Cafe Du Monde in the French Quarter, but NO! Jo refused to take me there. Instead she took me to a local outdoor cafe in New Orleans. As we were walking to the quaint cafe I noticed a lot of caterpillars crawling all over the sidewalk. I asked Jo, “What are all these worms?” Her reply was “Thems are mean caterpillars and if you get stung you could die.” Jo also told me to watch my purse because this was not a safe area. I had just returned from Jerusalem and was home for twelve hours before boarding a plane to New Orleans, so I still had my passport on me. I was uncomfortable with the situation and leaned against the wall, hanging on to my handbag so that it would not get snatched.

We were to meet Tori, Jo’s son for lunch at twelve, so we left in plenty of time to allow for parking. As we were walking to Jo’s vehicle, my right hand started to throb, and pain was shooting through some of my fingers. I told Jo that I was not feeling well. Jo jokingly said, “Maybe you got stung by one of those caterpillars!” I really did not understand what was going on, and thought maybe I was having some type of mini- stroke. We get in my sister’s Hummer with her granddaughter Sophie in the backseat, and the pain became more intense. I am a bit of drama, and I really wanted to know why all of a sudden this pain came about. In the meantime, Jo found a really good parking spot, when all of a sudden both of my legs started to feel the same pain as my fingers, throbbing, burning, and at this point I just thought that I could be having a mild heart attack. I grabbed for my purse and a huge venomous caterpillar was stuck to on the handbag. I had never screamed so loud in my life. I tried to fling the caterpillar off but,  it latched on to my already injured hand.  I yelled at the top of my lungs, “The worm! The Worm!” I did everything possible to removes the aggressive creature, and my body was  moving wildly and out of control. “The Worm! The Worm! it’s biting me!” Jo’s sweet four-year-old granddaughter was crying from all the commotion. Before Jo could park, she yelled for me to get out of the car. I jumped out dazed and in shock. In front of another sidewalk cafe sat a man and his wife enjoying an early lunch when I approached him with my wild story. At that point I had no idea where the killer worm was and I was not going to go back into that vehicle until I saw its spiny body with my own two eyes. The poor man came to the vehicle and used a napkin to remove the disgusting, crawling critter.

My inner knees were on fire from the stings of the beast and I was shaking, almost to the point of passing out. Tori showed up and Jo told him what happened. Tori left  to purchase some Benadryl for me. We sat at the beautiful table with white linens, and the waiter came to ask for our drink order, but I could not speak because of the pain.  Jo told the waiter about the incident, and the waiter shared a story about his daughter who was recently hospitalized because of injuries caused by same kind of caterpillar. Of course this story validated my fear. Though it was an upscale restaurant, I did not enjoy my meal because for all I knew, it could have been my last one.

I picked up some type of virus either in the Holy Land or in New Orleans, so when I returned from New Orleans, I was bedridden. Mike was sure it was the poisonous toxins injected by the caterpillar, but I was too weak to think about it. I did remember that we took several pictures the day of the incident, so  I grabbed for my phone and swiped across the photos. I came to one picture, and using my index finger and thumb, I enlarged it, there, plain as day, was corpulent caterpillar.

If my sister had taken me to get coffee and beignets in French Quarter, the incident with the caterpillar would not have happened.

Isaiah 33:4 New King James Version (NKJV)

When our son Mikos was a sophomore at Villa Park High School, I was part of an unpopular grassroots movement. Another mother and I formed a club called MAP, an acronym for Mothers Against Parties. Some of us moms knew that our boys were being exposed to alcohol at local parties, so we wanted to inform other parents of the parties that were being thrown with booze being served to kids.

Sheryl and I were the moms that spearheaded the club. Sheryl was unable to attend the first meeting, so I made sure to nominate her for president, and me as the vice-president. We made flyers and arranged for the other meetings. In the meantime, the word had spread about the new club at the high school. Mikos and Mark (Sheryl’s son) were being bombarded with questions about MAP.

We met with several interested parents, but they were skeptical of  the new club, so the few meetings that we had were pretty much a disaster. The goal was to form a network of parents, and as soon as we found out about a party, we would call parents to warn them. During this time parties were being given with the full knowledge of parents serving alcohol to minors. We were aware that at some parties an admission was being charged. I could not believe that parents were so irresponsible in allowing this in their homes. I would not be a part of this. Little did I know that our son was already in a pre-party-animal mode.

Mikos was 15 years-old, which meant I was the taxi. Once Mikos and his friend Carter (our second son) needed a ride to a friend’s house. I drove them and dropped them off at the  house. As I made my way around the cul-de-sac, I noticed there was a party at the end of the street. Mikos and Carter were still in the front yard of the house when I drove by. I rolled down my window and yelled, “Don’t even think of going to that party!” For sure my son would respect this command, as after all I was the VP of MAP. Sonja was in the back seat of the car, and she would never miss a opportunity to rat out her older brother. She said, “You know they are going to the party!” Carter and Mikos not only went to the party, and that decoy house where I dropped them off  was that of a stranger. That is why they were still in the front yard when I drove by.

Soon the the short-lived club of MAP dissolved due to lack of interest. Both Mikos and Mark were the talk of Villa Park High School, and this just added to their popularity and more party invitations.

When Mikos turned 16, we bought him a car. The red Jetta came with personalized license plates “Mikos” and was also known as the Mikosmobile. It was not even two weeks later that he and Carter were traveling on the 91 Freeway, when a Highway Patrol officer pulled them over. Mikos got his first speeding ticket. It was not until just few days before his subsequent court appearance that he would share this information with us. I accompanied Mikos to court, and as we were standing in line, I asked to see the ticket. Mikos hesitated, but finally handed it to me. My son and his friend Carter were driving 90 miles per hour! As much as I wanted to scream, “What the hell were you thinking!” I held my tongue. I told Mikos to get his license out and to put it into his shirt pocket because the judge was going to take it from him. The judge gave Mikos two choices, guilty, or not guilty. Mikos answered not guilty. The judge said, “Young man, I commend you for your response but hand over your license.” This was sweet poetic justice and redemption for all that I went through with MAP. Of course I had to pay the price and become the taxi for the duration of Mikos’s suspended license.

I believe that all that we were put through in these teenage years made me become the Holy Roller that I am today, and I thank God for family therapy as well.  Mikos followed in my footsteps and is the VP of sales for a (very) large organization.

Proverbs 29:17 Discipline your son, and he will give you rest; he will give delight to your heart.

Train a child the way he should go, and when he is old he will he will not turn from it.  Proverbs 22:6

Two months ago, this talk started about China. Mikos and Jenny had been invited to visit Tsingtao Beer Brewery in Qingdao, China. This was a trip of a lifetime with all expenses paid, staying at five-star hotels, so how could I say no to watching Maddie and Will? In the meantime, another storm was brewing with Sonja and Russ planning a trip to Minnesota to celebrate Russ’s grandfather’s 90th birthday. These trips collided to form the perfect storm of babysitting. My grandchildren not only come with real luggage but they bring their dogs as well.

Our grandchildren are involved in way too many things. Maddie has play practice, Will has soccer practice, Maddie has soccer practice, Will has basketball practice, Lucas has soccer practice, Cubby has soccer practice, and all at different times, and thank God, different days.

Day One: I was looking for the brush to apply my eyeliner when Cubby came running into the bathroom, saying, “Father Leonard fell down! Father Leonard  fell down!” No sooner does Lucas come running in to contest all that Cubby said. Cubby was jumping up and down, his already big eyes getting bigger as he screamed again, “Father Leonard fell!” Lucas was yelling at the same time, wanting me to listen to what he had to say. In frustration to calm Cubby down, Lucas slapped him across the face and called him a liar. I wanted to laugh but I was confused. Father Leonard is a priest and dear friend of mine; what were these kids talking about? I told them both to calm down and one at a time, to tell me what happened. Again the screaming over each other started. I got up and said “Show me!” They ran ahead of me and opened the French doors to the back yard; there on the ground was our fountain, the statue of St. Francis of Assisi not Father Leonard, with all of the guilty kids pointing fingers at each other. There were no sibling alliances; it was every man for himself.  Just like the authors of the four Gospels, the kids all had their own version as to what happened. Only God knows the truth, and on judgement day the truth will be revealed, with God determining the guilty party. I thanked God no one was injured.

St. Francis suffered a blow to the head, leaving parts of his cerebellum in the shrubs.

This fountain weighs about 300 pounds, and Maddie and I had to put it together before Papa got home. This was difficult job because we had to connect the tubes for the water.  Lucas helped with the tubes while Will and Cubby nervously watched. With a lot of heave-hos, we did it! Once St. Francis was up and running, we noticed more damage, so I made those rug rats look for the parts that were missing.

Hours passed and we had a project to complete. St. Norbert Parish’s, filling  backpacks was under way. I picked up two backpacks for us to fill. Maddie spearheaded the project by checking and comparing prices for school supplies, and found that Target had the best prices. We loaded up the SUV while Maddie separated the items to be purchased into two groups. Will and Lucas were team one and Maddie and Jacob team two. It did not take long before Will and Lucas started acting up and running around like wild boars. After a few threats, they sorta of calmed down. A woman and her daughter looked at us like we had the plague, Maddie overheard them say, “Here they come, let’s go another direction.” I so much wanted to explain that these kids were not my children, but they disappeared from my view.

We got home and completed the loving project. Lucas came to me later and asked, “Grandma, who’s going to pay us back for all the stuff we bought?” I reminded Lucas that we did this for Jesus and that He always pays us back in different ways. I told Lucas that a sweet lady, Doris from our  ministry blessed me with a generous amount of birthday money, and we used that blessing to fill the backpacks.

We waited several days to tell Papa about the fountain, as the kids  were terrified to face Mike. I can’t blame them, because  Mike gets upset about half-full bottles of water all over the house and is always yelling, “Is anyone watching those kids?” It is never a good time to break bad news but I had to tell Mike. He was his usual self, at first a little angry, then he thanked me for telling him.

^“Even a child is known by his doings, whether his work be pure, and whether it be right.” Proverbs 20:11