The tree trimmers were set to come on Tuesday to prepare our house for painting. Long before the COVID-19 hit, Mike and I had already picked out colors for the exterior; but when the world changed, we stopped dead in our tracks. Now we have another concern, so we’ve have postponed painting the house once again. Since the stay-at-home order, we have been having breakfast, lunch and dinner at home. In late April, while we were having breakfast, Mike noticed a hummingbird sitting in her nest. Just a few feet away from our patio door, the little bird carefully wove the smallest nest in our bougainvillea. Believe me, this was one of the most exciting events we witnessed during this shut in!
Hadassah
I named her Hadassah, and from a careful distance I took several pictures of the soon-to-be mother. Mike rescheduled the house painting but forgot about Hadassah. The tree trimmer showed up during our dinner (we eat early). I had just swallowed a bite of my dinner when I looked out the kitchen window and saw Mike motioning to the tree trimmers about the bougainvillea. I waited until the tree guy left and explained to Mike that we could not allow the hummingbird’s nest to be destroyed. We changed all our plans because this little mama was going to hatch some tiny mini-hummingbirds. I was delighted that Mike agreed to protect the mama bird.
Me, Sonja and Mikos
Two
As a mother of two grown adults, I will drop everything if my kids need me. I am constantly praying for my family and they both know they can come to me, especially for spiritual guidance. Of course by that I mean in a Christian sense, with God as my guide. Whenever they have something heavy on their hearts, I direct them to the Bible for answers. I no longer take the initiative and give definite answers without praying first. I’m very guarded about this because I have learned the hard way. If you respond, without prayer guidance, and if it does not workout you deserve the blame. Mothers have a burden for their children, no matter what age they are; we are spiritually connected to them forever. The Holy Spirit always reveals to us moms when or kids are hurting.
The Spiritual Bond
A mother is spiritually connected to her children for the rest of their lives. I don’t care how old your child is, you will always have that bond. I was never an overprotective “helicopter mom” because both of our children were too strong-willed to put up with that behavior. I had to use the back roads to find out what our kids were up to. One of my famous tactics was to snoop in their rooms. If they were up to no good, I was going to find out. This was the time that I was vacillating from one Christian church to another. I felt that I was being led by God. Boy, was I wrong about that! During this time I had to learn to trust God and pray. Sometimes I not only prayed up a storm but a hurricane. That’s all I knew to do. God was slowly developing me into a matriarch and my backbone was finally being formed.
Prayer Warrior
I became a prayer warrior. Two things happen when your kids go sideways: 1. You go into battle for them; and 2. you give in and watch them fall into the abyss of life. When a mother prays, things happen in the atmosphere. Her prayers reach the throne of God. It’s the bond that connects a mother and child because the mother will forever pray for that child. When a mother prays, she does not look at the situation as the world does; but she sees her child whole. Saint Monica never stopped praying for her son St. Augustine. He would never have become one of the greatest bishops, let alone a saint in the Roman Catholic Church. God has a plan for all of our children, and a mother’s job is to pray it through (Jeremiah 1:5). Our work is never complete because they will always need our prayers. I thank God that He directed us to the proper therapist to help us with our kids because I needed help as well. These actions were all led by prayer.
Helicopter Moms
Jenny, Maddie and Will
Helicopter moms are well-meaning, but they do not understand the damage they are causing. Forcing your kids to join clubs so that it will look good on transcripts is not teaching your child to be a volunteer. Teach your child to love God first and everything else will fall into place. For years we made sandwiches for Skid Row in my home. A young man helped out just one time, but it was one of the few times I took a photograph. Years later I posted the photo on Facebook. By this time the young man was filling out college applications, so his mother called me and wanted me to state that he was a regular volunteer. I told her that I would not lie, but clearly she could. Helicopter moms take drastic measures to see that their kids don’t miss out. They push their kids to the edge of a high cliff and wonder why they fall. Look at the mess those Hollywood parents got themselves into. They got caught, but I guarantee there are other parents who are still using back doors to get their kids into the finest colleges. It never pays to lie. One thing will always remain true: lies are always exposed, and the truth still sets us free.
Sonja, Jacob and Lucas
Grandma’s Role
Grandmothers are seasoned mothers. When our children get married, we must cut the cord. The Bible does not say that a mother and child become one, but it does state that a husband and wife become one. We may not always agree about how our grandchildren are being raised, but my advice is to leave the parenting to the parents (I’m still learning that). Mike has kept me from so many confrontations with our grown children about their parenting. He is my filter. Many times I have said, “Can you believe your son/daughter?” Mike’s words are always the same, “Leave it alone.” He’s right. I want to become the grandmother who leaves behind the legacy of a prayer warrior. I want my grandchildren to understand that they, too, are part of my everyday prayers. Part of my raison d’être in life is to pray for my family. I am a normal mom who loves her family. Hadassah loves her family too.
Mother’s Day Prayer
Dear Lord, We pray for all mothers. May we always praise and thank you for the gift of motherhood. We were chosen by You to become parents, may we never cause strife between our children. Lord keep peace in our families. I pray for families who are not in speaking terms, heal their broken hearts and make them whole once again. Even though it may not be a mothers fault, allow her to offer peace by apologizing. One kind act of love covers much pain. Amen.
I’m resurrecting an old story that was introduced three years ago.
Isaiah 43:1-2New American Bible (Revised Edition) (NABRE)
1 But now, thus says the Lord, who created you, Jacob, and formed you, Israel: Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name: you are mine. 2 When you pass through waters, I will be with you; through rivers, you shall not be swept away. When you walk through fire, you shall not be burned, nor will flames consume you.
Be Prepared
When we planned our first camping trip we purchased a four-man tent, along with all new cooking utensils and sleeping bags. We were excited to drive up to Twin Lakes with our kids. It was summer the of 1978, when Mikos was five years old and Sonja was three. We must have used one of our delivery vans because I distinctly remember it having one side- sliding door and seating for only the driver and one passenger. Our children traveled safely on a bed of sleeping bags; there were no laws against that at the time. We drove for hours until we reached the campsite. Two forest rangers greeted us at the entrance to the campsite. We paid the camping fee and were handed a flyer with a composite drawing of a rapist in the vicinity. I studied the face of the criminal, then dropped the flyer on the floor of the van. Great fear gripped my heart because of that creepy drawing.
Our brave captain
Camping Snobs
I told Mike that we were not there to make friends and I wanted to be far from any crowds, so Mike did just that. We could see campers from a great distance; so far this was a perfect plan. Our site was a long distance from the public restrooms, but I was fine with that as well. When night fell it got dark; this type of darkness was black, scary dark, so dark that you could not see your hand in front of your face. We had our flashlights and got into our sleeping bags for the night. I was scared of the dark and the rapist’s face on the flyer was still fresh in my mind. I tried to sleep but I could not. I felt like there were bugs in my newly permed hair. It was uncomfortably cold – so cold that I had to put on another layer of clothes. After tossing and turning, I finally fell asleep. Then I heard Mike’s voice, “Are you awake, Lynda? Are you awake?” Now I was wide awake. Mike told me that he was going to move the van in front of the entrance of the tent so that if anything happened, I was to grab the kids and lock them in the van. What did Mike know that he wasn’t telling me? I asked Mike why, and he told me to be quiet and try to get some sleep. Well, I was asleep until he decided to add more fear to this living nightmare. Every noise – the wind rustling, and the strange forest sounds – was amplified, making my life a living hell. By morning I was just happy to be among the living. It turned out that Mike overheard some campers talking about a bear sighting. Mike thought that we were going to be attacked. He had a medium-sized knife to fight off the beast. I knew this unfortunate aggression was real, and that the bear would be the victor. I’ve seen the movies, and I wanted to go home!
Mikos, me (the dead perm), and Sonja
I had just had my hair permed and, back in the day, you had to wait three days before washing your hair or the curl would come out. It was day two and I had to wash my hair; because of the imaginary bugs and dust, I could not wait for the third day. When Sonja and I walked to the showers, I had no idea that they were communal. You had to pay for the water usage: a quarter every five minutes. So in the middle of washing my perm, the water shut off! Could this get any worse? I wrapped Sonja in a towel and sent her out for more quarters. “You tell your dad that he better have at least five quarters!” As the result of this disobedience to my hairdresser, the perm went flat and I looked like one of the Beatles.
Family Fishing
Our provisions were scarce because Mike decided that we were going to live off the land. So in order for us to eat dinner we had to catch our own fish. We rented an outboard motorboat and traveled for half an hour to what seemed to be the perfect spot; however, I had to go to the bathroom, so poor Mike had to turn around and dock the boat while I used the facilities. We finally reached a good fishing spot and cast our lines. At first we waited and got nothing, then Mike got a bite. Mike caught a good-sized fish which would have been our dinner, but when he unhooked the fish, it was flopping all over the boat. The kids started crying. It was too much for these city slicker kids to see the suffering and torment of the poor creature. “Please Daddy, please put it back! Put it back!” they cried. Mike set the fish free, and we had eggs for dinner. Thank God, because the last thing I wanted to see was fish guts.
Kum Ba Ya
I tried to keep the inside of the tent tidy but the dust and insects won, beating me into near insanity. Remember that I requested to be away from the maddening crowd; well, that didn’t work out so well either. Each night, while I prayed for morning to come, we could hear singing and laughing . Now I longed for camping friends, but it was too late in the game for that. I never experienced campfire talk first hand, scary ghost stories (I was living it), nor the singing of Kum Ba Ya. From a distance we could hear the other campers, and by the scent from their camp fires, they were probably eating s’mores. We roasted some hot dogs and went to bed. After a while the laughter and singing annoyed me. I wanted to sing and eat s’mores, but we were camping snobs.
Take Me Home
For years I could not understand how people enjoyed camping. The stillness of the night was an unsettling reminder of how vulnerable we were. The ferocious bears, and the eerie sounds of birds was like being in a haunted forest. The best part of this trip was packing up and staying at a hotel the last night.
Looking back at this vacation I wonder how we could have allowed our kids to ride in the back on sleeping bags. Mike and I were slowly coming out of our Hippie days, so things like that did not matter. Nowadays any trips with children are planned to make sure that they are entertained the entire trip. I can not back out of my driveway without the secure sound of the clicking of my grandchildren’s seatbelts. It may be safer now, but even though it was unsafe the old way, it was a lot more adventuresome.
I thank God that nothing happened to us and that we lived to tell about one of the two camping trips we experienced. But I will never forget this trip, and no one in the world could ever convince me that camping is a vacation. The spirit of fear has finally left me, but I’m still not ready for another camping trip.
If you look at the icon from My Catholic Roots Are Showing you will notice that it’s a fruitless, bare tree. When I first started this blog three years ago, I wanted to concentrate on the roots of a tree, and, at the time, this image was one of the few trees with roots available. The blog is growing and yielding good fruit. In a subtle manner it’s reaching out to others and spreading the Word of God. So I decided it was time to add fruit to the tree and to spread more seeds of love (this project is still in the works).
The first crop
I did not want just any fruit tree; I wanted a tree that produced an abundance of seeds. The pomegranate is what I had in mind. I remember when eating this fruit as a child, and our mom would always warn us not to get the juice on our clothes because it would leave a permanent stain. Though it’s a laborious task to remove the seeds, I love to eat this fruit. The pomegranate is rich in vitamin C, potassium and fiber. Now when it’s in season I add it to our smoothies.
The pomegranate is mentioned many times in the Bible. I was curious about the number of seeds each pomegranate contained and was pleasantly surprised that there can be anywhere from 165 to 1370, but the average number of seeds is 613. This is a symbolic number and one of the reasons it is consumed by Jews during Rosh Hashanah. The Jews believe that it symbolizes fruitfulness. There are 613 commandments in the Torah (recorded in first five books of the Hebrew Scriptures). Though it is a misconception that all pomegranates have 613 seeds, the rabbis may have had some spiritual revelation from God because this is the average number.
Sowing Good Seed
I always pray that my blog is sowing good seeds. I want to share the love of God to whoever has an ear to hear. In the New Testament the Parable of the Sower is mentioned in three different Gospels. This is repeated in the Bible because the Lord wants this message to be deep-seated in our spirit. On our path to salvation the good seeds are visible, but when we sidestep and get off the path, we fall into the cracks and like the seeds that are eaten by the birds, we get eaten by the world. We can represent that seed that falls on rocky ground when we allow others to distract our direction. This would keep us from developing solid roots. We can be the seed that falls among the thorns; even if we realize that we are in sin, we continue on this path. Or we can choose to be the seed that falls on rich soil, yielding a hundredfold. God gave us a free will; the path we choose is paved with good seed, but it is our choice where our seed falls. Did you know that one tomato seed can yield 200 tomatoes? This is what good seed can produce.
Matthew 13:8-9New American Bible (Revised Edition) (NABRE)
8 But some seed fell on rich soil, and produced fruit, a hundred or sixty or thirtyfold. 9 Whoever has ears ought to hear.”
Sowing Bad Seed
Bad seed can also yield a hundredfold. Once you open the door to sin you have rolled out the welcome mat. These seeds are like weeds; no deep roots but they spread fast. The Devil is out there spreading these bad seeds, and, as the master manipulator, He makes you feel good about sin. The problem with this bad seed is that it is only for a short season. Before you realize how deep you are in, it may take more than a simple prayer to get you out of your tangled web. This is where we intercessors come in; we come alongside you to lift you out of the pit you dug. We know the plans that God has for our loved ones, and that even if your seed has fallen on the rocky path you can still be redirected into the arms of your Maker. God loves all of us, not just people who serve Him. He especially loves the people who have been down that dusty road that leads to a dead end. In life there are good and bad role models.
Infamous Bad Seed
If you look to Hollywood for direction, you will be mesmerized with their looks, the glamor, and their wealth; but what they do not show you is their empty hearts. They work from the outside; looking beautiful is what has gained them fame, but they are shallow souls serving themselves as demigods. Of course not everyone in Hollywood falls under this gamut, but the vast majority do. Role models is their pseudo name, and, sadly, they reach the foolish masses. They tell you who to vote for, who to like and who to follow. Hollywood is responsible for sowing so much bad seed that their garden reeks of defecation.
Ephesians 4:14
14 We must no longer be children, tossed to and fro and blown about by every wind of doctrine, by people’s trickery, by their craftiness in deceitful scheming.
This is not the only place where bad seeds are sown; any parent can tell you that sending your kids to college can cultivate bad seeds that will spread like wild weeds. This, too, is a tactic of evil. Higher learning was meant to prepare and direct a student in the career that is best suited for them, but somehow along the way, many seeds of discontent are spread in the minds of the youth. If these students are not grounded in God, they will fall for every wind of doctrine. The Word of God is our guideline for living, and Jesus is our perfect role model. Jesus spoke to his followers in parables to help them understand life’s lessons. To the shepherds, it was the Parable of the Lost Sheep; to the farmers, it was the Parable of the Sower. This is not a convoluted message. It’s simple and straightforward. We are the ones that complicate the matters of God. All He wants to do is to love us and to teach us how to love one another. The Lord wants to develop us interiorly; spiritual growth starts within your soul.
My rose garden
Our Garden
We do not have a huge yard, but every year Mike plants a small garden. I get enough tomatoes for plenty of salads and once a year I make my own marinara sauce. I have fresh mint for our daily smoothies, and we always have fresh rosemary. Aside from my garden we grow roses; during spring and throughout fall I have fresh flowers that fill our home with the scent of roses.
My Quarantine best friend Prudie
Lockdown
I went out the other day to pick up some special, topical lotion for my face. Other than picking up fast food, this was a real outing. I was running two errands, the cleaners and the dermatologist. My neighbor Adele made me a mask, so I was well prepared. I just missed the dermatologist by five minutes. When I got back into the car, I realized that the mask was getting my glasses all fogged up. Because I was struggling to take it off while driving, I hit the curb. When I got home I immediately told Mike about the incident. “I hit the curb on my side, it wasn’t my fault, I was trying to take my mask off.” Mike did not waste any time to investigate the matter. He came in and said, “Everything looks fine, are you sure you hit the curb?” Then he went out again to check the passenger’s side; sure enough I told him the wrong side. My poor Prius’ rim was pretty scratched up. When Mike came back inside he said, “You’re not ready to go out yet!” I’ve been cooped up so long it was a wonder that I can remember how to drive, and the fact that my cat Prudie is my new best friend is getting scary! Please, Lord, let this be over soon!
