Skip to main content

Epiphany

Today is the Feast of the Epiphany.  At the Mass I participated in, the priest pointed out that "ephiphany" has to do with a revealing, seeing something that you'd forgotten, missed, or didn't know was there.

My weekend was rather ephiphanal.  As a mom,  it has been my experience that there are times when I don't like my kids and they don't like me.  That doesn't mean I don't love them; it is just that I don't like 'em.  Tallest Son and I have spent the better part of the last five years sparring.  He has been - at times - insufferable and intolerable.  I've wanted to give up.

This weekend, he was my traveling companion, and we spent time with my mom, whom I don't get to see nearly as much as I'd like.  He was a pleasure to be with, a great companion, lovely and sweet to my mom, and fun to chat with over meals.  I'd nearly forgotten these things about him over the past few years, when teenage angst, metal music, and a lot of immaturity seemed to rule his psyche and our relationship.  (For the record, I know I've been a pain as well.  However, both Tallest Son and I would agree that the bulk of the horribleness has been on him.)

Two things:  first, if you are a parent, the lesson is, 'don't kill 'em, they will typically come around.'  In fact, I thanked my mom for not allowing me to kill Tallest Son, when she'd "talked me down" a couple of times when I thought all hope and patience was lost.  Second, the next time you're having a fight with God, remember this teenage drama.  Just as my son is starting to realize, I do have a bit of wisdom and experience to share with him.  While I am certainly not the Almighty, Son is beginning to see that Mom might just know something, and it might be valuable to him.  God knows you and me, and His vision for us is always the best.  Sometimes, we just throw a little teen drama at Him, and miss what He has to reveal to us.  Give yourself a moment this week to see if there is something there that you are missing.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Trying to "end run" God

If you're a football fan, you know what an end run is. From Merriam-Webster:
a football play in which the ballcarrier attempts to run wide around the end of the line We try to "end run" God a lot. I do. I figure I know better. I've got this - no need to worry the Big Guy about such a trivial thing.

Of course, it never works.

Like the puppy above, when we try and evade the tough obstacle (even though we KNOW we will eventually have to do it), we end up - well, off in the bushes.

But oh! How I wished my way worked. I'd love to take a flying leap and land smoothly and gracefully. People would be in awe, as if watching Simone Biles nail a balance beam routine that no one else would even attempt. I would shyly look down and blush - just lightly - and acknowledge (But humbly! Oh so humbly!) my achievement.

But no: I am the one pulling myself out of the bushes, scratches all over my legs and twigs in my hair. I'd hear that gentle but loving voice of God saying, &quo…

Trauma Mama

Dear Husband and I both enjoy certain medical shows, such as "ER" and "Code Black." ("St. Elsewhere" was another fave!) These shows revolve around trauma: humans who'd been ambushed by life: a car accident, a fire, and abuse, as examples.

More often than not, these shows also highlight the trauma the doctors and nurses needed to deal with. Having a patient die is always offensive to a doctor: they are charged with saving lives and losing one is the ultimate failure. Nurses spend more time with patients, and can forge strong bonds with people that may be in their lives for just a few days.

But trauma doesn't always look like a bloody body being wheeled into an emergency room, or a house surrounded by fire trucks and police cars. Trauma comes in many forms.

According to one website, trauma can look like surgery. It can look like moving. Trauma can be losing a beloved spouse or more horrifying, a child. Trauma can also be chronic pain, loneliness, m…

Be Brave

A few years ago, it came to my attention that a young family member was struggling with anxiety and depression. I was able to share with her a bit of my own struggles, and let her know she wasn't alone.

A few weeks after our talk, I saw the movie, "Brave." It struck me that the young protagonist, Merida, modeled a great quality. She was indeed brave.

Being brave is not about recklessness. It is not about confidence. It's not about being foolish, or looking for glory in the eyes of others.

Bravery is about doing what is right, even when you are a quivering mess. It's about knowing that things may not turn out the way you expected, but forging ahead anyway. Being brave is standing by the hospital bed while a loved one is dying, and all you really want to do is turn back time. Bravery is standing up to a bully, when your legs are screaming for you to run. Brave is doing what needs to be done even when you're scared and tired and feeling helpless and hopeless.

I …