Last week, we shared Chapter Three of the terrific novel, Through the Open Window by talented novelist Anne Faye. Join us each Monday as we watch this incredible story unfold.

• Chapter Four
• Chapter Three
• Chapter Two
• Chapter One

Chapter 5

The sun streaming through my windows woke me up Sunday morning. It looked like it was going to be another warm day. That would be good for the party. I spent the morning doing some housework, and then Lady and I headed out for our morning constitutional. When we got back, it was time for me to get ready for the party.  I looked up the address on the internet. Mike lived pretty close to Forest Park. I was known for getting lost when attempting to find new places, but I figured that I should be able to find his house without too much difficulty. I showered and threw on a pair of jeans and a sweater. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and put on some earrings and makeup.

“What do you think, Lady?” I asked the only observer in the room. She cocked her head to the side and looked at me with her big brown eyes. “Yeah,” I sighed, “That’s what I thought, too.” I patted her soft head. “Oh, well, it is better than the sweats I had on yesterday. It will have to do.” I gave Lady some chewy treats. “I’ll be home later. You be good.” I grabbed my keys and headed out, wondering where this day would take me. It wasn’t that I necessarily found a group of six and seven year old boys intimidating. After all, I worked with children every day. Still, I wasn’t quite sure what to make of my role in this day. What was I supposed to do? I would have to just wait and see.

I turned off the main street and into a residential neighborhood. Mike lived in the historic district – a section of beautiful old Victorian homes. I had only seen the ones that were on the main road. I never realized how many more homes were set back on side streets. It was like entering a whole different world, taking a step back in time. Springfield was the first big city I had ever lived in. Coming from a small town, I suffered from culture shock when I first moved here. I was struck by the contradictions. Abject poverty and relative affluence lived nearly side by side. You could be driving through a fancy section and then find yourself someplace you wouldn’t want to be alone at night within a matter of minutes. It was just a matter of knowing where to go and where not to, and that took some time to figure out. Mike’s area was definitely one of the more privileged ones.

When I pulled up to his house, he was attaching balloons to the mailbox. His house was huge! It was three floors, with huge columns framing the entranceway. There was a fountain right in the middle of the street, surrounded by a garden! While I imagined it would be even prettier in spring, it was still breathtaking. Mike waved to me as I got out of the car.

“Hi, Lucy, I’m so glad that you came! A few of the guests have begun to arrive.”

I nodded, smiling. “This is some place you have here.”

“I told you!” he said. “I grew up here. The house has been in my family for almost a hundred years. My parents moved to South Carolina a few years ago and they left the house to me. When my sister’s ex-husband left her, she and the kids needed some place to stay so they moved in as well. I like it better that way. It was really way too big a house for just one person. Come on inside. I’ll introduce you to everyone and show you around the place.”

“Here. This is for Tommy,” I said, handing him the present I was carrying. “I hope he likes it.”

“I told you that you didn’t need to bring anything!”

“That’s OK. I wanted to.”

“Thanks. It was very thoughtful of you.”

We walked up the stairs and through the stately front door. There was a huge entryway complete with hanging chandelier and massive staircase with a gorgeous stained glass window at the landing. “This is amazing!” I said.

“You haven’t seen anything yet!” he responded. He led me to the right where there was a large living room with mahogany paneling. Our next stop was the dining room, followed by the den and the library. “I think the library is my favorite room so far,” I remarked.

“Yeah, mine, too, at least on this floor. My grandfather loved collecting books. All the classics are here. He had a number of first editions as well.”

I sank into a comfortable armchair and looked around at the bookcases full of books just begging to be read. “I could spend all day here,” I sighed.

“I know what you mean,” he agreed, “but right now we need to go find my sister and see what we can do to help. Come on,” he extended his hand to help me out of the chair. His hand was warm in mine – too warm. I let go quickly. “We’ll go to the kitchen,” he said nonchalantly, apparently oblivious to the sudden case of nerves I was now experiencing. “I’m sure we’ll find Sara there.” We headed out of the library and around the corner to where the kitchen was set in the back of the house.

“Mike, there you are!” a clearly frazzled woman greeted us. “I wondered where you disappeared to. All the kids are outside. Can you please go keep them entertained?” she pleaded.

“Sara, this is Lucy. Lucy, Sara.” Mike said as he headed out the back door.

“Hi!” Sara said.

“You look really busy. Can I help you with something?”

“Yes, thank you,” she pushed some stray hairs from her face. “Could you please open up the chips and pretzel bags and put them in the bowls.”

“Sure.” I went to work. “Do you want me to bring them outside?”

“Yeah, that would be great. It turned out to be such a nice day; we decided to have the party outside. We’re usually not that lucky in November.”

I brought the chips and pretzels out to the picnic table. I stopped for a moment to watch Mike. He was running around the large backyard playing football with a whole gaggle of little kids. I think that it was all of the kids against him. At least it looked that way. They were all trying to tackle him. He appeared to be enjoying it.

I headed back in to help Sara. She had me bring out sodas and plates and cups and all the other party fixings. “Thanks for your help,” Sara said as she joined me outside. “These parties are a lot of work, but the boys enjoy them so much. I think we are all set, though, at least for the moment.” She noticed me watching Mike, “He’s great with the kids, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is,” I agreed. “They all seem to be having a great time.”

“I’m really lucky to have him as a brother. I don’t know if he told you or not, but I would be lost without him. I don’t know what I would have done if he hadn’t taken me in after my husband left. He’s been so good with the boys.”

“Yes, Mike had mentioned that your husband had left you. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, it’s OK. It’s been a while now. I have the kids to take care of so I can’t really wallow in self-pity. I’m getting over it – trying to move on.”

“I know how that is,” I acknowledged.

“Mike told me you had recently moved here. From Vermont, was it?”

“Yes, northern Vermont.”

“Well, welcome to Western Massachusetts. I hope you like it here.”

“I do,” I nodded. “It’s really starting to feel like home.”

“Mike must like you a lot. He almost never brings a girl home.”

“Oh, we’re just friends. I hope you don’t mind that I’m here. Mike said that you could use another adult to help out.” I suddenly felt very self-conscious.

“No, no, not at all. I didn’t mean it that way. I’m glad that you’re here. I appreciate the help, believe me!” she smiled at me. I noticed that she had the same striking blue eyes as her brother. “Oh, look, there’s the pizza delivery truck coming up the driveway. Will you help me carry the pizzas over?”

“Sure. I’m right behind you.” The smell of pizza caused all the little boys (and the one big boy) to come running over. “Lucy, let me introduce you to the birthday boy. This is Tommy.” Mike rested his hands on the shoulders of a little blonde haired boy. “Tommy, this is my friend Lucy.”

“Hi, Tommy! Happy Birthday!” Tommy buried his head into Mike’s leg.

“He’s a little shy around strangers,” Mike said. “This is my other nephew Johnny,” he said. acknowledging another slightly bigger boy with brown hair and glasses. “Johnny, say hello.” Johnny waved as he starting eating his slice of pizza.

After pizza, it was time for presents. Tommy was clearly in his glory. He and his brother worked as a tag team, opening cards and taking the presents out of gift bags. Tommy was so excited! “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” he said to everyone there. “I can’t wait to start looking through my cards to see which ones I got!”

Mike had moved over near me. “Wow, he really does love those cards, doesn’t he?” I said.

“I told you! That haul should keep him busy for quite a while.”

“He’s a cute kid. They both are.”

“They get that from me!”

“You have quite a high opinion of yourself,” I teased.

“Ouch!” he said, smirking. “I think I’ll go help Sara get the cake ready.” He turned and headed into the house, only to return a few seconds later with a cake with a lighted number six candle on it. He began singing “Happy Birthday!” and the rest of us all joined in.

“This cake is delicious, Sara, thank you!”

“You’re welcome. I didn’t make it, though. I took the easy way out and got it from the grocery store.”

“Well, it’s very yummy. I love cake and ice cream.”

“Me, too!” Sara said. “I fully intend to eat another piece tonight after the boys go to bed! You hear that, Mike? I’m claiming the leftovers.”

“Not if I get to them first!” Mike retorted.

“You guys sound like my brother and I, at least when we were younger!” I laughed.
“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Mike said.

“Yes, I do. His name is Bill. He’s older than me by a few years. He and his wife moved out to Arizona a couple years ago. I don’t get to see them much.”

“Well, Mike is my younger brother,” Sara retorted, “and as much as he hates to admit it, I can still boss him around!”

“I just let her think that!” Mike responded with a twinkle in his eye.

Parents started arriving to pick up the party guests, and soon the party was over. Johnny and Tommy retreated to the den to check out all the new presents while Mike, Sara, and I handled cleanup. After everything was picked up, Mike invited me to check out the rest of the house.

“Come on, I’ll show you the part of the house I live in,” he said. “We can take the back staircase.”

“You mean you don’t live down here?” I asked as we climbed the narrow stairs.

“Well, I do, but I mostly leave it to Sara and the boys. I have an apartment upstairs. I converted what would have been the servants’ quarters into a space I can relax and work in.”

“Did your family ever actually have servants?”

“To tell you the truth, I’m not sure. I think my great-grandparents might have, but none that I remembered. We had free reign of the whole house when I was growing up. It was a house you could have adventures in! The boys have a good time exploring it now. They just know to stay out of my studio if I’m working.”

We stopped on the second floor. “This is where Sara and the boys sleep. There is also a second kitchen on this floor. I sometimes sneak down here in the middle of the night for a snack, especially if I’m working on a project and need some fuel,” he paused. “One more flight of stairs to go.”

“Welcome to my attic paradise!” he exclaimed as we got to the third floor.

“This is beautiful! Look at those windows!” There were three huge arched windows that allowed the attic to be bathed with light. It was a mostly wide open space with one corner used as a bedroom. The bed had not been made and was covered with clothes. Another corner was used as an office, and the rest of the room set up as an artist’s studio with works in progress all over the place. Up against the wall were some blank canvasses and shelves lined with paints and cans full of brushes.

“May I look at your paintings?” I asked.

“Sure. I’m just going to tidy up a bit,” he said as he moved in the direction of his bed. “I’m sorry – my room is a mess. You’ve probably noticed by now, I’m not a very neat person! I’m more of a clean-up-for-company sort of guy. I didn’t think I would be bringing you up here today. I thought for sure that Sara and the kids would scare you off!”

“Are you serious? They’re great. I like your sister a lot, and the boys are so cute. They couldn’t possibly scare me away!” I moved over toward the paintings. Mike’s art was full of vibrant colors. There were portraits and still-lifes and even a painting of a dog. The painting on the easel was of an old-fashioned city street. He had small photographs taped all around the easel.

“What are you working on here?” I asked.

“It is a painting of downtown Springfield about 100 years ago.” He finished making his bed and then joined me by the easel. “Look at these photographs. I made copies of them down at the history museum. Aren’t they amazing?”

“Yes, they are,” I agreed.

“It’s incredible to see how much life has changed in a century. Those people walking down the street in these pictures are just busy going about their daily lives. They couldn’t possibly have imagined the world we live in today. I can’t help but wonder how different the world will be in another 100 years.”

“It’s true. Life changes so quickly.” I pointed at the work of art. “ I love what you are doing with the painting. I like the bright colors you use. It makes all your paintings seem so warm and happy. All your work is great,” I added, looking around the room.

“Thanks!” He responded. “I hoped that you would like them.” Mike looked at me intently. Our eyes met. I walked away to go look out the window.

“This is quite a view you have here,” I said. From the window I could see all of their yard and most of the street. Some kids were riding their bikes.

“Yes, sometimes when I’m at a loss for inspiration, I just come here and stare out until something comes to me. It usually does. The natural light is great for painting by, as well,” he added.

I could feel his presence behind me. I had the sudden urge to turn around and kiss him. Where was this coming from? I’m not looking for romance. I’m not looking for romance. I kept repeating it over and over in my head. I forced myself to keep staring out the window. This whole male / female friendship thing was going to be much harder than I imagined.

“I was wondering if you would let me paint you?” he asked, breaking into my thoughts.

“Seriously?” I asked, shocked. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather paint my dog? I’d be happy to bring her over for you. I’m sure that she would make a great model,” I suggested, trying to keep the conversation light.

“I’m sure that she would, but, no, I’d much rather paint you. Standing by the window like that with the light hitting you just so – you have a very interesting face.” Hmm. Interesting face. I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “Would you let me?”

“Oh sure, why not?” I responded, not at all sure. “What girl wouldn’t want to have her portrait painted?” What on earth was I doing?

“Great!” he smiled. Stay right there – right where you are. I just need to get a blank canvas.” I just kept looking out the window, not knowing what to make of the whole situation. The afternoon had just taken a very unexpected turn. Time felt like it was moving in slow motion. I could hear Mike moving things around the room. He returned to the easel a couple minutes later and removed the street scene he had been working on. He placed the blank canvas on the easel, grabbed some tubes of paint and a couple of brushes, and then turned to me.

“Are you OK? You don’t look so good.” He looked worried.

“I’m fine,” I replied, not quite truthfully. “I’ve just never been in this situation before. I feel very self-conscious.”

“Do you want me to not do the painting? I don’t have to. I admit I get a bit carried away sometimes. I see something that I think would make a good painting and I feel compelled to get it down on canvas before it disappears.”

“I guess I understand that. It’s like with writing – when you have to get the idea out on paper.”

“Yes, exactly,” he nodded in agreement.

“Alright,” I smiled. “Go ahead.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“I’d like to take a couple photos if I could.” He held up a camera. The light will change quickly. I’m going to try to get a quick study done, but I’d like something to work from later.

“Sure, go ahead.”

He looked at me and the window, studying us both. It was strange how he looked at me. It was like he wasn’t even looking at me – he was looking through me – as if I wasn’t even there. “Here, try this.” He pulled over a chair. “Sit down. You’ll be more comfortable.” He walked over to his bookshelf and pulled down a book. “You can look at this if you’d like. It’ll make it easier to sit still.” It was a book about Van Gogh. “Do you like Van Gogh?” he asked as he sat back down at the easel.

“Honestly, I don’t know much about him, other than that he cut his ear off. I took an art history class in college, but it was mostly focused on Renaissance art.”

He took a couple photos and then he began to work on the painting. “I love Van Gogh’s paintings, especially his later works that are so bright and full of color. I try to use color like him.” I flipped through the pages as Mike worked. It did help make the time go by. I recognized some of the paintings, but many were new to me. Every now and then, I would look up a bit to see Mike working. It was as if he were in a trance, working with such passion to get the colors on the canvas. I had never seen anyone be in a zone like that. It was as if the whole world had vanished around him and it was just him and the canvas and his subject. I realized that was what I was. When he did look at me, it was as if I were an object, no different than the bowl of fruit that was sitting there on the table or the street scene in the photograph. I had the distinct feeling that I could be sitting there with my clothes off and he wouldn’t even notice, not that I was going to take that step, of course. It was an odd feeling, being there in the silence. Mike hadn’t spoken since he started working.  I wasn’t sure if I should speak, or not. I was afraid to break the spell he was under.

The light in the room began to grow dim. I could see the last rays of the sun as I looked out the window. I wondered when Mike would notice. He kept working for a few more minutes, and then he looked up at me. The spell was broken. “It’s getting dark. I should stop working,” he acknowledged. “How did you like the book?”

“It was interesting. I see what you mean about the colors. It’s incredible how much his art changed from the beginning to the end. I had never realized how young he was when he died.” I stood up and stretched. “I also never realized before how hard it is to try to stay still.”

“Yeah, when I was in art school, we had to take turns being the models. I never enjoyed it that much. I always preferred being behind the canvas.”

“Can I see the painting?” I asked, pointing to the easel.

“Sure, come on over. I’ll turn the light on so you can see it better. It’s not much to look at yet,” he admitted, “It’s just the underpainting.” Nevertheless, I could see the beginnings of what the painting would become. Mike had captured the light coming through the window and the basics of my face. “What do you think?” he asked.

“I’m not sure what to think – it’s definitely a work in progress.”

“You’re very diplomatic,” he laughed.  “I told you it didn’t look like much, yet. I’ll work from the photographs I took. It will get better. I promise.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t know much about art. I’m just used to seeing the finished products – not the work that goes into them.”

“That’s OK – there’s no need to apologize. It’s kind of like writing. You start out with a first draft, but then you keep working and working and eventually you end up with something that’s pretty good.”

“That might be true for you. If I was making a painting, I could keep working on it forever and it would never turn into anything but a mess. I have no artistic ability, at least not in that area.”

“See, so many people think that about themselves, but it’s just not true. I’m a firm believer that everyone can draw and paint if they want to. You should come to one of my classes sometime. Try it out. I’ll prove to you that you’re wrong.”

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer. Right now, though, I think I should be going home.”

“Oh, OK. Just let me clean up a bit and I will walk you out.”  I watched him as he washed his brushes and his hands. “I have to get the paint out of the brushes right away or else it will dry in them and then it is such a pain to try to get it out.”

We headed back downstairs. I could hear the boys playing. Sara was in the kitchen, drinking a cup of tea, looking at a magazine. “Hey, I wondered what had happened to you two. I thought that you had left,” she said.

“Mike was showing me his studio upstairs,” I answered. I didn’t mention the painting.

“Oh, that’s nice! I don’t go up there too much. I can remember how messy Mike kept his room when we were kids. I’m scared of what I might find up there.”

“It’s not bad at all. There’s nothing to be afraid of,” I reassured her.

“Would you like to stay for supper? We’re just going to be having leftover pizza, but you are welcome to join us,” Sara said.

“Thanks. That’s very kind, but I think I’m going to go home.”

“OK, well, thanks again for your help with the party. I hope that we’ll get to see you again.”

“Thanks. It was nice to meet you, too.” I turned to head out the front door. Mike followed behind me.

“I’ll get the door for you,” he said as he reached to open the door. “Thanks for letting me paint you. I had a nice afternoon.”

“I did, too. – I guess I’ll see you at the library?”

“Yes, I’ll be there,” he answered. “Have a good night!”

“Good night.”

The door closed behind me as I stepped into the cool late afternoon air. I took a deep breath and let it flow through me, right down to my toes, and then walked slowly to my car. What in the heck had just happened? I honestly didn’t have a clue. Mike was one of the most inscrutable people I had ever met. He was kind and honest and obviously totally in love with life and his work. He had passion, a quality I had rarely seen up close. Most people I knew, myself included, just kind of meandered through life. He soaked it up, drinking it in. I liked being near him. His zeal for life was infectious. As much as I hated to admit it, and as much as I swore to myself that I wouldn’t, I was starting to have feelings for him that went way beyond friendship. Yet as I fervently attempted to remind myself, to him, I was just a friend.

I drove home. The radio in the car was playing way too many love gone wrong songs. I had had enough of those to last a lifetime. I turned off the music and listened to my own thoughts. Life was getting complicated. I hadn’t wanted that to happen. I wanted simple. I had moved here to get away from complicated. Why on earth couldn’t life be simple?

*****

Up in my room, I pulled out the small box in the center drawer of my bureau and opened it. There it was. My wedding ring – the reason life couldn’t be simple. I hadn’t been able to bring myself to get rid of it. I held it in my hand for a while, sat on my bed and cried. Lady curled up next to me. “Hey, pretty girl.” I petted her. “What am I going to do?” She didn’t have any answers but she did lick away the tears on my face. It was good to have a friend.

Join us next week for the next chapter of Through the Open Window.  Can’t wait for more?  Check out Through the Open Window at Amazon!

Last week, we shared Chapter Three of the terrific novel, Through the Open Window by talented novelist Anne Faye. Join us each Monday as we watch this incredible story unfold.

• Chapter Three
• Chapter Two
• Chapter One

Chapter 4

The next few days I settled into a routine. I would go to work, come home, go for a walk, and then write. I had to admit, I was enjoying it. The writing was therapeutic and once I got typing, I really got into a rhythm. I was meeting my daily word quota of 1600 words. Some days, I would even go over, typing late into the night. I was writing my story, and much of it was straight out of my life, but I was writing it the way it should have been. I was writing it the way I would have liked things to have been. That was the beauty of fiction, after all. I could change characters and events. Heck, I could even make my own character nearly perfect. Who said I couldn’t be drop-dead gorgeous with auburn hair and striking blue eyes? It was my world. I could do whatever I wanted.

But memories sometimes got in the way. Digging up the past meant the past was always on my mind. I would dream of Alan and our time together. In my dreams, we were young and he loved me. We were happy. Then I would wake up, and remember. And it would all come back.

*****

I saw Mike a couple times during the week at the library, but we hadn’t really had a chance to talk. He was busy writing. I was busy working. I did, however, make a point of checking the NaNoWriMo bulletin board regularly. I would post my totals and check the others that were posted, making a special effort to see how Mike was doing. He was catching up on his totals. He must have figured out something to do with that sci-fi novel after all. I couldn’t help but wonder if he had worked me in as a character. Was I really an alien? The prospect was intriguing. He had also left some encouraging messages for the rest of us. “Keep up the good work!” he wrote on several postings, including mine.

Saturday was a beautiful day outside, one of those rare November days in New England when the sun was shining, the air was warm, and one could get by with only a light sweater. New Englanders know those days are to be savored because the skies will soon be grey and snow could come at any time. I didn’t have to work, but I did have to run a few errands, including stopping by the library to pick up my paycheck. I was surprised to see Mike there. I figured he would have other things to do on such a gorgeous day. I decided to walk over and say “hello.”

“Hi Mike!”

“Hi.” He looked up, “Hold on just a second? I need to get this thought out before it leaves my brain.” I decided to let that go without saying the smart comment I had in my mind. Instead, I sat down and waited patiently.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “You know how it is. The words start coming and you don’t want them to stop. You have to get them down on paper.”

“Do you want me to leave?” I asked. “I don’t want to interrupt you if you are in a groove.”

“No, it’s OK. I’m happy to see you! I’ve been spending all this time here and haven’t had the chance to talk to you at all. I’d look in the children’s room and see you working, but I didn’t want to bother you,” he said. “I knew that your boss was upset with you the other day when you were late coming back from lunch. I didn’t want to get you in more trouble.”

“Thanks,” I smiled. “You can always come in and say hello, though. Rachel won’t have any problem with that.” He had no idea just how happy Rachel would be.

“So, what are you up to today?” he asked. “You’re not dressed for work.” I looked down and self-consciously realized I had on my bang-around sweats.

“No, I’m not,” I said. “I have the day off. I only have to work every third Saturday. I was just out running some errands. I stopped by to pick up my paycheck.”

“That’s an important thing to do.”

“Absolutely! Anyway, it is too nice a day to be cooped up in here.”

He looked out the window. “You know what? You’re right!” He closed his laptop. “Hey, have you ever been to Forest Park?” he asked.

“No, actually, I haven’t.” Forest Park was a huge park in Springfield. I had driven by it lots of times, but had never stopped in.

“Do you want to go? It’s one of my favorite places. I’d love to show you around.”

I was so surprised, I wasn’t sure what to say.

“Um, won’t your girlfriend mind? I realize it’s not a date or anything, but does she care if you go places with other women?” I asked.

“What girlfriend?” he countered with a puzzled look.

“Jennifer?” I said. “At the kick-off party, Chelsea told me that you two were together.”

“Chelsea doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Jennifer and I have been friends for years, but not like that. I’ve known her since high school and we do spend quite a bit of time together, but her boyfriend is in the army and is stationed overseas. She just hates being alone, so I take her out to eat or to the movies every now and then.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I feel stupid. I shouldn’t have said anything.” I got up and started backing away. “I should just get going.”

“No, don’t. I’m not upset with you. I’m upset with Chelsea. She should keep her mouth shut about things that she knows nothing about. I really would like to take you to the park. I’m going to head there anyway, and I’d enjoy having some company.”

I thought about it. Did I really want to do this? Did I want to start down this road, not knowing where it might lead? Was I ready for this? I looked out the window.

“Please. It’s a beautiful day,” he said.

“OK.” I said.

“Great! Come on.” He grabbed his laptop and we started moving toward the door.

He held open the door for me as I got into his car. The car was incredibly messy. It looked like a man’s car! “Just move that stuff out of the way,” he said. “You can toss it in the backseat.” I picked up several empty water bottles and old papers and threw them in the back so I could sit down. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting to be driving anyone around today. Usually, I try to clean up the car a bit if I know someone will be riding in it.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

The ride was short. As he drove, I looked over at him. I really liked looking at him. He had such a kind face. I even liked the laugh lines around his eyes! I liked his voice, too. It had a soft, soothing quality to it.

“How’s your novel coming along?” I asked, trying to make conversation.

“It’s coming along alright, now at least,” he said. “I had to scrap my original idea and start over.”

“Really? Isn’t that against the rules?”

“No, not at all. Sometimes, you have to scrap what you’re working on. Sometimes, you just can’t get it to work. I know people who have spent the whole month working on a project, only to give up on it the last week. Then they work non-stop for the last few days and manage to meet the deadline. I never should have tried to write a sci-fi novel. I’m not sure what I was thinking. It violated the whole ‘write about what you know’ principle that I usually hold to. At least I realized it fairly early in the month.”

“So, what are you writing about now?”

“You’re going to laugh,” he said as he glanced at me. I wondered what he thought of me. I really wished that I had worn something else. It wasn’t like he was dressed up – just jeans and a sweater, but he wore it well. I looked like something the cat dragged in.

“No, I won’t laugh. I promise.”

“I’m writing a story about the library.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. That’s one of the reasons I’ve been spending so much time there. I’ve been trying to truly get into the environment.”

“So, what’s happening in the story?”

“There is a librarian who is shelving books one day when an envelope falls out of one of the books.  She picks it up and finds a letter inside the envelope. It’s a love letter, written more than 30 years ago. The rest of the story is her trying to return the love letter to its original owner. It’s a romance and mystery rolled all in one,” he paused. “At least I hope that is what it will end up being.”

“It sounds great. I’d love to read it when it is done.”

“Hmm. I’ll have to see about that. I’ve never let anyone read anything I’ve written in these novel projects.”

“Really?”

“Really. I just couldn’t bear the thought of someone ripping all my hard work to shreds. It’s funny. I’m an artist, right? I went through art school where professors specialize in criticizing you to the point that you never want to pick up a paintbrush again. Even today, I know not everyone will like my art. It’s not easy, but I’ve built up a thick skin in that area. I can take the criticism. But with writing, I’m not that confident. Criticism would hit too close to home. If you read it and hated it, I would be so sad.”

“You don’t know, though. I might love what you have written. You could be the best writer ever and you’ll never know it because you weren’t willing to share it.”

“That’s true, I suppose, but I could also be the worst writer ever, and that,” he said emphatically, “I would rather not know!”

“Well, you are truthful. I’ll give you that much. If you change your mind, the offer still stands. OK?

“OK,” he said. “Look, we’re here.”

And so we were. We drove through the tree-lined entrance to Forest Park, and he parked the car near a big field.

“I thought we might go for a walk, if that’s alright with you,” he said as we got out of the car.

“Sure. I love to walk! It is such a beautiful day. We aren’t going to get many more like this.”

“That is so true. Winter is right around the corner.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me! I’ve lived in New England my whole life, and I still don’t like winter. I like snow. I think it is so pretty, but I like to look at it from inside a warm house while drinking hot cocoa. I hate the cold!”

“Well, we need to enjoy today then.”

We walked along quietly for a bit. Strangely, the silence didn’t feel awkward. I felt so comfortable, so safe with Mike. I truly couldn’t explain it. I hadn’t felt that safe in a very long time, if ever.

“The park isn’t very busy today, is it?” I broke the silence.

“No, you should see it in the summer – there are people all over the place. Even then, though, there is enough room here so that you can usually find somewhere to be alone if you really want to be.”

“How big is the park?”

“You know, I’m not sure, exactly. Over 700 acres, I think.”

“Wow, that is big!”

“Yeah, it is one of nicest places in Springfield.”

“What are those things?” I asked, pointing to some large metal sculptures on the side of the road.

“Those are for Bright Nights – it’s a big holiday light display that is put on each year here. It’s great! People come from everywhere to see it. It opens up the day after Thanksgiving, but it is better to wait until there is some snow on the ground. Then the lights really look spectacular. I take my nephews every year. They really enjoy it, but the truth is that I do, too. Maybe I could take you this year?” he asked.

“Maybe,” I answered.

We rounded the corner of the field. Mike pointed over to the left where there were some white trellises standing guard. “There’s a rose garden over there. It’s absolutely gorgeous in the summer.”

“Sounds nice. I’d love to see it when it is in bloom.”

“Yeah, this isn’t the best time to see the park. It’s really at its peak in the spring and summer, or even in the early Fall when the leaves are all in color.” Now, all the leaves were on the ground and crunching under our feet as we walked.

“I’ve always enjoyed the sound of leaves crunching in the fall,” I said.

“It is a good sound! I’m much more fond of the leaves here than I am when they are in my yard and I have to rake them!”

“I know what you mean! There’s a huge oak tree in my back yard. It was great in the summer. I would grab a book and sit in the shade and be as happy as could be. I’m going to have to pay for it now, though. I came home from work one day last week and discovered it had dropped all of its leaves. Now my yard is covered! I had planned to rake them today, but I don’t think that will be happening.”

“Well, if you’d rather be raking . . .”

“No, not at all!” I laughed. “This is much better!”

We continued walking down a hill and took a right around a corner when the path split.

“We are heading down toward the duck pond,” he said.

“Sounds good!” I agreed.

“There is something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Mike began.

“Oh? What’s that?”

“I was wondering where you are from. The other day when we were talking at the library, you mentioned you had volunteered at the library ‘back home.’ I was wondering where ‘back home’ is.”

“I’m from a little town up in northern Vermont. I grew up on a farm.”

“Vermont? That’s pretty country up there – very peaceful. I’ve often thought I’d like to build a log cabin and live in the middle of nowhere like that. But, look at me. Here I am in a city!”

“You’re right. Vermont is very pretty. I liked it a lot, but small town life can wear on you after a while. Everybody knowing everybody can be both a blessing and a curse,” I admitted. “My parents are still up there, though. I miss them.”

“So, what brought you to this neck of the woods?” he asked.

“I guess I just needed a change of scenery. I was looking to start over someplace where no one knew me.”

“Why did you pick here? I mean, I’m glad that you did, but Springfield wouldn’t be everyone’s first choice. There are a lot of other places in the world.”

“Honestly?” I paused. “I knew I wanted to stay in New England. As much as I dislike raking and the cold that winter brings, I’m definitely a four-season type of girl. So, with that in mind, I threw a dart at a map of New England to decide where to go.”

“And it landed on Springfield?”

“Yes,” I nodded. “Well, at least the second time. The first time the dart landed right in the Atlantic Ocean! I decided that wasn’t a good choice, especially since I’ve never been very good on a boat.”

He laughed. “I agree. I think that you made a wise decision to throw the dart a second time.”

“Yeah, it’s worked out alright. I was able to buy a small house on the Springfield / East Longmeadow line and I got the job at the East Longmeadow library. The rest, as they say, is history.” I answered. “What about you? Have you always lived here?”

“Most of my life,” he said. “I went away to college in Worcester and then did a year as a Jesuit Volunteer down in Philadelphia. Since then, though, I’ve been here. I commuted to UMass when I was going to school for my Master’s degree.”

“Jesuit Volunteer, huh? So, you’re Catholic?”

“Yes. Irish Catholic. You? I noticed you wear a necklace with Mary on it.”

“The necklace is from my Mom. She gave it to me on my sixteenth birthday. I’ve worn it ever since. I’m Catholic, too, although honestly, I haven’t set foot in a church in quite a while. God and I haven’t exactly been on speaking terms lately. ”

“Hmmm. I went through a stage like that, too, a while ago. The good thing about both God and the Church, though, is that they both are waiting and willing to take you back whenever you’re ready.”

“You sound like a priest,” I said. “Should I start calling you Fr. Duncan?”

“No,” he shook his head and laughed. “I did think about becoming a priest, though, when I was younger.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“I met a girl and fell in love. It was right after I came back from Philadelphia.”

“So, what happened to the girl?”

“Oh, she was young . . .”

“Well, being young doesn’t mean it can’t last. What happened?”

“We dated for a while. We had this incredible romance. I had never experienced anything like it, before or since. I thought for sure she was the one for me. I asked her to marry me and she said ‘yes.’ We planned to wait until she was older. She wanted to finish her education, which I definitely supported, although I missed her terribly when she was gone. I would drive to New York to see her whenever I could get away. In the end, though, it just wasn’t meant to be – at least not for her. She met someone else at college and married him a couple of years later. It’s been years but I’ve never been the same. I’ve never been able to forget how I felt when I was with her.”

“Have you dated since then?” I asked.

“Oh, of course,” he hesitated, “Well, to be truthful, not that much. I’ve never really met the right woman. I have lots of friends who are women, but I’ve never found anyone I wanted to have a long-term relationship with. My mother keeps telling me to find a ‘nice girl’ and get married. She has even been suggesting that I try an on-line dating service. I keep telling her I’m happier alone! Besides, I have my sister and my nephews to take care of. I’m certainly not lonely.” He looked at me with a pained expression. “I shouldn’t have told you all this. You must think I’m pathetic.”

“No, not at all. I know what it’s like to have someone you love hurt you. Sometimes it does take a long time to recover. I’m not looking for love right now, either,” I answered truthfully.

Mike seemed relieved. “Well, it’s still nice to make new friends.”

“Yes, it is,” I agreed.

We came up to what looked like an old house in the distance. “What’s that?” I asked, pointing.

“That’s the Barney Carriage House,” Mike answered. “It’s used for banquets. It used to belong to Everett Barney. He invented clips that could attach ice skates to shoes.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, he owned most of this land. He had a great big estate here. They knocked it down when they were putting in the highway.”

“If his house looked anything like this Carriage House, it must have been amazing. I love old houses. It’s too bad they had to tear it down.”

“I love old houses, too. I think that they have a lot of character. I always imagine that they have a story to tell.”

“You seem to know a lot about this park,” I said.

“I spend a lot of time here. It’s good to know something about the place where you live.”

We had reached the end of the park so we turned around and began retracing our steps.

“It’s starting to get cooler,” I remarked as I wrapped my arms around me in an effort to keep warm.

“Yeah, the sun sets early these days. We’ll all be suffering from lack of sunlight pretty soon. One of the few advantages of getting older is that the winter does pass more quickly. It will be spring before we know it.”

“You’re right! I can remember as a child, the days went so slowly. Waiting for Christmas took forever. Now, all the days seem to pass in a blur.”

“I know! My younger nephew, Tommy, is turning six this week. He’s been waiting forever for his birthday – counting down the days for the past two months. He’s having his party tomorrow. He’s so excited! He can’t wait to see what kinds of presents he’s going to get.”

“What does he want?” I asked.

“Pokémon cards, mostly,” he answered. “It’s his latest thing. They go through these stages when they are just obsessed with one thing, and they basically live, eat, and breathe it for a while. Then one day, they wake up and move on to something else. It’s hard to keep up sometimes.”

“Do you know anything about Pokémon?” I asked.

“Not enough to keep up with them! I’ve read this book all about the different Pokémon to them about a hundred times, but I don’t really understand the game.”

“Yeah, I don’t either. They had a tournament at the library a little while back. I watched the kids play, but I couldn’t figure out what they were doing. They seemed to be having fun, though.”

“Hey, would you like to come to the party tomorrow?” he asked. “It’s at one. We’ll be having pizza and cake and ice cream.”

“Oh, I think I’d be out of place, don’t you?”

“No, you wouldn’t. My sister’s real nice and wouldn’t mind having another person at all. You don’t need to bring a gift. Just come and keep me company. It would be great to have someone to talk to while I’m helping supervise all those little kids. Besides, you said you like old houses. I live in one built in 1899. I think you would enjoy seeing it. Please, say you’ll come.”

I thought about it for a minute. “I guess it would be OK. Another good reason not to rake! Besides, I’m a sucker for cake and ice cream.”

“Great!

“I feel like we have only been talking about me,” he said. “I don’t know much about you except that you come from northern Vermont.”

“That’s alright. There truly isn’t that much to know,” I told him.

“Did you go to college?” he asked.

“Yes, I did. I went to the University of Vermont for a couple years. I didn’t finish, though. My mom got sick and I had to go back home and help take care of her and help my Dad with the farm. She had breast cancer. It was rough going, there, for quite a while.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “That must have been tough.”

“It was, but thankfully she is much better now. She’s been in remission for about three years.”

“I’m happy to hear that. Did you ever get to go back to school?”

“No. Life just kind of moved on. It was never really a priority. I loved college, but I could never decide what I wanted to do. I took classes in everything. I enjoyed all my classes, well, except science – I was never destined to be in the medical profession, that’s for sure! But there was never one area that spoke to me more than another. I couldn’t pick just one to focus on. That’s why I like working in the library so much. There are books on every topic imaginable. Whenever I want to learn about something, I can just pick up a book and study. Maybe someday I’ll go back and get my library science degree. I don’t know. It depends where life takes me.”

“I think you should. Of course, I am somewhat prejudiced, seeing I spent eight years in college and now teach in one,” he said.

“Yes, I can see how you would be.”

We were almost to his car when it started to rain. “I’ll race you,” he said. We ran our hearts out on the way to the car. “Ha! I won!” I shouted a bit too enthusiastically as I touched the car a second before him.

“Yes, but I have the keys to the car!” he retorted, holding them up and waving them tauntingly as the rain came pouring down.

“Oh, come on! Open the door! It’s wet out here.”

“Oh, alright,” he said reluctantly. He unlocked the doors and we both climbed in. “It was funny to see you out there in the rain.”

“You have a poor sense of humor!” I informed him as I tried to wipe some of the water off of me.

“Here, I’ll put the heat on – it will help you dry off,” Mike said as he took off his glasses to wipe off the raindrops.

“How did such a beautiful day turn into this? It wasn’t supposed to rain today,” I mused as we drove back to the library.

“You know the old saying. If you don’t like the weather in New England, just wait fifteen minutes. It’ll change.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s true,” I agreed. The heat in the car did help. By the time we got back to the library, I was reasonably dry, only to have to face going back in the rain to get to my car.

“I’ll park next to your car, so you won’t have too far to go.”

“Thanks! That’s kind of you.” I paused before I got out of the car and turned to him. “Thanks for today. I had a really nice time – well, at least until the skies opened!”

“I did, too. I’m looking forward to seeing you at the party tomorrow. Oh, that reminds me, I need to give you my address. Hold on.”

He scribbled it on a napkin he had in the back seat. “Here,” he handed it to me.

“Thanks, it would have been hard for me to get there without this! I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said as I climbed out and dashed into my own car. It didn’t take me long to get home. It had been a good day, a very good day. Mike was different from the men I had met before. Of course, it helped that he really wasn’t looking to get involved with anyone, either. That made him safe to be around. Could a man and woman just be friends? That was the eternal question, wasn’t it? I admit, I didn’t have much experience in that area – at least not since puberty. I suppose I was about to find out. I was willing to give it a try, anyway. If things got too uncomfortable, I could always gracefully bow out of the relationship.

I took Saturday night off from writing. Instead, I curled up on the couch with Lady beside me and watched a movie while I worked on a quilt. I didn’t watch much TV – a show here and there, but I enjoyed my Saturday night movie nights relaxing with my sewing. My mother had taught me to sew by hand when I was a little girl – nothing fancy, just some simple stitches and a little embroidery. She could make the most amazing quilts. Mine were what could most kindly be termed “serviceable bed coverings.” My stitches would never be small enough, and my blocks were nothing if not simple, but I loved it. It took me about a year to complete a quilt, but that was OK. I enjoyed it, and my mother was always kind enough not to criticize my efforts. Like my mom, I liked hand sewing, the rhythm of the needle going up and down through the layers of fabric. It was soothing, relaxing and therapeutic. It was my artistic expression. I had never been good at drawing or painting, but I could piece scrap fabrics together and sew straight lines, and in the end come out with something beautiful and useful. That was a reward in and of itself.

I enjoy movies, too, although not as much as books. Still, a good movie allows you to lose yourself in the story. A great movie might even make a heartbroken girl believe in love again, at least for a couple hours. My favorites were old black and white classics – movies with stars like Bing Crosby or Fred Astaire; anything with Katherine Hepburn. Musicals were fun also. How many times had I seen The Sound of Music? I knew all the songs by heart, and that famous line “When God closes a door, he always opens a window.” My mother always used to tell me that whenever I got discouraged. It may be true, but somehow it seemed like God often made you search for the window.

Join us next week for the next chapter of Through the Open Window.  Can’t wait for more?  Check out Through the Open Window at Amazon!

Last week, we shared Chapter Two of the terrific novel, Through the Open Window by talented novelist Anne Faye. Join us each Monday as we watch this incredible story unfold.

• Chapter Two
• Chapter One

Chapter 3

The sun was shining when I woke up Saturday morning. I showered, got dressed, pulled on a sweater, and took Lady for an early morning walk. As she pulled me around the neighborhood, I could see the whole story playing out in my mind. It was like watching a movie. The whole novel was there. I just needed to figure out someway to get what was in my mind out onto the paper. I didn’t know if it would take 50,000 words. It didn’t matter. I just needed to get it out. If only there were someway to download what was in my brain straight to the computer. That would make life easier. That wasn’t the point, though, was it? The point was to actually go through the process of writing.

I got home and turned on the computer. Where to begin? I once read that the first line of a novel is the most important. It should grab the reader and leave them begging for more while at the same time shedding light on the story to come. That is a lot to ask of a few words, isn’t it? What if the author doesn’t know where the story is going? Thank goodness real life doesn’t have to come with an opening line. I would be in such trouble!

In my life, I had probably read thousands of “first lines.” Let’s see – “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” I think that was already taken. “It was a dark and stormy night.” Isn’t that the way Snoopy always started his tales? No, those wouldn’t work. I decided to go with the old standby – “Once upon a time.” I could always go back and change it later. Once I started writing, the words came easily. It was such a release just to let out all the thoughts and emotions that had been weighing on me so heavily for the past eighteen months. Before I knew it, two hours had passed and I had written over 2000 words. I was impressed. That was a good start!

*****

Monday when I went to work, I noticed the National Novel Writing Month bulletin board by the community room. A few participants had already posted their names and word totals. I scanned the listings to see whether Mike had posted his. He hadn’t. I decided to post mine. What could it hurt? I grabbed a scrap of paper and wrote “Lucy – 3200 words” and tacked it up on the bulletin board. Then, I headed off to the children’s room.

It was story time day. I love story time day. I run a group for preschoolers and their moms. The kids are so much fun. There is one little girl who comes along with her grandparents. It really seems to be the highlight of their week. That makes me feel good.  Each week, I pick books about a certain theme and plan a craft to go along with it. This week, we were focusing on pigs. I was going to read the ever-favorite Three Little Pigs along with Pigs on a Blanket. We were even going to sing Ten Little Piggies – a take off of the more famous Ten Little Indians. For a craft, we were making paper plate pigs, complete with curly tails. I always feel like I’ve accomplished a good thing when story time is done.

When I was heading out for my lunch, I noticed Mike sitting in the cafe area, working on his laptop. He was working diligently, typing away with remarkable speed. He must have sensed me watching him because he turned around and smiled. That smile – no wonder it melted all the girls’ hearts.

“Hey, Lucy! How are you?”

“I’m good. How are you?”

“Great! I saw your total up on the wall. You’re doing really well. I’m glad that you decided to take the plunge,” Mike said.

“Yeah, I’ve been enjoying it” I admitted.

“See, I told you that you would.”

“Well, the month is just getting started.”

“True, but I think that you are going to do just fine. I look forward to seeing more of your word totals up on the board.”

“And how many words are you up to?” I asked.

“Honestly, I’ve gotten off to a rough start. Writing science-fiction isn’t as easy as I had hoped. I’ve read lots of sci-fi. I thought I would be able to create a new world without much difficulty, but nothing is materializing at the moment. I’m only at about 1500 words. I have some work to make up. That’s what I’m doing sitting here, trying to force myself to write. At home, there are too many distractions.”

“And here I am distracting you.”

“Don’t worry about it – I like that kind of distraction,” he said. I couldn’t help it. I smiled in spite of myself.

“Well, I need to grab some lunch and then get back to work, so I should be going.”

“Do you want to sit with me to eat your lunch?” he asked.

“Won’t I bother you? I thought you said that you wanted to write,” I reminded him.

“I do, but like I said, this story is going nowhere in a hurry. Maybe talking to you will help give me some ideas.”

“OK, seeing that it is in the interest of keeping your novel moving forward,” I said. “Let me get my lunch. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“I’ll be here,” he said.

I went to the break room and took my lunch out of the fridge. I also checked my appearance in the mirror. Mmm. I straightened out my hair and pinched my cheeks. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any makeup on me to freshen that up. It would have to do. At least I had my favorite shirt on. I always thought the green in it brought out the green in my eyes. Why did I care, anyway? This wasn’t a date. He was just being friendly and trying to keep from working on his novel. I was a convenient procrastination tool, that was all.

I went back to the table Mike was sitting at. He had put his laptop away and was staring out the window. “What are you looking at?” I asked.

“Oh, I was just studying the people in the parking lot. Being a people-watcher is a good hobby for a writer. You never know when one of those people might make a guest appearance in a story. I think I just spotted someone who might make a good alien in my sci-fi novel. Everyone is fair game,” he replied.

“Even me?”

“Yup, even you!”

“Oh no. You’re making me reconsider having lunch with you.”

“Don’t worry. I promise to describe you in only the most flattering terms.”

“Good to know,” I responded. “Here, I picked up a soda for you in the back room.” I handed him the can. “I hope Coke is OK.”

“Sure, that’s great. Thanks.”

“Would you like half of my sandwich? It’s peanut butter and jelly, or maybe an apple?” I held up the fruit.

“No, thank you. I can’t have you starving on my account. Besides, I ate right before I came here. “Oh, OK.” I put down the apple and took a big bite out of my sandwich.

“So, what is your job here at the library?” he asked. Unfortunately, my mouth was full of peanut butter and I couldn’t respond. I motioned for him to wait as I tried to swallow as quickly as possible.

“I’m an assistant librarian in the children’s section,” I answered when I could finally speak again.

“That sounds like an interesting job,” he said.

“It is. I like it a lot.”

“You’re good at it, too. My nephews loved the Halloween party that you put on.”

“Thanks. It wasn’t just me, though. All of the children’s librarians were hard at work that day. It is fun to work with the kids. I had seen you with the boys. I had wondered who they were.”

“They are my sister’s kids. Her husband split a couple years ago. The scum decided he didn’t want to be a father anymore. So, I try to help her out as much as I can. I watch the boys when she is working.”

“Wow! Not many young men would do that,” I said.

“I’m not that young. Plus, I really don’t mind. I like being with them. They are very entertaining!”

“Yeah, the kids I meet here at the library are pretty entertaining, too.”

“I like spending time at the library. I love the smell of old books,” he said.

“No way! Me, too!” I laughed. “I thought I was the only one! My friends growing up always thought I was a bit strange for sniffing books.”

“Don’t listen to them! They don’t know what they are missing!”

“Maybe you’re right. Anyway, this is my first job working in a library. I feel lucky to have it. I was a volunteer in my library back home, but this is the first time I’m getting paid for something I enjoy doing so much. Most days it doesn’t even feel like work.”

“I know what you mean. Most days what I do doesn’t feel like work, either.”

“What, exactly, is it that you do?” I asked.

“Would you believe me if I told you I was an undercover FBI agent?” he responded with a straight face.

“Really?” I asked incredulously.

“No,” he laughed. “I’m kidding. The look on your face was priceless, though.” I tossed my rolled up tin foil at him.”

“So what do you do?” I asked again.

“Seriously, I am an artist. I work for myself. I also teach a couple classes at a local college and at the Springfield museums.”

“Oh, so that’s why you have the time to be sitting here in the middle of the day working on your novel.”

“Yup. I’m a lucky man!” he replied.

“What type of art do you do?”

“Painting, mostly. I do portraits, murals, still lifes. I’ve even done pet portraits – whatever people are willing to pay me to do, really. I can’t afford to be picky. I’m just happy to be painting and getting paid for it,” he paused to drink some soda. “I like teaching, too. It’s fun to help people discover their hidden artistic talent.”

I looked up and noticed Rachel looking at me from the children’s room. I also caught sight of the clock on the wall. My lunch break had been over fifteen minutes ago. Oops!

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I have to go. I need to get back to work before my boss kills me.” I hurriedly gathered up my trash.

“Well, we don’t want that to happen,” he said. “It would be horrible to have a murder at the library.”

“I’ll see you later,” I said as I walked away.

“I hope so,” he responded.

I rushed back to the children’s room. “I’m so sorry, Rachel. I didn’t realize how late it was.” I started sorting some books to be reshelved.

“That’s OK,” she said. “I saw you out there with the good-looking Mr. Writer Man. How’s he doing?”

“He’s doing alright.” I responded.

“He’s doing better than alright if you ask me,” she said with a smug look. “Are you going to go out with him sometime?”

“He hasn’t asked,” I answered. “We’re just friends.”

“Just friends, huh? You weren’t looking like ‘just friends’ to me.”

“Well, we are,” I stated emphatically. “I told you, I’m not looking for a man. Anyway, from what I’ve heard, he already has a girlfriend.”

“That’s too bad,” she sighed. “I suppose it’s not surprising that a man that fine would have someone special. Still, there’s no ring on his finger. All’s fair in love and war. I say that he is still fair game.”

“Rachel, you’re awful! I’m not going after another woman’s man,” I said indignantly as I walked away to get back to my work.

Join us next week for the next chapter of Through the Open Window.  Can’t wait for more?  Check out Through the Open Window at Amazon!

Last week, we shared Chapter One of the terrific novel, Through the Open Window by talented novelist Anne Faye. Join us each Monday as we watch this incredible story unfold.

• Chapter One

Chapter 2

I was shelving books in the juvenile paperbacks section when I looked up and saw Mike walking down the aisle toward me. He had a big smile on his face. In spite of myself, I smiled back.

“Hi! I’m surprised to see you in the children’s section.”

“I hope you don’t mind me stopping by like this. I was hoping that you would be working today. The librarian at the desk said I could find you back here.”

“No, it’s no problem! What can I do for you? Did you need help finding a specific title?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that. I came by to give you a copy of that book I was telling you about. He held out the well-worn book in his hand. “I had an extra copy at home and thought that you might be able to make use of it.”

“Oh, wow, that is really thoughtful of you,” I said as I took the copy of the book. “You didn’t need to make a special trip just for that.”

“No, but I wanted to. It really wasn’t any trouble.”

“Well, thank you.”

“Hey, can you take a break? Do you want to grab a coffee or something?” he asked.

“No, I’m sorry. I just got here a few minutes ago,” I lied.

“Oh, OK, then. Have you decided if you are going to come to the party Thursday night? I really hope you will.”

“You know, I don’t think that I am going to be able to make it.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” he said disappointedly. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around then. I still hope you’ll do the writing project.”

“I’m still thinking about it,” I said. “Thanks again for the book.”

“You’re welcome.”

I watched him walk away.

*****

I had noticed that my boss Rachel had conveniently made her way over to my section of the library so she could casually eavesdrop on the conversation.

“And who was that beautiful specimen of a man?” she asked after Mike was out of earshot.

“Oh, that’s Mike. He is the head of that novel-writing group I was telling you about,” I said. “Is he good looking? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Yeah, right. You hadn’t noticed. You’d have to be blind not to notice,” Rachel said. “So, what was that party he was talking about?”

“It’s a kick-off party for the novel writing month. Everybody is supposed to come dressed as their favorite literary character in order to ‘get them in the mood’ for writing.”

“And Mike is going to be there. He’s obviously sweet on you, so why, exactly, aren’t you going to this party?”

“I don’t think he is interested – he is just friendly. Anyway, I’m just not looking for a relationship right now.”

“And why on earth not? In the six months you have been working here, you haven’t talked about going on a single date, or any men at all. Now an amazing-looking man comes in here and invites you to a party and you don’t want to go? I just don’t understand.”

“I can’t really explain it. I just don’t want my life to be complicated. I’m still trying to get settled in around here,” I said.

“Well, if you ask me, your life could use some complication. I think you should go to the party. Having a good time certainly wouldn’t kill you,” she said as she returned to the desk to help a patron who was waiting there.

*****

Rachel means well. I know that. She is the closest thing I have to a good friend in these parts. She’s a few years older than me, married for ten years with two little girls. Her life is crazy busy, but good. Every time she talks about her daughters, her eyes just light up. I have to admit, I’m a little jealous. I would really like her life, but mine just didn’t turn out that way. Some people are just lucky, I  guess.

Maybe she’s right. Maybe I should go to that party. There will probably be enough people there so that Mike won’t even notice I’m there. Maybe I could make some new friends. Maybe I would actually have a good time. When was the last time I actually had a good time? To be honest, I couldn’t remember. It had been quite a while. Of course, that also meant I had to come up with a costume.

I arrived at the library a few minutes before the party was about to begin. I sat in my car seriously questioning my sanity. I considered putting the key back into the ignition and turning right around. But I told Rachel I was coming and I knew if I backed out, I would never hear the end of it. So, I gathered up my courage, and my carpet bag, and stepped out of the car.

There were several people at the party, but I saw Mike as soon as I stepped into the room. He had a straw hat, a torn shirt, and patched overalls with a paint brush in his hand. And he looked just as handsome as he had the other night in his pullover and tweed coat. He was talking to a woman dressed like Cleopatra. I should have turned and ran, but a woman dressed as Hester Prynne from “The Scarlet Letter” came over and offered me some punch. “Thank you,” I said.

“You look nervous,” she said.

“I’m a little out of my element.”

“Well, you look great!”

“Thanks!”

“I’m Chelsea. Is this your first time here?”

“Hi! I’m Lucy,” I said, shaking her hand. “Yes, this is my first time. Is it that obvious?”

“Yes! I had the same terrified look on my face last year when I came for the first time. I wasn’t sure what I was doing with this group either, but they are a great group of people, and the writing is fun. You never know what stories are lurking inside of you until you actually try to get them out on paper.

“Look, here comes Mike now. He heads up our group. Have you met him?”

Before I even had the chance to answer, she was yelling over to him.

“Hey, Mike, come over here! There’s someone here that you should meet!”

I could feel my cheeks turning red with embarrassment. If I could have, I think I would have sunk into the floor.

“Hi Chelsea! Hi Lucy! I’m so glad that you decided to come after all!” Mike said warmly.

“Oh, so you two do know each other,” Chelsea said.

“Yes, we had the pleasure the other night at the meeting,” Mike replied.

“Great! Well I can see that there are other people I should be handing out punch to. It was nice to meet you, Lucy, but duty calls!” and off she went.

Mike turned to me. “Wait – don’t tell me who you are. Let me guess! ‘Anne of Green Gables’ – right?”

“Wow, I’m impressed! Not many men would recognize ‘Anne!’”

“Well my sister absolutely loved her. She had all the books and the movies and an ‘Anne’ doll. My parents even took us on a family vacation up to Prince Edward Island just so Sara could see all the places talked about in the books. Have you ever been there?” he asked.

“No. I’ve always wanted to, though.”

“You should. Not just because of Anne either. It is just an absolutely beautiful place.”

“Hopefully, I’ll get there someday.”

“Well, you look great as ‘Anne,’” he said.

“Thanks! I figured with the red hair and all. . . I hated my red hair when I was young, just like ‘Anne.’ Somehow, being like her made it a little easier to take.”

“I’ve always been rather fond of red hair myself. It makes a woman stand out in a crowd.”

My cheeks were starting to match my hair.

“Thank you. I’ve always been fond of Tom Sawyer.” Did I actually just say that?

“Yeah, it’s a great book – one of my favorites when I was kid. Do you want to help me paint a fence?” he asked, holding up his paintbrush.

“No,” I laughed. “I think I’ll pass. I don’t want to get my outfit dirty!”

“Oh, that’s too bad . . .Well,” he said, looking around. “I suppose I should go mingle with the other guests. I’ll talk to you later. OK?”

“OK.”

He turned away, then turned back. “Did you get a chance to look at that book I gave you?”

“Yes, actually I read the whole thing. I brought it with me tonight to return it to you,” I reached into my carpet bag.

“Wow! You read fast. You don’t need to return the book. I told you, I had an extra copy. If you don’t want it, you can pass it along to someone else sometime.”

“OK, thanks.” I placed the book back into my bag as I watched him walk away. He greeted a few other people and then returned to his place next to Cleopatra.

Chelsea came back over to talk. “Mike is something, isn’t he? I couldn’t help but notice how you were flirting with him.”

“Oh, really, was I? I really wasn’t trying to.”

“You wouldn’t be a woman if you didn’t! Every woman flirts with Mike, and he flirts with every woman! But he’s spoken for. Cleopatra over there, also known as Jennifer, has claimed him.”

“I didn’t realize that.”

“Oh yeah, they’ve been together for a while.”

“Oh.”

“Hey, don’t feel bad,” she said. “Mike’s so friendly. He’s really easy to misread.”

“No, it’s OK. I’m just getting tired. It’s been a long day. I think that I’m going to go home and go to bed.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to stick around and meet some more of the people in the group?”

“No, thanks. I’m just going to get going.”

“Well, I’ll be hanging around the library during the coming month. I hope I get to see you!”

“I’m sure you will. I often feel like I live here!”

“Alright, have a good night,” she said.

“Good night.”

*****

When I got home, I took off my costume, put on my comfy sweats and curled up with my dog. I love my dog. No matter how bad a day I’ve had, she’s always thrilled to see me. She comes running over the second she hears me turn the doorknob with her tail wagging a mile a minute. I got Lady from the local animal shelter as soon as I moved here, both for companionship and protection, although admittedly she is not very scary. She’s all black – half Lab, half Terrier. She basically looks like a miniature Black Lab. Unfortunately, she also suffers from illusions of grandeur. She’s only fifteen pounds, but she thinks that she is a big, bad dog, especially if she encounters a cat, or a squirrel, or, heaven forbid, another dog, on our daily walks. She turns into her alter-ego, Ms. Barky. Mostly, though, she’s very quiet and sweet and unassuming, and she loves to be near me. She sleeps right next to me in bed at night. I have a dog who loves me. Why on earth would I want a man? No man I had ever met has ever been so loyal or faithful.

I was a bit relieved that Mike was involved with someone. However, I was a little disappointed, too. Despite what I had told Rachel, I had thought he might be interested in me. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at me like that. But, if what Chelsea said was true, and I had no reason to believe that it wasn’t, that was just how Mike looked at women. He was a natural-born flirt and I was just another woman to flirt with. Ugh! I knew I had no reason to be upset, but I buried my head in my pillow and went to sleep.

*****

The next day was Halloween. My task for the day was to help out with the children’s Halloween party. I had traded in my “Anne” outfit for a more traditional witch’s costume. The library was having a costume contest and giving out candy. I was reading age-appropriate scary stories and singing songs – “Five Little Pumpkins” anyone? It really was a lot of fun. Surprisingly, Mike showed up with two young boys dressed as “Yoda” and “Anakin Skywalker” from “Star Wars.” They both looked to be about six or seven years old. Were they his children? I wondered. He hadn’t said anything about children, but that didn’t mean anything. After all, it wasn’t like we had gotten into each other’s life stories. I was too busy to talk to him at the party. He waved and I smiled and that was all. He and the boys must have left when I wasn’t looking, because at the end of the party I looked around and they were gone.

Halloween night was quiet at my house. I bought tons of candy because I had no idea how many trick-or-treaters might show up at my door. In the end, I only ended up with eight. I suppose that’s not surprising considering I live at the end of a dead-end street. It was just as well. Lady barks like she is possessed whenever anyone rings the doorbell anyway. Of course, now I had an obscene amount of candy left with no one to eat it but me. Not a good plan; at least not if I wanted to retain any semblance of a waistline. I’d have to figure out something to do with the candy – maybe I would donate it to the library – we could give it out there for prizes or something. In the meantime, there were some Tootsie Rolls just calling my name. It was Halloween, after all, and what’s Halloween without at least a little candy?

I sat down with a notebook and pen. If I was going to do this novel experiment, I needed to come up with a plan. It had been a long time since I had written anything. I had loved writing as a child. I would make up stories with my dolls and then write them out. They led such interesting lives, at least in my nine-year-old imagination. When I was in sixth grade, I actually began work on a children’s book called “Fairyland.” It was about a girl who discovered an underwater world inhabited by fairies. I was convinced it was going to be the next Alice in Wonderland! I would work on it in school when I had free time. After about a month, however, my teacher said that I couldn’t work on it anymore at school. That was the end of that particular project.

As a teenager, I had filled up notebooks with romantic stories and teenage angst. My favorite birthday gift when I was fifteen was a beautiful journal full of blank pages. It had seemed so full of potential. I couldn’t wait to start pouring out my heart. That journal had been followed by several others. I had a whole box of them buried in the back of my closet. From time to time, I had considered burning them – one big giant bonfire of my past. But, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I hadn’t written in my journal since the day of the fire. In a lot of ways, I felt like my life ended that day. The darkness fell. That young woman with the fanciful stories was officially gone forever. Life would never be the same, but I was trying to start over.

I had hoped the move would be what I needed to rejoin the living. It had helped in some ways. I mostly kept to myself, though. I lived alone with Lady. I went to work. In my free time, which I had way too much of, I would go for a walk, lose myself in a book, or work on my quilting – anything to keep from thinking. It didn’t work. I called my parents every once and a while. I knew my mom missed me. She kept asking me to come home. She didn’t understand why I had left – not really. How could she? I had never told her the truth. I thought that maybe if I could start writing again, maybe I could bring back some of the person that I used to be. Maybe some of the pain could start to heal.

So, what could I write about?  Could I even find 50,000 words to put down on paper? The book Mike had given me said to make a list of the things you liked in stories and a list of things that you didn’t like. I suppose I could safely rule out science fiction. I was never the create-a-fantasy-world-on-the-fifth –moon-of-a-planet-to-be-named-later kind of girl. Maybe I could write a mystery. I liked mysteries. I wasn’t sure if I could figure out how to make the clues, however. Anybody with half a brain would probably solve my mystery on the first five pages. I also liked medical stories. I could go for a good hospital drama anytime. Of course, I don’t know the first thing about medicine other than what I’ve seen on TV or read in a book. I suppose that would lend a certain lack of authenticity to my tale. I also loved romances. I loved stories with happy ever after endings, where the man and the woman are madly in love and go riding off into the sunset. There is a reason that they are considered fiction. I never understood why someone would write a book with an unhappy ending. Life is full of enough unhappy endings. I read books to escape, not to be reminded of pain and suffering. I don’t know whether I could write a “happy ever after” story. I certainly didn’t have much experience in that department. Oh man, this was getting me nowhere. I was supposed to start writing the next day, and I didn’t even have an idea. This was going to be a losing effort if there ever was one. What on earth was I thinking?

And then, it came to me. I knew what I had to write about. So what if it wasn’t going to be exactly what one might call fiction. I would change the names. Who would know? No one was going to read it anyway. This was just for me and my heart. I went to bed. For the first time in a long time, I was looking forward to the next day.

Join us next week for the next chapter of Through the Open Window.  Can’t wait for more?  Check out Through the Open Window at Amazon!

We are thrilled to introduce our next online novel, Through the Open Window by talented novelist Anne Faye.

About the Book: Lucy Lyons is a woman trying to escape her past. Content to work as a librarian and live alone with her dog, all she wants is a simple life with no complications. When she decides to take the plunge and begins to write a novel during National Novel Writing Month, she gets much more than she bargained for. Her writing will not only force her to face her own secrets, but will also put her in the path of a handsome artist who shares her love of the written word. “Through the Open Window” is an engaging novel about second chances and the secrets we all keep.

About Anne Faye: Anne Faye is a homeschooling Catholic mom who writes from her home in Western Massachusetts. In her free time, she loves painting, quilting, and going for long walks with her dog. This is her first novel. Visit her blog at http://annefaye.blogspot.com

Chapter 1

I sat in the back of the room surveying my surroundings, clutching my notebook, desperately trying to fade into the woodwork. These people were writers! Conversations about plot concepts and writing techniques were going on all around me. What was I doing here? My boss Rachel had convinced me to come after I had casually mentioned seeing the flyer. I was in way over my head. I stood up to attempt a quick escape, but then the meeting leader came in and closed the door behind him. I was trapped. I slunk back into my seat and hoped no one noticed.

“Welcome to the National Novel Writing Month Support Group! For those of you who don’t know me, I am Mike Duncan, your humble leader and fellow sufferer as we travel through this grand writing adventure. To you gluttons for punishment who are returning from last year, I praise your bravery and tenacity of spirit. To you new members, I hope that you find this month-long journey as exciting and fulfilling as the rest of us have. At the very least, at the end of it, you will have a great story to tell.”

Mike was tall with sandy hair, a goatee, glasses and a kind smile. A couple of times he glanced in my direction and I wondered if he could see the look of fear in my eyes. He continued talking about the rules of NaNoWriMo. “Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to write 50,000 words during the month of November. You need to shut off your inner critic and just write. Don’t worry about the quality – just write. Try to get your word count out each day, so you don’t end up with a huge word debt hanging over you that you are trying to make up the last day as you type for ten hours straight, consuming nothing but pure caffeine!” The people around me nodded and smiled knowingly. “Meetings will be held weekly at the library to get together and vent or get help on plot problems you were trying to work out. Word counts can be posted on the bulletin board that will be left up outside the Community Room entrance. Feel free to share your progress with others. A kick-off party will be held October 30th. Come dressed as your favorite character from a novel as a means of getting into the literary mood! If anyone has questions, please stay. I’ll be available to talk after the meeting.”

The group slowly but steadily filed out. I lingered behind as Mike was gathering up his things. My first instinct was to run, but something compelled me to gather up my courage and walk forward.

“Hi! I’m Lucy. I work here at the library.”

“Oh, do you? I’ve always thought it would be fun to work at a library. I love libraries.”

“Me, too,” I laughed nervously.

“So, have you written a novel before,” he asked.

“No, not at all. I haven’t done any creative writing at all since I was in high school, and I’m sad to say that was quite a while ago. How about you? How many times have you done this?”

“This will be my fifth year.”

“Five?! Wow! Have you had any of your novels published?” I asked.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I just do it for the creative challenge. It’s like when people run a marathon. They train and train just to see if they can do it. This is like that, except I don’t need to train for a year and it doesn’t require as much exercise!”

“What do you write about?”

“Things I know about mostly. I’ve written about schools I’ve gone to, places I’ve worked. Except, in my stories, it’s my world. I can make people do whatever I want. I can combine people I know and make them into someone new. It’s really a whole bunch of fun. This year I thought I might do something different, though. I was thinking of maybe attempting to write a sci-fi novel.”

“Really? I have no idea what I’d write about,” I said. “I’m not even sure why I came to this meeting. I have to admit the whole idea sounds a bit crazy. I was actually trying to sneak out right before you came in.”

“Ah, I see. I blocked your well-timed escape,” he laughed.

“Yes, exactly!”

“Well, something must have drawn you here.”

“I don’t know. . .it just sounded intriguing. Part of me has always wanted to write a book, but I’ve never really felt like I could do it. Books have such power. I’ve always loved to read and escape to other places ― pretend I was other people. I don’t know that I could create a world that other people would want to escape to.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” he said. “It does sound intimidating when you put it like that. But that is the beauty of NaNoWriMo. Nobody is asking you, or expecting you, to write the Great American Novel. You saw all those other people in here tonight, right?”

“Right.”

“Well, eighty percent of the stuff that any of them write next month will be lousy, absolutely awful. You probably couldn’t pay someone to waste their time reading it.”

“Does that include what you write, also?” I teased.

“Oh absolutely! I have a drawer at home full of manuscripts that are mostly drivel. But every now and then, when I’m writing, I’ll get into this amazing zone where the ideas just come and the words flow and it is just pure magic. That magic makes all the drivel worth it.”

“Do you really think that I could do it?”

“Sure you could. Anyone can. There is no secret formula. You just need to be willing to sacrifice some time for a month to sit in a chair and write whatever comes to mind.”

“I still don’t know,” I mused. “I’m not even sure where I would begin.”

“Do what I do. Pick places and people you know about, changing the names and identifying details of course. You want to still have friends when the month is over! You’ll be amazed how a story will just start coming.” He paused. “There is a great book by Chris Baty called No Plot? No Problem! He’s the guy who came up with the idea for NaNoWriMo in the first place. He offers some really good suggestions about getting started and how to survive the month should you choose to take the plunge. They probably have a copy of it right here in the library. You should check it out.”

“Maybe I will,” I said as I glanced down at my watch. “Wow, I didn’t realize how late it was! I’m sorry to have kept you so long.”

“Don’t worry about it. It was my pleasure. I’m always happy to help someone get started on a writing adventure.”

“Well, thank you,” I smiled. “You have been very kind,” I said as I turned to head out the door.

“Wait!” he called after me. “Are you going to come to the party Thursday night? Whether you decide to try writing a novel or not, the party will be fun. When else can you get together with real life versions of your favorite literary characters?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“OK. I hope I’ll see you then.”

*****

As I drove home, I couldn’t help but think over the events of the evening. Did I really think I could write a novel? Did I actually want to try? What would I write about? Mike said that I should write about something I knew. Mike had such beautiful blue eyes. I caught my breath just thinking about them. OK, I needed to stop thinking about his eyes. I wasn’t looking for a new love interest. I wasn’t looking for love at all. Besides, a guy like that must have a love interest of his own anyway. Even if I went ahead with the project, I decided I would do it without the help of the support group. I didn’t want to see Mike again. I didn’t want life to get complicated.

Join us next week for the next chapter of Through the Open Window.  Can’t wait for more?  Check out Through the Open Window at Amazon!

Copyright 2010 Anne Faye

Thank you to guest columnist Mary-Eileen Russell for sharing the following Catholic Book Spotlight interview with Donna-Marie Cooper O’Boyle, author of the newly released Mother Teresa and Me Ten Years of Friendship.

Donna, as someone who was born and raised Catholic, can you describe some of the influences in your childhood which made an impression on you and helped you to persevere in the faith at a time when many of your generation were leaving the Church?

Thank you for this interview, Mary-Eileen. To answer your question, I was very influenced by my mother and her mother (my grandmother) growing up. They kept me grounded in the faith. My other grandparents were deceased by the time I was born. Of course, my father helped with our formation too, but my mother spent all of her time with her eight children and made sure we stayed on the straight and narrow while my father worked endless hours to support us. My mother prayed the Rosary with us growing up and my grandmother had many sacred images around her home. She also loved Pope John Paul II so much and had his picture everywhere in her home. She was Polish, after all! So, every time we visited her, we saw all of those images, pictures, and religious items all around her home. I’m sure it had a powerful effect on me – it has certainly stayed with me.

Your meeting with Blessed Mother Teresa, as you describe in your new book, was nothing short of providential. Can you talk a little about where you were in your spiritual journey at that time and how the meeting with one of the greatest saints of the 20th century came at just the right moment in your life?

God certainly had a plan. I couldn’t have planned any of it myself if I wanted to! But, as you say, the meeting certainly must have come at the exact time that God wanted it to. Of course, I never imagined anything was going to unfold from our first meeting. How could I? I merely took it all in and thanked God for it and then afterward, I continued on my way through the trenches of everyday motherhood and all it entailed. I have recounted how my life unfolded after meeting her in this book.

One of the things that struck me when reading your book is the connection between the spiritual motherhood of a nun like Blessed Teresa and the biological motherhood of a Christian wife and mother, like yourself. Can you tell us how the spiritual guidance of the saint helped you to deepen your own understanding and commitment to your vocation?

That’s a good question. I did see similarities between our vocations. I do talk about that in my book and actually in some of my other books too. I like to weave Mother Teresa’s wisdom throughout my writings to help inspire others. Mother Teresa was never a biological mother, of course. However, she mothered the world, really. She became a mother to us all.

Mother Teresa’s spiritual guidance helped me profoundly. I couldn’t even begin to express it. Her letters and conversations with me when we were together and over the phone too were always just what I needed to hear. I took all of the blessings straight to my heart and applied them to my life. I feel that our good Lord would like me to share the blessings with others and that’s what I try to do in my book: Mother Teresa and Me as well as in my other books.

It has become obvious that motherhood has become denigrated in our society. I think that books like yours, not only the new one but your past works, are helping to rebuild the sense of dignity that once belonged to Christian mothers. Do you think that there is a connection with Mother Teresa’s menial work with the poorest of the poor and the mundane tasks that are the lot of most mothers?

Yes, I agree and I speak about the denigration of motherhood quite a bit, but I always throw in a heap of encouragement for mothers today. I like to give them a pat on the back and lots of inspiration for their journey. Thank you for your kind words about my books and works. I hope and pray that they do help to rebuild the sense of dignity that was always an integral part of the vocation of motherhood. I am told by my readership that they are being fed by my books and that they are discovering the sublimity of their vocation of raising little saints to Heaven. I am heartened to see a resurgence of Catholic and Christian Moms who are taking their vocation seriously and devoting the time to raising their children properly and with love in their “domestic churches.”

Yes, there is a connection with Mother Teresa’s “menial” work among the poor (and you’ll read examples of this in my book) and the “mundane” tasks of mothers. The secret to sanctity and to true happiness is in seeing that these little acts of loving service are huge in God’s eyes. Many of the saints, including St Therese of Lisieux have spoken about the little things. I write about it a great deal. It’s those little things when done lovingly and devotedly that actually open the gates of Heaven for us and others!

Donna, you are a Lay Missionary of Charity. Could you explain what belonging to that confraternity entails and how it enhances your vocation as a wife and mother?

Yes, sure I will. Being a Lay Missionary of Charity is not being part of a confraternity. It is being a part of a Religious Order. It’s like a Third Order. It’s a call to holiness in the lay life, just as any other Third Order is. But the charism of this lay Order is one of seeing Jesus in everyone we meet which is really what every Christian is called to do anyway.

I’ll quote from my book here: “As a Lay Missionary of Charity, I lead a normal life as a lay Catholic person but with a specific mission and purpose according to private vows I have taken to live a life according to the charism of Blessed Mother Teresa. The lay Missionary of Charity Movement is deeply prayerful and imbued with the spirituality of Mother Teresa and the Missionaries of Charity. The specific mission of a lay Missionary of Charity is for the salvation and sanctification of our families, for the movement, and for the poorest of the poor all over the world. The vocation of a lay Missionary of Charity is simply to express to others by word and example the influence of God’s love, peace, and joy in our lives. This is accomplished throughout our daily lives and within encounters with all we meet. We are mindful of Blessed Mother Teresa’s words: ‘Love begins at home, in our movement, and in our family.’ We follow Mother Teresa’s inspiration that “works of love are works of peace” and that small things done with great love are very pleasing to Our Lord. Mother Teresa stressed that we should ‘be only all for Jesus through Mary. Let us be pure and humble like Mary, and we are sure to be holy like Jesus.’”

To answer your question regarding how being a lay Missionary of Charity enhances my vocation as a wife and mother, it’s the understanding of the call to holiness and the awareness that God is sanctifying my vocation as I give it all to Him. Of course, any prayerful person can achieve sanctification in their family, by God’s grace without being a member of a Third Order or a Lay Missionary of Charity. However, being a part of an Order has the benefit of graces attached to it, especially from the founder’s intercession, in this case.

You have had the rare privilege of corresponding with a living saint, living in your lifetime, that is. Donna, can you discuss the reality of being with a saint, and becoming close to a saint, as compared to the false view of saints that many people have? I sense that some Catholics regard saints, especially saintly nuns, as being unapproachable and remote. Please tell us how this is not at all true!

Certainly, Mother Teresa was a very real person with her feet planted firmly on the ground. She was knowledgeable about matters going on around her in the culture and the world. She had seen everything – from all kinds of devastating poverty and disease in Calcutta and many parts of the world to the lack of love and the breakdown of the family in the western world. She didn’t shirk or run from any of it – she faced it square on – not with her head up in the clouds – and she dealt with it with God’s love and mercy to each person she came into contact with. She was extremely approachable, immanently real. She was my friend, mentor and “mother!”

Saints were real people like you and me – all differing personalities and each possessing unique gifts. What makes them saintly is their desire to follow the will of God completely with full surrender. That’s what I saw in Mother Teresa, her full surrender to God’s holy will in her life. She wanted to satiate His thirst for souls. She has told us that we are all called to holiness and that “it is not a luxury for a few, but a duty for us all.” In all of our walks of life, we are called to be saints too. That’s what I try to get across in my book: Mother Teresa and Me.

Mother Teresa and Me Ten Years of Friendship
By Donna-Marie Cooper O’Boyle
Published by Circle Press
ISBN # 978-1-933271-28-6
Soft cover, 5.5 x 8.25, 192 pages, $14.95
Can be purchased at www.donnacooperoboyle.com, Circle Press, book stores & Amazon.com

Copyright 2010 Mary-Eileen Russell

Moms are busy. Most have very little time to dedicate to a solid fitness regimen. In fact, most mothers deserve an award just for showing up on the job every day. Taking care of the kids is hard work, and it’s difficult to find time to eat right and work out when the children are constantly in need of personalized attention.

So what can busy moms do to get in shape?

Get in Shape in 12 Minutes Per Day

Take 12 minutes out of every day. If you need to, you can even get up 12 minutes early. Most people can find at least 12 minutes every day.

There are several strength training routines that can be accomplished in just 12 minutes. Consider investing in a set of free weight and home gym equipment if you don’t already have some. The key to fast fitness is attention to form. When you are working out in just 12 minutes, you must perform each set of exercise you do flawlessly to get an effective work out. When lifting weights, take 4 full seconds to raise the weight, and 4 full seconds to lower the weight. This is critical to the effectiveness of a 12 minute workout.

By slowing down your movement, you take out any momentum and without momentum, only your muscle is working to move the weight.

Anybody can easily perform 4 exercises with perfect form in 12 minutes. If you add just 12 minutes of cardio vascular activity, even jogging in place, you’ll get fitter even faster. You don’t have to work out each 12 minutes consecutively; consider 12 minutes in the morning and 12 minutes in the evening.

Strategies for Losing Weight

There are many lifestyle changes that you can incorporate into your life that will also help promote fitness in time crunched times. When going to the grocery store, rather than drive around for hours searching for the closest parking spot, park in the one farthest away. You’re body will appreciate the extra effort it takes to get to the store and you’ll be exercising without even thinking about it.

Also take the stairs whenever possible, particularly if you are just going to the second floor. This little bit of activity will also act as a mini energy re-charger. Stairs are everywhere. If you are near an escalator, chances are the stairs are right around the corner. You might even have some in hour house. Have the kids climb them with you.

Don’t forget to engage the children in fitness. Take the kids outside for a walk, you’ll all benefit from the fresh air and extra exercise. If you are watching a television program together, commit to doing crunches or stretching on commercial breaks. By doing so, fitness becomes a game, one that will change your life and start instilling healthy habits in your children from an early age.

Steve Preston, President of Fast Fitness has been training and counseling clients for 15 years. He offers personal fitness training, metabolic testing and customized fitness and nutrition plans. His new guide *How to Build a Leaner, Firmer Body in Six Weeks* teaches busy moms and executives how to drop pounds and lose weight working out just 12 minutes per day. His guide offers individualized weekly work out routines and menu plans to help make life easy. You can read more about his guide and his other fitness guides and services at: http://www.fast-fitness.net

Christ the Lord: Out of Egypt: A Novel

Angel Time: The Songs of the Seraphim

I see now why her books have always been so popular!  She has the ability to “grab you” on page one and keep you until you finish the book and are ready for more.  I was fascinated by the main character of this boo, a young boy who took care of his family, and grew to love him even more as he grew into manhood.   Rice’s  unique style kept me enthralled as my hero was transported to another time to help some friends in need.

I very much enjoyed her vivid descriptions of events, places and the feelings of the characters.  She makes you part of the plot without being too wordy.  I am definitely ready for the next book!

The story begins in New Orleans with Toby as a very religious Jesuit schoolboy who loves to play the Lute.  After a very disturbing incident, he goes to New York and eventually becomes a “Hit man”.  He lives a solitary life filled with appreciation for literature, music and history.  Although he claims to be an atheist, he remains prayerful.  After his final hit, he is approached by an angel and is given an opportunity to make up for his sins.  He travels back to medieval England and saves a Jewish community.  The end leaves you ready to start the next book in the series.  I definitely recommend Angel Time: The Songs of the Seraphim.

This review was submitted by a guest columnist.  Have a book you’d like to review?  Simply email lisa@catholicmom.com with your recommendations.

10. Invite a priest out to dinner.

You may think that someone else is already doing it but that may not be the case.  Many diocesan priests don’t live in community and they may not get to spend much leisure time with their fellow priests.  Even a bad evening at your home or in a restaurant is probably better than a good evening with the finance council.

9. Send a thank you note to a priest for giving a good homily.

Whether you’re visiting a parish on vacation or sitting in your regular pew, if you hear a good homily let that priest know.  Imagine giving a 15 minute speech once a week to glazed donuts people and never knowing if you’ve had any effect on them.  There’s no clapping after a sermon so unless you make an effort to thank a priest for his homily, he isn’t going to know you appreciated it.

8. Refrain from using your pastor’s emergency number unless there is an actual emergency.

Yeah, he takes too long to return your phone call when you leave a message the normal way, but do you really want his emergency cell phone ringing when he’s hearing confessions?

7. Volunteer at your parish.

Maybe your pastor hasn’t returned that important call because he’s mowing the lawn, unstopping a toilet, or doing something else YOU SHOULD BE DOING FOR HIM.  His primary concern should be shepherding his flock, not ironing his vestments.  If menial labor is not a possibility for you, consider volunteering to fill a slot on the Adoration roster.  He needs that too.

6. Gift him.

You might have a hundred reasons for only putting $1 in the collection basket… the choir is bad, the building fund is a catastrophy, they keep the church too cold…  How about donating an item to a parish.  Warning: shameless product plug.  Right now you can purchase a chasuble from us and get a free clergy shirt to replace that faded one he probably wears.  You can also encourage your church to set up a registry with us so they get the items that they need.

5. Go to confession.

This really helps you more than anyone else but it also allows your priest to live his vocation.  Honor your priest and get in line.  The solution to short and irregular confessions times is YOU going to confessions regularly.

4. Learn more about the lives of saintly priests.

We’re making it easy for you this year.  Yeah, we have lots of books about saints but our newsletter subscribers are also being treated to a monthly biography of a lesser known priest who has lived a life of heroic virtue.  These are the priests that inspire vocations.

3. Pray for vocations.

Get a copy of that prayer they’re saying at your parish and pray it at home too.  You should not only be praying for new vocations but also for existing vocations.  Pray for your pastor’s vocation.  Pray for his faithfulness.  Pray for his spiritual growth.

2. Foster religious vocations within your family.

God might be calling one of your sons to the priesthood.  Don’t resist it!  Happiness lies in living the life God has planned for you and a life of service to Him is His greatest calling.

1. Give up criticizing priests.

Not just for Lent.  Do it all year.  Do it forever.  How is it different from gossip?  Criticizm wears people down and makes them less effective in their work.   If you’re really looking for change in your parish or pastor then consider doing some of the other nine things on this list.  Take this opportunity to say a prayer of thanksgiving that you have a priest to say Mass and administer the sacraments.

• Visit the official Year of the Priest website.
• Visit our Year of the Priest specialty store.

This article was generously shared by Ian Rutherford of www.AquinasandMore.com and is reprinted with his permission.

The best column I’ve read reminding us to care and visit the elderly and infirm came from Deacon Tom Fox, now a podcaster with Catholic Vitamins, writing as a guest columnist for Catholic Mom.   He reminds us, “visiting the sick, the elderly, the confined – and showing them the dignity inherent in each human being – that’s a part of respect for life… whether the recipient knows or understands or not.”   If you’ll notice as you read his post, I was so moved at the time, I left him a comment.  He more recently posted again on this topic at CatholicFamilyPodcast.

This topic is very personal for my sister, Shelly and I because we have a grandmother who suffers from Dementia.  It has been extremely difficult for our family to watch this once vibrant woman slip away from us while still in good physical health.  Granny was moved last year to “The Village”, which is the name for the Dementia Care Unit at her facility. She has made a marked decline these last few years, with it seeming to speed up over the last several months.

It is not unusual to arrive for a visit and find her sitting on the couch waiting for her Daddy to take her home, or to find her without much emotion or things to talk about. While it is difficult to see her living in the past, I think the days where she is very quiet are more difficult to experience. The dementia has robbed her of that spark that made her uniquely her.

Granny always had such a zest for life, so happy, always singing or humming a song – well, when she wasn’t talking about the Houston Astros or some other sports team. It is still amazing to me how much she knew about sports – specific stats about so many players and teams. And not just the Astros. She loved the Houston Oilers, the New Orleans Saints and of course my own University of Houston Cougars.

This last Sunday, I was surprised to find her in a pleasant, dare I say, happy mood when my youngest daughter and I visited with her.  She laughed as my Birdie crawled all over her trying to find the best place to give her lots of kisses and hugs.  If she didn’t know who we were, she didn’t show it for a moment.  It amazes me how she and the other men and women in her unit react to my children.  Their faces brighten with an amused look the moment they see us come down the hallway.  The days Granny is unable to hold a conversation, I simply let the kids dance around in front of her and her fellow residents.

Deacon Tom inspired me to think about the benefits Granny receives from each person who visits her, whether she remembers them or not.   I concur with his call to action.  Respect Life Month is a great time to make a commitment to remembering and supporting our elderly and infirm with the dignity and respect they so richly deserve.

Lisa Jones is the stay-at-home mom half of the blogging sisters duo found at Of Sound Mind and Spirit. A former family attorney and pregnancy crisis volunteer, Lisa manages a busy household of three children. When she’s not blogging with her sister, Shelly, she can be found sewing, reading and organizing Phi Mu alumnae, elementary school parents, and carpools to sports, dance, and swim.

Recession Anxiety: 8 Tips To Manage Financial Stress

The following post was recently published in the National Fibromyalgia Association’s e-newsletter, FMOnline. I thought I’d republish it since I still have substantial recession anxiety, and wanted to tell all Beyond Blue readers who suffer from fibromyalgia, that their site is a wonderful resource. You can get to it by clicking here:

Like most dinner conversations last night, ours was about Wall Street, the economic recession, and our course of action. As my husband, Eric, and I talked about what we should do in this financial crisis, it occurred to me that the same tools that I use for my general anxiety disorder can be applied to frenzy triggered by the economy: when you fret about losing your home, car, stocks, junk bonds, retirement savings, college funds, and everything else in the lyrics of a bad country song (truck, sorry forgot the truck).

1. Ignore Amy

The amygdala, the almond shaped group of neurons in the limbic system of the brain, is considered by most neurobiologists our fear system, and it acts like an ape or a how a human would have acted, say, back when we still had lots of hair all over. The adrenaline that you are feeling when you see stock exchange plummet is the amydala getting crazy, hosting a party in your head, whatever. I call my amygdala “Amy.” And whenever I panic, I tell her to go take a nap, that I can’t tolerate her noise and ruckus right now.

2. Distract Yourself

It’s not easy to quiet your amygdala, which is why the best thing you can do for yourself at times is to distract yourself. My mom knew the importance of this point when she knitted 100 blankets the year my dad left. For every occasion for about 10 years, everyone would receive an afghan as a gift. Until she stopped getting invited. (Just kidding.) This activity pulled her through the worst years of her life.

3. Surrender Control

The most uncomfortable part of a Wall Street crash or economic recession is the lack of control most of us feel. It’s contrary to our human psychology. We want to drive the car, or at least be the passenger in the front seat giving directions. But in an economic downturn, we’re not even in the car. We have no say on which rest stations we are stopping at. In fact, much of the time if feels like we are riding in the trailer hitched to the back of the car. With the horses. Admitting that we’re not in control can be somewhat liberating. Because the stock market is life: you win some, you lose some, and you don’t have a whole lot of say in the whole matter.

4. Know Thyself

This is a great point Eric made last night as we talked about a friend of ours who always freaks when the stock market dives. She sells all of her stocks and then invests again when they go back up. And she loses a lot of money in the process. Eric said, “Her problem is that she doesn’t know her risk tolerance. If she would realize that she has a low risk tolerance, then she’d see that she’d be better off in bonds and more conservative investments. Instead, she pulls out whenever there’s movement on Wall Street.” Just like every other kind of anxiety, knowing yourself can lead you to a path of peace. For us, since we’re conservative investors, this means eating a lot of spaghetti until we get a savings account, a cushion for health emergencies, in place.

5. Turn It Off

Just like I said in my post “8 Ways to Manage Anxiety on an Anniversary,” one of the worst things you can do for your amygdala, or fear system in the brain, is to keep the TV and radio tuned into the latest news on the recession–the new estimate on job cuts–to keep checking cnn.com to find out what the newest Wall Street number is. This kind of compulsive behavior is toxic for the obsessive, sensitive folks who are prone to anxiety even without a reporter telling them to run for cover. Treat your amygdala well. Turn the news off. Except for this piece, of course.

6. Get Greedy

This point may seem contrary to the others, but I have studied investment strategies, and think there’s logic to what Warren Buffet once said: “When everyone is fearsome, that’s the time to be greedy, and when everyone’s greedy, that’s the time to be fearsome.” What does he mean? If after you analyze your risk tolerance and decide you do want to keep some stocks in the market, then this is the time to buy. It’s the same sort of logic I describe in my “12 Depression Busters”: when the last thing you want to do is to get dressed and say hello to some folks, that is the time when doing so is more important than ever.

7. Do Nothing

If you realize that your risk tolerance is quite low or if you have absolutely no money to invest, you can relax and do nothing. A story I read the other day profiled a guy who threw away his PIN number so that he couldn’t check his stocks any more. Just knowing that downturns are part of the economic process for the reward of high gains–that you have to risk volatility to acquire any profit and that this is all the nature of the beast–can sometimes help you sit tight and hang on during the wild ride.

8. Trust

I often make the point in dealing with severe depression that you absolutely have to trust that you won’t always feel so horrible and hopeless, that you WILL get better. Part of successful cognitive behavioral therapy is trusting in that optimistic message. It has the power to pull you forward. So know this: the economy will run its course and the stock market WILL recover.

Copyright 2009 Therese Borchard, Beyond Blue at Beliefenet.com

Today’s guest column is shared by Marjory Erdman, author of The Little Pumpkins. Check out my review of Marjory’s great book here and enjoy her latest contribution!

I was delighted to help teach the sixth grade class this week for Faith Formation. We started class with a big question. Who is God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit? These questions of course point us to the mystery of the Holy Trinity, a complex subject to wrap your mind around even as an adult. The pivotal question was asked. “Who is God?” Most kids replied, with a straight up answer. “He is the creator of the heavens and the earth!” One student definitely had a perplexed look. Joe, raised his hand, and said. “I can’t see God. He doesn’t seem to be talking to me either, How do I know He is there? Let alone, three Gods in one!”

“Great question.” I said. “Let’s explore this mystery. We do have some proof of just how incredible God’s creative abilities are. Let’s go outside!” We all hustled out the door. I directed the kids go set under one of the huge oak trees that are towering around the church. The trees are practically raining out acorns right now, and as the kids took a seat on a patch of grass, I asked Joe to grab an acorn. “Joe.” I said “Take a look at that acorn, and try to crack it open. What do you have in there?” Joe replied. “Just a big seed.” “So, you don’t see a giant oak tree?” I asked, Joe shook his head no. Now look up at that giant oak tree, and at the acorn, somehow you do know that giant oak tree is there.” This tiny thing can some how be that huge tree. Right! Joe nodded in agreement.

“Everyone grab an apple form the basket on the step.” I asked. “We know in the spring time that this apple begins what appears to be a pretty little flower, yet that flower has the intentions of the creator God built right into it. Over the summer time it manifests into an apple. The flower became an apple and the apple gave seed then the process miraculously starts over again and again. Joe does this acorn ever turn into a peach? Does a peach ever turn into a pumpkin?” The kids all began to laugh and shake their heads at the idea of fruit turning into other things rather than what it was intended to be, was an absurd notion. “Then we all agree. God’s intentions do not err. It is good there is order in all these fruits, and in all God’s creations.”

“What events happened that led to God revealing His son Jesus and the Holy Spirit?” The kids responded, because the first man Adam and Eve sinned in the Garden of Eden.

Now let’s imagine a huge apple orchard (That represents the human race.) In this apple orchard some of the apples (people) decided one day that they wanted to be pears, instead of apples, some wanted to be oranges. The orchard began to argue, what fruit was greater, and better than the next. All the trees became sick and diseased, because they attempted to change into something they were not intended to be.

In the middle of the orchard stood a might ancient oak tree. (This tree will represent God.) The great oak tree had been there from the beginning of time, waiting and hoping the fruit would tell Him of its problems. The mighty tree waited and waited for the apple orchard (people) to decide to look up for help, but it was far too late now the entire apple orchard was completely sick… The tree loved the orchard and did not want to see the orchard destroy itself, and so, He sent a part of himself in the form of an acorn (Jesus). The apple trees knew that Jesus came from the mighty oak tree, to help them, and some of the fruit rejected the acorn (Jesus) and attempted to destroy it, however the obedient acorn continued to operate under the intentions of the mighty oak tree. The acorn (Jesus) had to give up his life, so he could be planted deep into the heart of the orchard into the soil, to give hope and order back into the apple orchard the acorn restored all the willing trees back to God’s original intentions. What the acorn (Jesus) left behind was hope, and courage for the apple orchard to change, that force we call the Holy Spirit.

This story of the apple orchard and the mighty oak tree, can help us connect the concept in the mystery of the Holy Trinity.  In real life we can observe Our Father God, performing his creative abilities, through this tiny acorn.

We humans are limited. We try to manipulate and change the things God made perfect for us. Just like Adam and Eve we too are just as guilty as they were. We fail and sin, all the time. The truth is we can not design an oak tree, nor can we design an apple blossom to perform with perfection.

If we look, we can see God working, just by looking at that acorn and apple in our hands. We all have special purpose. We are to blossom and grow fruit too. As we grow, we listen to the direction of the Holy Spirit who helps us make good decisions.

We can wonder about the Holy Trinity just as we marvel at the process of a flower turning into an apple, or an acorn can be a tremendous size oak tree. As Christians we can not see, or fully understand how God is three Gods in one, but we have the Gospel message, that tells us of Gods love for us and we witness His love and miracles in nature every day, through acorns, oaks and apple blossoms all connecting, and directing us to look up to Him.

Copyright 2009 Marjory S Erdman

I was raised in a Catholic family, and my parents always advised me to pray and search for God for a help. Sure I went to church as they always reminded me to, prayed to God in any situations, and looked for Him when I am lost.

Time flew, I became a person with bigger hopes and dreams.. I did have wishes.. and I tried wholeheartedly to reach and make all the dreams came true.

I prayed to God “Lord, please lead my way, so I can achieve my dreams.” I shouted to Him when I felt insecure, I asked Him to carry me when I am down, and I joined some church activities as my good friend invited me to.

So many years I have waited, for my wishes to come true, I prayed and prayed. I lifted up my life to Him, and I knew He will make it beautiful in time.

My college years had finally passed. I was glad to have gone through memorable moments during college life, not to mention wonderful friends I have. Then I went to California to work, which I was blessed to have such nice jobs and colleagues. Then, few years later, I went back to my country, got married, blessed with a lovely baby girl, then we moved and lived in Singapore. Oh, my life was perfect, wouldn’t trade with anyone.

Then, in one long afternoon, I looked back what I had been through…. then I had a thought and question popped out in my head,… OK, Yes I have reached what I’ve been wishing for.. Yes I have succeeded my journeys with ups and downs.. and Yes I’ve got what other people thought it was extraordinary… But, something was missing.. and I didn’t know what…? I did go to church on Sundays, I did pray rosary and novena often.. however I still felt one great thing is missing…

I talked about this to a good friend of mine, and she wasn’t sure what I want next.. ”What is it? You’ve got whatever you wished for?! And now with a nice home and a wonderful family”, “God has given what you want, now you’re telling me that you’re not quite satisfied?”

“No, it is not that, it is somethings else…” I replied.

The thought once gone, then came back…

Until one night, I dreamed about Holy Mary came to me. Oh, she was beautiful, full of love and grace, and she smiled..but didn’t say a word… In the following day I called my friend and talked about it. She told me to pray and ask God – what is it I’ve been missing? Again, I prayed.. and prayed.., and waited for an answer as my heart was always pounding when thinking about it…

In one fine Sunday morning, I went to church by myself since my daughter was sick so I had to rotate with my husband staying at home with her. I entered the church, I sat close to the exit as I was a little late for the mass, then I prayed, “My Lord..My God, please do not pass me by, please open my heart, and speak to me, what’s the feeling I’ve been having, what is it that I’ve been missing…?”

After receiving the communion, I kneeled down, closed my eyes, and prayed, .. at that very second, I felt someone walked closer to me, and gave me the warmest hug as from a greatest friend I’ve been longing for, I felt Jesus hugging me. I shed tears and felt like I was in heaven. So, this is what has been missing.. I miss JESUS!

He walked before me, He stayed beside me when I needed him… He had me all those good and rough times, ….but, I did not realize that I’ve never had Him in my heart.

For all the times I prayed, I wished, and I prayed… but never I had the faith and the belief that Jesus Himself lived inside with me and listened every single word of my prayers.

I just prayed without believing it.

And, with His grace…, with no conditions…, for all those years, God granted my wishes…and yes, He sure made it beautiful in time,… and that was when He hugged me

Lord, You are good! What would I do without you…

Copyright August 2009 Monica Dewi

Monica Dewi is an Indonesian catholic mom of two blessed children, Arlene and Gavin. She went to Oklahoma State University for her Bachelor and to Oklahoma City University for her Master degree. Having been married for six years with her husband, Gary, she realizes that God is the only love the family has been holding onto. She is now living in Singapore, and has just started to compose religious songs, and write articles about her catholic faith journey. She wishes to share her cultural experiences and how God has touched her heart through her family, friends, and life. Her songs are available at her blog monicadewi.wordpress.com.

We’re so pleased to welcome guest blogger Shelly Kelly of the

Working moms across the nation will understand the true value of a non-travel three-day weekend.

A normal week is just one scheduling juggle after another, getting the kids out the door in the morning, dropping them off at school in time to get to the office, juggling projects, meeting deadlines, taking breaks to schedule appointments with the doctor or the hairdresser–blessing those who can squeeze in appointments at the end of the day after 5 p.m. After work, you sing with the radio in promising to greet the kids at after-school care in a positive mood before whisking them home or to evening activities. Then you’re shepherding the kids through homework and showers while you warm up something from the freezer or chop something for a fresh meal on the stove. The after dinner show is a well orchestrated circus of dishes, signing planners, shuffling paperwork, and preparing for the next morning, before collapsing in front of the television about 9 p.m. to watch your favorite show. What did we miss before the DVR?

Unless sports are in season, Saturday is for sleeping in! We run our errands on Saturday or plan something fun to do as a family. In the summertime dinner is late, hopefully because we lose track of time at the swimming pool or while taking a “thank goodness it’s cool enough to be outside” late walk or bicycle ride. Saturday is “catch up from the week before” day.

Sunday is the earliest morning with CCE, followed by Mass, doughnuts, and the Sunday paper, before tackling a full afternoon of laundry, meal planning, and the grocery store. Sunday dinner is family affair with leftovers planned to be used throughout the week. Sunday is our “plan for the week ahead” day.

Three day weekends can be sneaky time-stealers, because three full days is plenty of time to drive up to see the in-laws for a nice visit. After having fun and playing all weekend, you arrive home tired yet happy, until you realize that you’re going to play catch-up with the grocery and the laundry for the next three days.

But, oh the bliss and glory of the rare three-day weekend without any plans. A full luxurious day to lay around the house and do absolutely nothing. A trip to the library without rushing to the next stop, savoring a book for an hour or more, letting the kids play in their rooms without interruption. Talking. Laughing. Just resting. Maybe the second day you’ll tackle a home project; one of those full immersion jobs that works you late into the day while the kids play in the yard. Then, the best of all, another full day for all of those “here comes the week” chores needed to prepare you for the short week ahead.

Yes, there’s nothing quite like a relaxing three day weekend. Except perhaps, the long week between Christmas and New Years Eve.

Shelly Kelly is the working mom half of the blogging sisters duo found at Of Sound Mind and Spirit. When she’s not blogging with her sister, Lisa, she uses her BS English & MS History in her career as a Certified Archivist. Her publications include the award-winning Through a Night of Horrors: Voices from the 1900 Galveston Storm. She lives in Texas with her husband and two horse-loving, song-writing daughters.

As parents, most of us try very hard to raise our children the best we know how and to instill in them eternal truths and values that will help guide them through life. All too soon, though, our children become adults and find themselves immersed in the ways of the world. It happens so gradually, doesn’t it?  They may start going to Mass less and less often, praying less and less.  Pretty soon, they don’t go to Mass at all.  Then they may begin to question God’s existence in the first place.  The world tells them they don’t have to honor the faith of their parents.  The world tells them that it is up to them to decide what to believe.  Your truth is your truth, and my truth is my truth––it is all relative, and one truth is just as valid as another.  They are even told their parents have violated their individual rights.  That is Satan’s lie!  He wants to make black and white into gray.

We women, as mother’s, have the great privilege to conceive and bear children as given us by God.  I have been so grateful to be able to exercise that gift.  My husband and I were blessed with two natural children––a son and a daughter—and we homeschooled them from early on.  Taking very seriously the mandate from God to raise them in the Church in accordance with the Magisterium, we felt called to be a homeschooling family in order to teach them the complete Truth along with all the reasons and Traditions behind it all.

Nevertheless, my husband and I have experienced first hand what it feels like to have our children depart from their heritage.  Our son claims himself to be an agnostic.  And when our daughter was about 18, she started seeing a non-denominational young man whom she met at a nearby junior college.  At first, she was only seeing him in group activities, as we required.  Almost immediately, discussions took place regarding mixed-faith relationships and the difficulties involved.  She seemed to understand the reasons for our concern and had discussions with him about this issue.  Over the next few months, as she saw him more and more frequently, the discussions continued, but with no evident resolution in sight.  She continued her relationship with her non-Catholic young man; and as I write this, she is preparing to marry him outside the Church.

The chain of events unfolded gradually, but the pain and negative feedback from family members began almost immediately.  How could this be happening to our family?  We find ourselves on an emotional roller coaster, but God has not let us down.  He has given us the support of many faithful Catholics who lift us up when we experience negative feedback from our daughter and other family members.

Our daughter’s decision set in motion a complex course of events, spawning many questions and creating many quandaries.  Are they going to marry in the Church?  Is he going to convert?  How are their decisions going to impact my husband and me and our involvement in their wedding?  What ramifications do we need to consider?

Should we help support their wedding financially?  Would we be implicitly or overtly showing approval of the marriage?  Should we go to the wedding, but sit in the back and leave before the reception starts?  As parents of the bride, how could we attend without the traditional participation expected of the bride’s family?  Can my husband walk her down the aisle?  How would it look if her dad didn’t walk her down the aisle?  Would that cause her undue embarrassment?  Should we not attend at all?  How do we explain to her seven adopted brothers and sisters that they can’t go to their sister’s wedding?  What would be the best way to avoid as much pain and scandal as possible?  After all, we do love our daughter and care about how our decision will affect her and how it will impact our future relationship.  How much support can we give this marriage without compromising our beliefs?  Can we find a way to make a stand without causing undue stress? What does the Church teach about attending invalid weddings?

The Church teaches that marriage is a sacrament that confers grace on the recipients, and that there is a form and matter to be followed to be valid.  The Church does not say explicitly what we should do about attending in cases where that form is not followed because the circumstances vary so much from one situation to another.  Are you a parent or cousin?  Are the intended baptized Catholics; and if so, where are they marrying?  Is the couple cohabitating before marriage? What are the particulars of your situation?

So here is the list of specifics in this instance: We are parents of the bride, and she is a baptized and confirmed Catholic.  She is marrying a non-Catholic who has not been baptized.  They are cohabitating before marriage.  They are planning a wedding outside the Church.  They are not marrying in a Christian church of another denomination, but outdoors with a rented preacher.

You may ask then – what ARE we going to do about attending the wedding?  My husband and I both did a lot of research and sought spiritual advice from priests, deacons, and faithful Catholic friends.  The Holy Bible, Catechism of the Catholic Church and the Code of Canon Law were our primary sources of information.  We also sought articles from Catholic Answers in San Diego, CA, as well as documents and encyclicals on the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops website and EWTN website.  There was a plethora of information on Marriage, yet few definite guidelines on attending invalid or illicit weddings.

The Church further teaches that marrying invalidly is a mortal sin.  It also teaches that if we cooperate in any sin by participation––not hindering or supporting in any way––then we are liable for that sin as well.  Check out Catechism on the Catholic Church numbers 1868, 2284, 2287 for a start.  Ronald Lawler’s The Teaching of Christ is also a good place to read what the Church teaches about marriage.

My husband and I became convicted that we could not support such a wedding in any way.  In order to avoid as much scandal as possible, we have decided we should not attend the wedding at all.  How could we abandon our Faith just to keep from making things difficult?  How could we decide to avoid taking the hard stand when our Lord died for us on the Cross?!  This has been the toughest decision that we have ever had to make as parents, but we are at peace.  We know that it is the right thing to do––to put God before our own considerations and stand up for His Church.  For after all, we are united as the body of Christ and His body is the Church.

Why do we think so?  Because we are called by God to spread the Gospel.  We are also obligated to uphold the teachings of the Church.  These are dire times.  They require extreme action.  We parents cannot sit by and say nothing.  We have to take a stand.  Yes, we may all have made some of the same mistakes.  Does that justify our children’s wrong decisions?  Does that mean we are not allowed to object when we see our children making mistakes?  Doesn’t our personal knowledge rather give credibility to our objections, solid evidence to support our opinions?  It gives us a perspective of experience upon which to form our reactions.  Don’t we all wish someone had spoken to us back then––candidly, and with a caring compassion––in an effort to stop us before we made those serious mistakes?  Honestly, where do we draw the line?  When do we––and, if not us, who will––make the effort to see that the madness stops?

My husband and I discussed with our young couple their decision to live together before marrying and the sin of that lifestyle.  Marrying as they have planned would not take away that sin.  Furthermore, marrying outside of the Church makes that wedding invalid, as well as illicit, based on the fact that her fiancé is not baptized.  But what does the world tell them?  That they don’t have to accept their parents faith and values, that they are independent adults and have the right to make their own choices.  Where have we heard that before?  Perhaps in a garden somewhere, under a forbidden tree?

We all find ourselves questioning our parenting skills, don’t we?  What did I do wrong?  What I should do now?  As parents, we can only give our children back to God––as His children––at their birth and recognize that we are simply caretakers.  God uses us to raise these children, despite our lack of abilities.  We have to believe that He will triumph in the end, for He is their Father forever.

So what do I think this trial of ours is all about?  Is spiritual warfare what is going on?  Is it just a phase our children are going through as they spread their wings and try out the world and what society says is good?  If so, time will bear that out.  My husband and I have tried to get a sense from our adult children of what is at the root of it all, but they don’t seem to be able to articulate to us what that is.  I think that is a real source of frustration––not knowing what prompted them to leave the Church.

My husband and I have been convicted to take a hard stand concerning the wedding and uphold the teachings of our Holy Mother the Church, because at some point the Truth has to come to the forefront.  It has to be facilitated by those of us who have the courage to act on what we are convinced is the Truth.  Persecution may come.  Jesus never said it would be easy.  I ask you – where does the madness end?  How do we stop it?  By standing by and being passive?  I don’t think so!

So for us––we will stand for the Truth in the Church’s teachings.  We can not waver and still pray that our children will see the Truth one day and be led by our steadfastness back to the fullness of Truth in the Holy Catholic Church.  Please God!

Deborah Beebe and her husband live and homeschool their family in Alabama.

Copyright 2009 Deborah Beebe

Recently, I stumbled across the vivid meaning of the dragonfly, and made “The Dragonfly Connection.” The dragonfly is considered in many cultures as symbol of strength, light, transformation, grace and adaptability. This creature has this ability to reflect and refract light, responsible for the dragonflies status as a “Light-Bearer.” Dragonflies exhibit the many colors of life, with maturity and time the dragonfly’s own true colors come forth revealing the insects deepest beauty as it learns to bend and shift adapting light in a variety of ways. The dragonfly demonstrates the utmost adaptability, and grace as well. No bird or other insect has the flight maneuverability of the dragonfly, which can quickly change its directions when necessary. They are experts at going where they need to be and doing what they need to do.

As a symbol of transformation in life’s ever constant process of change, the dragonfly spends the majority of its life on the bottom of the pond as a larva; however, it always rises above that. The dragonfly works its way thought the weight of the water and into the sunlight, gathering and garnering what it needs to change and unfold when it is ready it sheds its protective casing and flies away from the pond to ultimately unite with other dragonflies which have also completed there transformation.

Zack was not only a beautiful person, he sparkled.  He silently and steadily battled the cancer. He encouraged and empowered others to be “light bearers” too.  “He never felt sorry for himself or outwardly complained,” recalled his mom Christine.  Zack exuded this light and love even in the darkest moments of his illness, when his cancer was at its most aggressive stage.  He was faced with multiple surgeries, chemo therapy and prospects of more of all the same ahead for him.  Zack chose to press on with school and his goals to drive a car, participate in Catholic Heart work camp and ultimately graduating from Montague High School in his Junior class, with high hopes to go to College.

The Lord’s strength had shown forth in Zack as our Church community witnessed Zack’s last months. At a time when he was most frail and weak in body, there he was at church ministering the Eucharist at Mass. We watched as he seemed to adapt, with the speed, maneuverability and grace of the dragonfly.  Zack chose to accept the path that life gave him, even though it was not at all the life he had planned.  Through this battle, he transformed and matured through his illness.  As he trusted God with his last days, his truest colors came through even more vibrantly. Finally in his dying Zack helped us to see through the illusion of death.  In the moments of Zack’s passing, his parents Christen and Bob remember that Zack left this earth, with full faith in his destination.  Zack was bound for heaven with Jesus, just as the dragonfly doesn’t die when it leaves the world of the pond as a larva and a water bug, it transforms into a dragonfly. Holding its wings out straight and proud with full knowledge of where it is going.

We all must go through life gathering and garnering what we need to undergo constant conversion from sin, and our own cancers of sorts to overcome working our way up threw the bottom of the pond just as dragonflies do — just as Zack did in his own way.  Although Zack is gone away from the earthly pond a while, we have faith and hope that we too will all reunite with Christ Jesus in Glory when we, have transformed and become the “Light bearers” that we truly are. I know I will never look at a dragonfly the same way again.

Copyright 2009 Marjory Erdman

Thanks to Paul and Tracey McManus, authors of The 7 Great Prayers: For a Lifetime of Hope and Blessings

7 Great Affirmations for the Unemployed
With Practical Tips You Can Apply Today

Lost jobs. Lost homes. Lost hope.

It’s in the headlines, it’s on the news, and it’s in our day-to-day conversations with people we care about: family, friends, co-workers, neighbors and people within our spiritual circles. When you’re out of work, where do you turn when it seems nobody can help you or those you love?

For Tracey and I, and the thousands of people who visit our website everyday, we turn to a power greater than ourselves and we use affirmative prayers.

But what are affirmative prayers? How do you use them? And do they work?

The 7 Great Affirmations for the Unemployed

The following is our suggestion of how to use our 7 Great Affirmations to overcome job loss. We use the term God to mean the higher power of your understanding. These seven affirmations are the ones we and thousands of others have used to overcome unemployment and the negative emotions surrounding it.

1. Change Your Focus – Give praise. Take your mind off your life’s challenges and shift your focus toward good thoughts and attaining a new job.

Affirmation: I love you God and welcome you into my heart. Thank you for blessing me with a new job.

Tip: For many of your affirmations, affirm as though you have already been blessed with what you are asking for.

2. Put Yourself in a State of Gratitude – Take a moment and reflect on all the good things in your life and give thanks. Change your thinking from lack to thanks.

Affirmation: Thank you God, you give me power, comfort and strength while I find a new job.

Tip: Affirmations without taking action are just wishes. Take steps forward every day to find a new job and give thanks for everything during the day. There is nothing too small to give thanks for. For example, thank God for the beautiful day, a smile, a kind word, not to mention your health, family, etc.

3. Connect with Your Higher Power — From Whom all Blessings Flow – Feel God’s presence and know that God is within you right now, and that you are connected with God.

Affirmation: God, you are within me right now and you are helping me through my job search and helping me find the perfect job for me.

Tip: When using affirmations, don’t beg. Instead, talk as though you are talking with your best friend. Talk and affirm positively, and know that you are loved.

4. It’s Okay to Ask to Be Blessed with a New Job – God wants the very best for you . . . “whatever you shall ask in prayer, believing, you shall receive”.

Affirmation: I am being led on the right path for me today for finding a new job, leaving all the details to God…I am blessed.

Tip: Some people believe for some reason they don’t deserve blessings — throw this idea out once and for all! You are a good person. You are loved. You deserve to be blessed, so ask to be blessed in prayer, believe you’ll be blessed, and you will receive blessings!

5. Be on the Lookout for “Messengers” and Blessings – Be alert to messengers and events that have been sent your way to help you receive the blessings you desire, which includes helping you through the entire process of your re-employment.

Affirmation: God, because I see you everywhere, I easily recognize it when you are reaching out to bless me. I take continuous action and leave no stone unturned.

Tip: Set a goal. Have a clear picture of the job you want. Put your re-employment goals in writing. There are studies that report that those who put their goals in writing achieve dramatically better results than those who don’t. So write down your re-employment affirmations in a journal along with your re-employment goals, and then take ACTION!

6. Bless and Love Others - “Love your neighbor as you would love yourself”. When you are out of a job it’s easy to feel very alone and isolated in your negative situation. Again, it’s crucial that you maintain a positive mental attitude, and an easy way to do this is to say short, loving affirmations, blessing others.

Affirmation: I love and bless my family and friends. I love and bless all those who are in need of love, comfort and strength.

Tip: Decide to live in the now. Don’t fret about the past, don’t worry about the future. Don’t go through your re-employment alone. Connect with family, friends, people you’ve worked with in the past, community services and your spiritual circle.

7. Use Your Talents – Whatever you put into the universe will come back to you ten-fold. You have special gifts. Reflect on these gifts and how they can help others. Be open to a completely different career; maybe a move to a new location. With every adversity there is the seed of an equal or greater benefit.

Affirmation: God, work through me now and help me do your good works. The more I help others, and do your good work, the more blessings I attract into my life.

Tip: While looking for a new job, stay active. Volunteer. Help others. It’s the right thing to do and your volunteer work may very well connect you to a person or event that will help you become re-employed.

Tracey and I want to help you with your re-employment. To download a free pocket-size prayer card designed to help you stay positive, take action and get a new job, please visit www.the7greatprayers.com/unemployed. And please consider committing to the 21-day Prayer Challenge found on our website.

© 2009 Paul & Tracey McManus, author of The 7 Great Prayers: For a Lifetime of Hope and Blessings

Paul and Tracey McManus authors of The 7 Great Prayers: For a Lifetime of Hope and Blessings, originally created The 7 Great Prayers in response to their own financial and personal challenges. They have made it their mission to teach others how to live abundant and blessed lives by tapping into the power of God and the power of the mind through The 7 Great Prayers. They live in Connecticut with their three children.

To learn more about The 7 Great Prayers: For a Lifetime of Hope and Blessings please visit www.the7greatprayers.com.

Here’s how it works. These websites rank highly in the search engines where people are looking for answers. They make money with advertisements on the site. They share a portion of this advertising revenue with the content creators. Those with the most popular or useful articles get the biggest share. People make anywhere from nothing to thousands of dollars a month writing for these sites. Maria make over $2000 a month.

She graciously agreed to answer a few questions I put to her via email (my questions are in bold).

Are you a full time Mom?

Maria: Yes, I stay home full time with my three children, ages 2 to 6. We do some homeschooling and they go to a Montessori Atrium one day a week. In the fall, they will be in a Catholic school/ preschool three half-days a week.

How are you able to stay at home and also earn money?

Maria: I started by freelance writing and grading English papers from home, doing about 10-15 hours a week while the children slept, or played quietly. Now, I earn money through online writing and marketing, earning more money than before while often putting in fewer hours. Residual income, through sites like eHow.com, allows me to work less while earning more over time.

So anyone can write articles for eHow?

Maria: Yes, anyone who can write coherent sentences and knows how to do things (that’s virtually everyone, right?) can share their knowledge and earn money at eHow.com.

Is the Internet a God-send for men and women who need to stay home and still make money?

Maria: The Internet has been a huge blessing in my life as far as allowing me to continue writing, both for myself and for freelance clients, since deciding to stay home with my children after the birth of my oldest. Thanks to the Internet, I am able to generate a very good secondary income to help my family. Even for people who would rather make candles or sell crafts, rather than write, the Internet is an extremely useful and powerful tool to connect with buyers as well as suppliers. It’s hard to imagine modern commerce without the Internet.

What are the main benefits of using websites like eHow to create income?

Maria: There are many benefits to writing for sites like eHow.com to create income online. The site is already well established and ranked by the search engines, so your content will start earning money more quickly than if you were to start a site from scratch. With content sites like eHow, you can write on virtually any topic and explore the profitability of so many niches at once. Another great thing about the site is that your content continues to earn money indefinitely, so your earning potential is very high compared to sites that pay a flat fee for content.

Isn’t everything on the Internet a scam?

Maria: No. There are scams everywhere, but there are also legitimate money-making opportunities and eHow, owned by the well-established Demand Media company, is one of the most legitimate, trustable online sites I’ve found.

What is passive income?

Maria: Passive income is money you earn from previous efforts and that keeps coming in without continuous work on your part. Or put another way, passive income is money you earn when you’re sleeping.

What is your advice to other Catholics who need to make some extra money?

Maria: Try several things to find your own niche. I personally love writing and marketing online, and think it’s an excellent way to make money and build a long-term passive income. But try several things to find what you’re good at, what works well with your family schedule, and brings you joy.
Maria recently shared that she has just made her last student loan payment using her eHow earnings, and about two years ahead of schedule! Maria also helps others to increase their web earnings with an ebook that she wrote that reveals how she earns over $2000 a month on eHow. Click here to check it out.

To see some other websites that pay money, see this article.

Brian Killian is a Catholic Freelance Writer. Follow him on Twitter.

Copyright 2009 Brian Killian

On this earth there is no complete explanation of the Trinity.  But a limited description could be that the Trinity is an eternal exchange of love shared between the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.  In this exchange of love, each person reveals the communion in the three as explained by Christopher West:

A ‘common union’ (communion) of persons is established to the degree that persons  mutually give themselves to one another in sacrificial love… The Father eternally ‘begets’ the Son by giving himself to and for the Son.  In turn, the Son (the ‘beloved of the Father’) eternally receives the love of the Father and eternally gives himself back to the Father.  This ever-shared, ever-spirating love is the Holy Spirit who, as we say in the Nicene Creed,’proceeds’ from the Father and the Son.’ ….Perfect love—–perfectly and eternally given, perfectly and eternally received, perfectly and eternally returned —-that’s God.2

From this explanation, the model that the Trinity represents is two-fold; a communion of persons and in that communion, a sacrificial love.  People are meant to live in communion with one another.  Like the communion of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, man is to share his life with others.  This communion between each member of the Trinity reveals an ongoing flow of love, one to the other.  Man, male and female, is also meant to love and be loved as the members of the Trinity demonstrate.  Pope John Paul II explains this beautifully in his encyclical, Redemptor Hominis when he says, “Man cannot live without love. He remains a being that is incomprehensible for himself, his life is senseless, if love is not revealed to him, if he does not encounter love, if he does not experience it and make it his own, if he does not participate intimately in it.”3  This communion of love is the model that can be used in the marriage, the family and society to find and live love and happiness.

There may be no analogy used more in scripture to illustrate the love Christ has for his Church than that of marriage; bridegroom and bride, husband and wife.  If the writers of scripture see this spousal relationship as important enough to illustrate Christ’s love, the conclusion can be drawn that the love and communion shared in marriage must have profound importance.  The Pontifical Council for the Family confirms this in The Truth and Meaning of Human Sexuality:

Marriage is not, then, the effect of chance or the product of evolution of unconscious natural forces; it is the wise institution of the Creator to realize in mankind his design of love.  By means of the reciprocal personal gift of self, proper and exclusive to them, husband and wife tend toward the communion of their beings, in view of mutual personal perfection, to collaborate with God in the generation and education of new lives.4

The Vows of Consent spoken and agreed upon during the wedding Mass of the Sacrament of Matrimony identify the expression of love and communion the couple promise to live in their marital life. This expression is recognized in the Trinity. “God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit imparts a specific share of his inner life of union and communion to those who enter sacramental Marriage.”5  The first Vow of Consent asks the couple if they have come to the Sacrament of Matrimony freely and without reservation to give themselves to the other.  Each person in the Trinity gives and continues to give freely of Himself in love.  One of the many ways in which the Father gave freely of His own love was sending His Son to redeem mankind from original sin. Father John Hardon explained this in The Catholic Catechism:

God could have set a new and purely natural destiny for man and promised him a natural     happiness  after death.  He could also have reopened heaven without the Incarnation by simply     forgiving everything without reparation. But this would have been less in keeping with his perfect     justice and with the divine will to manifest his perfect love.  He therefore decided to take the most     sublime course possible.  His only Son was to take on human nature and thus representing all     humanity, redeem us through his passion and death.6

Christ’s example of giving freely of Himself is quite obvious in His passion and death.  He was not coerced or forced to give up His life, but chose to do His Father’s will of His own accord.  The Holy Spirit freely works with Christ to “bring Christ’s faithful to share in communion with the Father in the Holy Spirit.”7  Each person of the Trinity has, in many ways, been an example to married couples to give of themselves freely in marriage.

The second Vow of Consent asks the couple if they will love and honor each other as man and wife for the rest of their lives.  In this vow each person of the Trinity again exemplifies to the husband and wife how they have loved and honored from the beginning of time until the end of time.  From the beginning God has revealed Himself to man when He made man in His image and likeness: “calling him to existence through love, He called him at the same time for love.”8

The communion of love shared by each person of the Trinity is given to man in and through his creation.  This ongoing, never ending communion of love in the Trinity is the communion of love meant to be expressed in the indissoluble marriage.

The bridegroom and bride profess in the third Vow of Consent to accept children lovingly from God and bring them up according to the law of Christ and His Church.  This vow asks of each to live a sacrificial life.  Accepting children into the marriage requires giving up time and things to allow for a new family member.  It may even mean sacrificing in the form of dying to self in certain circumstances.  The example each member of the Trinity gives of sacrifice reveals to man the true way of love.  God the Father sacrificed His Son for the redemption of the world.  What parent, when truly contemplating this, can even imagine the sacrifice He made, knowing He was sending His Son to a certain passion and death?   St. Paul explains to husbands in Ephesians 5:25 that they are asked to “love there wives as Christ loved the Church.”  Husbands have the great calling to be Christ in their marriage, even to the point of dying for their wives. This may not necessarily mean a complete physical death, but more specifically, a dying of self each and every day.   The Holy Spirit aids man in this sacrifice.  Romans 5:5 reminds us “…God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.”  The love and communion meant to flow through the marriage of husband and wife is embodied in the Trinity and shared with all sacramentally married couples.

“In his fashioning and re-fashioning of Marriage, the Triune God further offers the baptized a way of sharing as creatures in his own union and communion, through the created reality of gender, through sexuality and procreation, through the community of life and love which is found in family.”9  The family is very much like an earthly replication of the Trinity in that the husband, wife and children have places in the family similar to the places of the three Divine persons.  The husband, like God the Father, had headship over the family.  The husband is the origin of the family, replicating God the Father’s role in pouring himself into the Son and the Spirit as their origin.   This headship, again like God the Father, is one of self-giving, not domination.  The husbands authority over his wife “derives entirely from his loving service to her needs, his gift of himself entirely to her… Insofar as he does not do these things, he has no authority over woman whatsoever.”10  The analogy of the wife’s place in the trinitarian family to Christ’s role in the Most Holy Trinity is in receiving the love of the husband and in returning it, with the blessing of God, a third member is created.  The Father’s love given to the Son and then returned, gives us the Holy Spirit, who “proceeds from the Father and the Son.”  Pope John    Paul II teaches this model of the Trinity being revealed in the family in an address at Williams-Brice Stadium. “…the Church and the family are each in its own way living representations in human history of the eternal loving communion of the three persons of the Most Holy Trinity.”11
Pope Paul the VI has given the family a mission from God.  “This mission-to be the first and vital cell of society-the family has received from God.”12  This mission must be taken seriously by the family because it is the foundation of all of society.  The family is the instructor of love and communion for society.  When the family models the love of the Trinity, society can not help but be affected.  Pope John Paul II explains the “intimate connection” between the family and society:

Just as the intimate connection between the family and society demands that the family be     open to and participate in society and its development, so also it requires that society should never     fail in its fundamental task of respecting and fostering the family.

The family and society have complementary functions in defending and fostering the good of each and every human being.  But society – more specifically the State – must recognize that ‘the family is a society in its own original right’ and so society is under a grave obligation in its relations with the family to adhere to the principle of subsidiarity.13

This principle of subsidiarity is where society can, and should, model the love and communion of the Trinity.  This principle says that a community of higher order should not interfere with the internal order of a community of a lower order but should support it with a view for the common good.  When the self-giving  and receiving principles portrayed by each person in the Trinity are lived out in society, with the emphasis on the common good, cultures can become one in solidarity.  The evangelist John gave us the goal for all of society in John 17:21 when he said, “that they may all be one, even as you, Father, are in me, and I in you, that they also may be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me.”  As difficult as it may seem for this to happen in our society today, we can have assurance in the Holy Spirit.  “The Spirit who builds up communion in love creates between us a new fraternity and solidarity, a true reflection of the mystery of mutual self-giving and receiving proper to the Most Holy Trinity.”14

“The Trinity, the one true God, is a community of Persons eternally bound together in perfect understanding and love.  In knowing the mystery of the Trinity, we realize that divine life can be shared, and shared even by us created persons, who as adopted sons and daughters can be brought into the joy of the perfect community.”15  Modeling the charity exhibited in the Trinity, first in the marriage, then in the family and finally in society directs man and society to become what God has created them to be.

Copyright 2009 Diane Schwind

Notes

Steven Kellmeyer, Sex and the Sacred City (Plano: Bridegroom Press, 2003), 3.
2    Christopher West, The Love That Satisfies (West Chester: Ascension Press, 2007), 10-11.
3         John Paul II, Redemptor Hominis (1979), no. 10,
http://www.vatican.va/holy_father/john_paul_ii/encyclicals/documents/hf_jp-ii_enc_04031979_redemptor
hominis_en.html(accessed April 4, 2009).
4    The Pontifical Council for the Family, The Truth and Meaning of Human Sexuality (Boston: Pauline Books & Media, 1996), 28-29.
5         Peter J. Elliot, What God Has Joined…: The Sacramentality of Marriage (Staten Island: Society of St. Paul, 1990)
41.
6        John A. Hardon, The Catholic Catechism: A Contemporary Catechism of the Teachings of the Catholic Church
(NewYork: Doubleday, 1981), 108.
7        Catechism of the Catholic Church, Liberia Editrice Vaticana, 737.
8    Pope John Paul II, Familiaris Consortio (Boston: Pauline Books & Media, 1981), 22.
9    Elliott, What God Has Joined…, 41.
10    Kellmeyer, Sex and the City, 21.
11    Pope John Paul II, Address at Williams-Brice Stadium, 1987, http://www.ewtn.com/library/PAPALDOC/JP2BRICE.HTM (accessed April 6, 2009).
12    Pope Paul VI, Apostolicam Actuositatem,  1965, http://www.vatican.va/archive/hist_councils/ii_vatican_council/documents/vat-ii_decree_19651118_apostolicam-actuositatem_en.html (accessed April 6, 2009).
13    Pope John Paul II, Familiaris Consortio, 70.
14    Pope John Paul II, Evangelium Vitae, 1995, http://www.vatican.va/holy_father/john_paul_ii/encyclicals/documents/hf_jp-ii_enc_25031995_evangelium-vitae_en.html, (accessed April 6, 2009), 76.
15    Donald W. Wuerl, et al., eds., The Teaching of Christ: A Catholic Catechism for Adults: (Huntington: Our Sunday Visitor, Inc., 2005), 153.

Catechism of the Catholic Church, Libreria Editrice Vaticanan, second edition, 1997.

The Pontifical Council for the Family. The Truth and Meaning of Human Sexuality. Boston: Pauline     Books & Media, 1996.

Elliot, Peter J.. What God Has Joined…: The Sacramentality of Marriage. Staten Island: Society of St.     Paul, 1990.

Hardon, John A. The Catholic Catechism: A Contemporary Catechism of the Teachings of the Catholic     Church. New York: Doubleday, 1981.

Kellmeyer, Steven. Sex and the Sacred City. Plano: Bridegroom Press, 2003.

Pope John Paul II. Address at Williams-Brice Stadium. 1987. [online]. available from     http://www.ewtn.com/library/PAPALDOC/JP2BRICE.HTM. (accessed April 6, 2009).

Pope John Paul II, Evangelium Vitae. 1995. [online]. available from       http://www.vatican.va/holy_father/john_paul_ii/encyclicals/documents/hf_jp-    ii_enc_25031995_evangelium-vitae_en.html. (accessed April 6, 2009).

Pope John Paul II. Familiaris Consortio. Boston: Pauline Books & Media, 1981.

Pope John Paul II. Redemptor Hominis. 1979. [online]. available from       http://www.vatican.va/holy_father/john_paul_ii/encyclicals/documents/hf_jp-    ii_enc_04031979_redemptor-hominis_en.html. (accessed April 4, 2009).

West, Christopher. The Love That Satisfies. West Chester: Ascension Press, 2007.

Wuerl, Donald W., Ronald Lawler, Thomas Comerford Lawler and Kris D. Stubna, eds., The Teaching of     Christ: A Catholic Catechism for Adults: Huntington: Our Sunday Visitor, Inc., 2005.