I love Easter; it's kind of like the beginning of school in September - everybody gets a fresh start, and all the yesterdays don't matter. I don't even mind churches full of Submarine Catholics (they only surface on Christmas and Easter). So here are my observations on Easter for 2012.
1. Hope Springs Eternal.
2. Everything seems better when the sun is out.
3. Chocolate for breakfast is not a half-bad idea - once in a while.
4. Bunnies rank as just about the cutest animal ever.
5. Little boys are biologically incapable of keeping their shirts tucked in.
6. There's something irresistible about a little girl in pink organza.
7. Equally adorable is a two year old boy in curls and a bow tie.
8. A Really Good Priest can deliver a homily that kids can understand, and still include references that will make the adults laugh.
9. A sign of a native Northwesterner is a frilly Easter dress with a fleece jacket.
10. The promise of the Resurrection, however you choose to believe in it or not, is displayed in the joy and innocence of children, the riot of blooming flowers, and the chance to start all over.
Finally, the best line at today's Easter service, at the very end, Fr. John was thanking the various groups who helped pull off the 4 day marathon of Triduum and Easter, and said that during Communion, he noticed that a little boy who had been absent from school all week was coming forward for a blessing. Fr. John leaned down and asked him how he was feeling, to which the youngster announced, "I don't have diarrhea anymore, Father!" Makes you appreciate the little things for which we can all be thankful.
Here's to a day of jelly beans, chocolate, and sunshine.
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Sunday, April 1, 2012
"...Livin' on money that I ain't made yet..."
Is there an official name for the condition of being afraid to spend money without feeling guilty? I have always been pretty careful with a buck, some would say downright stingy, but I don't see it that way. Tim and I have never made a lot of money, at least not when compared to our peers. We didn't plan it that way, but when faced with decisions that affected our time together and with our boys, we chose to have more time than money. I still think those were wise decisions, at least for us. So why, after all these years, do I still feel like a failure when we spend money for necessary, but expensive, purchases? To me, it always feels like I should have done something differently that would have prevented the purchase...coulda, shoulda, woulda.....
Last month, we broke down and spent $850 on new carpet for our family room. It was 25 years old, original to the house, and we only bought enough to do one room. And I feel like I'm going to get my hand slapped. Today, although we thought we'd only look, we bought a new mattress. The one on which we currently sleep was purchased in 1996, when our son, who will turn 30 this summer, was a freshman in high school. I have rheumatoid arthritis and fibromyalgia; I've had more than a hint of what it feels like to live with chronic pain. So why do I feel like we just splurged on two tickets to Tahiti? (probably because it almost cost as much....)
If there isn't a name for this condition, there should be. Some particular ICD-9 code in the psychiatric books... Am I hearing my mother's voice in the far, deep recesses of my brain, that says, whether or not in so many words, "You can last another year.....too bad, do without.....be glad you've got a house at all....." Now, my mother was not a monster; a character, no question. But not a monster. So why do I continue to feel so judged - not just by her, but by anyone and everyone in general - whenever we make a big purchases? I dread our annual visit to our very charming and very wise financial advisor, because although she has never been anything but supportive and enthusiastic, I am always afraid that she will tear into us for our inability to become debt-free, or at least be better off than we were the previous year (come to think of it, that kinda ticks ME off, too...). Are there others who share my misguided shame? Who take their lunch to work every day, drive a 13 year old car with 215,000+ miles on it, still have clothes in their closet from 1999 - and wear them? And still feel like they should be doing more with less?
I know we're doing the best we can, that there are others much worse off, and that much of this is likely to be temporary. But when I think about an impending wedding, a roof that will need replacing sooner rather than later, and supporting one or both sons who are also doing their best, but struggling nonetheless, I get this uncomfortable, but very familiar, rumbling in my tumbly, to borrow from Pooh.....
Maybe I just need to start buying lottery tickets.....
Last month, we broke down and spent $850 on new carpet for our family room. It was 25 years old, original to the house, and we only bought enough to do one room. And I feel like I'm going to get my hand slapped. Today, although we thought we'd only look, we bought a new mattress. The one on which we currently sleep was purchased in 1996, when our son, who will turn 30 this summer, was a freshman in high school. I have rheumatoid arthritis and fibromyalgia; I've had more than a hint of what it feels like to live with chronic pain. So why do I feel like we just splurged on two tickets to Tahiti? (probably because it almost cost as much....)
If there isn't a name for this condition, there should be. Some particular ICD-9 code in the psychiatric books... Am I hearing my mother's voice in the far, deep recesses of my brain, that says, whether or not in so many words, "You can last another year.....too bad, do without.....be glad you've got a house at all....." Now, my mother was not a monster; a character, no question. But not a monster. So why do I continue to feel so judged - not just by her, but by anyone and everyone in general - whenever we make a big purchases? I dread our annual visit to our very charming and very wise financial advisor, because although she has never been anything but supportive and enthusiastic, I am always afraid that she will tear into us for our inability to become debt-free, or at least be better off than we were the previous year (come to think of it, that kinda ticks ME off, too...). Are there others who share my misguided shame? Who take their lunch to work every day, drive a 13 year old car with 215,000+ miles on it, still have clothes in their closet from 1999 - and wear them? And still feel like they should be doing more with less?
I know we're doing the best we can, that there are others much worse off, and that much of this is likely to be temporary. But when I think about an impending wedding, a roof that will need replacing sooner rather than later, and supporting one or both sons who are also doing their best, but struggling nonetheless, I get this uncomfortable, but very familiar, rumbling in my tumbly, to borrow from Pooh.....
Maybe I just need to start buying lottery tickets.....
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