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When we lived in Turkey, my family experienced a 7.0 earthquake that lasted nearly 45 seconds, which in earthquake time is an eternity. It’s long enough to say an “Our Father,” I can tell you that.
Once the shaking stopped, my kids and I ran barefoot out of our building, flying down the 15 floors to the bottom. I’ll never forget the look of relief on our doorman’s face when he saw us safely down. In that brief look, I knew this man, who I had barely talked to because of language barriers, cared about us.
Making our way with my husband’s squadron to higher ground for fear of a tsunami, we ended in a very poor part of town. There we were a bunch of Americans standing among Syrian refugees. The contrast was great. Soon, little Turkish and Syrian boys were coming over to our guys to get a look at their big muscles. When the guys would flex, the boys would all yell, “Ohhhhhh!!!!” with big smiles on their faces and run away, only to return for another look. It was so endearing.
At one point, a very poor mother saw that my kids and I had on no shoes and she was concerned. Through mostly hand gestures, I tried to explain why. Within a few minutes, these destitute people brought shoes for the three of us. Shoes off their own feet. It was one of the most tragically beautiful moments of my life.
I loved living in Turkey, it was an amazing experience that changed me in a lot of ways. I grew to love a people very different from me in culture and custom, but so generous in their attention, gifts, and friendship.
My heart has been crushed over this earthquake that happened in Turkey and Syria. Nearly ten times worse than the one my family experienced there, and much more devastating.
Please pray, Catholic Pilgrims, for more survivors to be found. I know time is running out, but maybe there is still reason to hope. And if you can give, please do to a reputable group. A group of them once blessed me with literally the shoes off their feet, I feel most desperate to give back.
Türkiye ve Suriye için dualar.
*Picture is of the ancient city of Teos in Turkey.
On a friend's page a few weeks back, I saw a post that talked about not buying into consumerism during Christmas. (pun intended) Cool, cool. I'm with you. But, then it said, "For Christmas, just have a family meal and call it a day." And with that, my eyebrow raised in annoyance. The post was no longer cool to me. I understand the desire to not do the consumerism thing during Christmas. Too much emphasis is placed on truck-loads of presents, buying this, that, and everything. Christmas is not the Season of Buying. Or rather, I should say, Advent is not the Season of Buying. Now, there is nothing inherently wrong with buying gifts. I love finding meaningful, special gifts for people. The emphasis being on presents and things is the problem. But, nowhere in that post was the name of Christ brought up. Christmas isn't about family meals, presents, cookies, travel, parties or even Santa. My dad wrote me the other day and said, "You know something that drives me nuts? When people start talking about getting together with family and friends, decorations, Christmas trees, and presents and someone will say, 'Well, that's what Christmas is all about.' It's sad that it took Linus from 'A Charlie Brown Christmas' to get it right." Jesus. Jesus is Who the Advent and Christmas Seasons are all about. The post could have said, "Don't buy into consumerism this Christmas Season. Get your family and go to Church for Christmas and celebrate Our Savior being born. That's what it's all about." Church is free. Preparing for the coming of Christmas is free. Worshipping Our Savior is free. None of the other stuff is bad, Catholic Pilgrims. But, let's not just refrain from buying stuff, then just have a dinner, and call it a day. Let's lean into our Advent Season as it prepares us for the coming of Christ at Christmas and call it a well-lived season. Live the faith boldly and travel well this Monday.
Continue ReadingWhen I was a kid growing up in the 80s, my dad was a master of filling waiting time. Since my parents only had one car, we would have to go pick my mom up from work once he got out of class at K-State. We'd sit there outside her work waiting on her to come out. It could have been a boring time, but it never was with my dad. We'd make up silly songs, play made-up games, watch the people who were coming out of the building, etc. Those times of waiting with my dad are some of my most memorable. I didn't have a tablet or a phone to occupy me. My dad didn't make me sit there and be quiet, but instead, he showed me what you could do with waiting--you could notice the world around you. Consequently, I took what my dad taught me and did the same things with my kids. Advent is a time of waiting and nearly everyone hates to wait. People rush from one holiday to the next, never waiting or embracing the moment. Our lives feel overly busy because we either try to avoid waiting for anything or we try to numb ourselves during the waiting. But, I think what my dad taught me during those times sitting outside Bluemont Hall on the campus of KSU is the right approach. Look up, take everything in, and enjoy the moment. It's so tempting to just rush to Christmas after Halloween is over. Advent reminds us to slow down, look around, enjoy the moment before the expected day, and soak in the little things. Have a blessed first Sunday of Advent, Catholic Pilgrims.
Continue ReadingBack when we were living in Turkey, we discovered that our 15-year old daughter had scoliosis. It needed a corrective operation and, to make a long story short, we found an amazing doctor in Istanbul. The operation was 11-hours long which was utter torture for my husband and me. When it was over, she had a long road to recovery. After 10-days in the hospital, we finally got to bring her home, but she was very uncomfortable--mostly she could only sit. Lying on her side was impossible. Her lungs were weak and everything hurt. At night, she would get tired of lying on her back and would want to move out to the recliner in the living room. She couldn't help herself, and so I told her to call for me in the night and I would come get her and help. Because her lungs were weak and her torso hurt, she couldn't call very loudly, but no matter what, I always heard her weak voice call out, "Momma?" I could be dead asleep and I never failed to hear her and get up. I'd go to her room, help her up, walk her to the living room, and get her settled in the recliner. When her dad would get home from work, he would take her for a walk around the large 6th floor patio area of our apartment building. Slowly, slowly she would walk in circles, hanging onto her dad's arm, getting stronger with each lap. Today, she is wonderfully healed and healthy. I was thinking about this yesterday. My daughter calling out to me in the night reminds me of how we can call out to Our Blessed Mother for help, prayers, and love. She will always hear us no matter how weakly we call out. A mother always hears the voice of her children when they need her. My husband's actions reminds me of the Father's love--there to give strength and encouragement through difficulties. Always knowing that we are capable of more than we think we are. The love of God always heals us if we trust Him with our pain. We are so blessed, so very blessed, Catholic Pilgrims, to be so loved and wanted by God. We are also blessed that He gives us such a beautiful Mother to call on, as well. Live the Faith boldly and travel well this Monday.
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