Life

Like, Love or In Love

Yesterday, I was so compelled to write about how much I miss my priest who is on a six month sabbatical. What made me realize how much I miss him, was going to church yesterday morning and sitting through a Mass listening to the priest filling in for him.

I listened as the replacement priest talked about his theory of “love” and “in love.” He stated that when people get married they are making a commitment to “love,” but not to be “in love.” So basically, too bad. If you are not “in love” any longer, regardless of your situation, you need to stay in the marriage because you made the commitment to “love.” No exceptions.

Wow.

I disagree, but I started thinking about “like,” “love” and “in love” and the difference between the three. I read an article with a good analogy. The article compared how a person would feel if someone they knew died.

If they “liked” the person they would be sad, and maybe cry once or twice.

If they “loved” the person, they would be devastated; the death would leave a lasting impression, impacting their life. They would cry a lot more.

If they were “in love” with someone, they would want their own life to end. I think when you are “in love” it means you can’t see yourself living without the other person by your side.

I don't think anyone explained the difference between "like," "love" and "in love" to the priest. And based on what he said, I don't think it would matter anyways.

How Did He Know?

The priest at my church is on a six month sabbatical leave traveling in Europe, spending the time learning to listen. I miss him very much.

I have to say, I really like my priest.

He is different than any other priest I have ever encountered. He has a hearty laugh, angelic voice and a peaceful calmness about him. He sings the Eucharistic prayers and when he stands on the alter and gives his homily, he speaks with grace and passion.

He is a tall man, somewhere in his upper 50s and smiles all the time. He lives in a house on the church property, along with his ailing sister, and has a golden retriever dog who spends her dog days with the priest. He holds a blessing of the pets ceremony every year, and the area where we live is rural enough where people have brought horses for the blessing. The priest walks around with the holy water making sure to bless all the creatures, big and small. Once, we took a gerbil, so we qualified for the smallest pet.

My children are not intimidated by him and he always welcomes them with open arms, cups their faces in his hands and teases them. One time my children were talking to the priest at a church function and they found out he is a Harry Potter fan. Because some churches have made the series out to be about witchcraft they looked at him with curious eyes as he talked about how the series is just about good vs. evil. He won them over.

I remember one time a few years ago, after mass I was standing in the atrium of the church, and the look in my eyes must have been one of being lost. He walked up to me, placed his hands on my cheeks, told me it would be okay, he kindly kissed my forehead and hugged me.

I was actually standing there, watching my children in the distance, wishing that time could stand still a little bit longer, so they wouldn't grow up so fast. How did he know all I needed was someone to tell me it was going to be okay?

I miss my priest.

Embracing Death

Death. No one ever wants to talk about it. I guess I can understand why. It all depends on your view of what happens after this life to determine if you are ready to talk about what might happen at the moment of death.

Over the years, I have had friends who are agnostic, atheist, and to sum it up, pretty much every religion. But one of the most interesting, intelligent people I know, signed an agreement about 20 years ago with a cyronics company to have his head suspended in liquid nitrogen after his death.

I have thought about it over the years because it is such a unique belief. He is an atheist so he doesn't believe there is anything after death, so his logic is why not take a chance that he can come back in the future?

Not me. I hope at the moment of my death, I embrace it. I hope I live a long life, can look back on it with happiness and die smiling. That works for me.

Truth

"Promise me you'll always remember: You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think."

-Christopher Robin to Winnie the Pooh

It Really Did Splat

For most of my childhood, I grew up in a suburban home. About nine years ago, we moved our family to what some consider to be a more rural environment. When we moved here, I felt we would not be so displaced from the urban environment since there was a Panera Bread, Barnes & Noble and Costco.

Little did I know, my children would be going to school with a mixture of kids. They go to school with families who still run dairy farms and the children work after school starting at a very young age. The school has an equestrian team and many children have farm homes. However, there are also kids who come from very wealthy families living in countryside estates.

However, what opened my eyes to how rural of an area we live in is the number of animals we have encountered in our own backyard. We live in a rolling subdivision on just under two acres, in a beautiful neighborhood. Not at all what I would consider farmland.

The most shocking, and eye opening experience was within the first year of living here. First thing in the morning, I would let our dog Carson outside, and he would return to the door wall at the walk out basement when he was ready to come back. One morning, he greeted me at the door with something in his mouth. Having no idea what it was, I tried to get him to drop it on the cement. He wouldn't drop whatever it was. Finally, my husband brought some treats out, and Carson, dropped the item on the cement. The object made a splatting sound on the concrete, and I can only imagine the expression on my face when I realized what Carson had been holding in his mouth.

A raccoon head stared back up at me from the ground.

This was only the beginning. Many years ago, there was the chipmunk in the garage that Linus, our indoor cat, chased around as a toy. This summer, the chipmunk population has increased since Carson is no longer here to chase them away. Just a few weeks ago, I was standing in the garage and one came running in. He didn't see me and it was so funny, when I said hello aloud. I swear, I scared him half to death.

There was the baby bunny found in the yard with injuries that was taken to a local nature center, and he later died. The nature center also helped us out when we found three baby mice in a bucket with their dead mother by their side. They were named the "three blind mice" and promptly taken to the nature center with a cash donation to nurse them back to health.

Once I walked in the garage and a snake slithered past me. The first summer in the house I remember looking out the office window, swearing the giant box turtle walking across the lawn looked like a prehistoric dinosaur. He stayed in a box with us for a few days.

And of course there are the critters who made it to the attic. Once I kept hearing noises in the ceiling and thought there must be mice in the attic. No, those lovely field mice never made it into the attic. Turns out it was a bat. Sadly, he ended up getting caught in a mouse trap, and didn't die right away. I will never forget the awful hissing sound he made as he was dying. Another time, we heard something bigger in the attic, and set a live trap. Turns out it was a baby squirrel who we relocated to a park 25 miles away.

We have our share of deer in the forest, and many fawns. The kids love to throw apples from the deck into the forest, knowing the deer will come and eat them. It is so beautiful to see them looking up at the house.

Toads, frogs and salamanders are always around in the warmer months. Occasionally, they will make it into the house with my youngest son, Benjamin. Many of tree frogs have jumped at me, and have been chased around the house. When Benjamin was younger, he collected as many toads as he could find and built them houses in the garage. He called the game "Extreme Home Make-Over - Toad Edition." I swear, those toads had the nicest houses in all of toad world.

Of course, the house has been invaded by bees twice and the Bee Lady had to come out and remove the nests. This summer the chimney swifts invaded the fireplace and sadly some of the babies didn't live. Another call to the nature center.

The dead possum in the garden box was kind of creepy. I could never plant vegetables in that area of the garden again. And don't get me started about voles - I had no idea what they were until we moved here.

Yes, I realized I live in a rural area, when the raccoon head splat on the sidewalk, and I now know to call the nature center for critter questions. However, I still believe I have the best of both worlds, urban and rural.

The Illusion Feels Real

"The writer must believe that what he is doing is the most important thing in the world. And he must hold to this illusion even when he knows it is not true."

-John Steinbeck

Both Madeline and Andrew, upon selecting classes for their freshman year in high school were chosen by the teachers to be placed in Honors English. One of the required readings over the summer was The Pearl by John Steinbeck.

Although this is a relatively short book, I have found that people either love or hate Steinbeck's descriptive writing.

I love it.

As an author, he has the ability to write in such way that when you are reading the words, you close your eyes and look around you, and can visualize everything Steinbeck has created. You can taste the food, feel the warmth of the sun, touch the sand and brush the cheek of the characters. And even though they were all created in Steinbeck's imagination, the illusion feels real.

Because Steinbeck's style of writing is so different than anything she had ever read, Madeline was having a difficult time reading the story. I agreed to read it aloud to her and anyone else who wanted to listen. My children have grown up listening to the written word read aloud to them because I do believe some stories are meant to be heard, and I think anything written by Steinbeck falls into that category.

As we sat near the marina on a blanket at Metro Beach, Madeline and I took turns reading aloud the sad story of The Pearl. My youngest son, Benjamin, only nine years old at the time was fascinated by the story. It quickly became his favorite book, reading it many times over the past three years.

He is now is seventh grade and last week, he took The Pearl with him to school to read during silent reading time. His English teacher saw it and asked him how he liked it. After some discussion and the acknowledgement of his advanced reading level, she suggested he read Of Mice and Men.

First thing in the morning, I went to the bookstore, purchased a copy Of Mice and Men, and left it for him to find after school. He was so excited and started reading it right away.

That is what Steinbeck's style does to you. You want to read the story, so you can feel yourself in his illusion, and just for a few moments be someplace else, glimpsing in another's imagination.