Poor Babies

Today, I feel compelled to share one of my mom's recent blog posts. It details the testimony of an unrepentant abortionist and it made me weep.  Please read it before continuing with mine.

  

I haven't mentioned this here before but Chris and I lost two babies between Mia and Grace.  They both died between 11 and 12 weeks gestation.  I miscarried the first baby at home and Chris and I held him in our hands.  Our son Ethan was tiny but perfectly formed.  He was not a blob, a mass of random cells or a "fetus".  He was our sweet baby.

Do not kid yourself about what goes on at abortion "clinics".  Some call it choice.  The abortionist in my mom's article mentioned ripping off limbs with forceps.  What kind of choice is that besides a choice to murder--the body of a baby and the soul of a mother?  Many "good" people across our great nation--including our president--think that this is necessary and will somehow contribute to a better, more peaceful future.  But really--can anyone truly believe that God would create even one precious soul to be aborted?  

If you call yourself pro-"choice", I have to think that, with all of our modern technology, you have seen the truth about what you're supporting but have been tricked* into thinking that a woman's right to choose comes ahead of a baby's right to life.  You and I are on different sides of a great chasm, you saying "choice", me saying "life".  That's the way things will remain unless you rethink your position because compromise is impossible.

If you are on the fence on this issue, trying hard to empathize with both sides, please understand that your silence implies consent.  You are standing with Lisa Harris, the abortionist in the article.  Get off the fence and come over to the good side.

If you are one of those fighting hard for the little people who "are people, no matter how small", thank you.  I feel especially grateful to those who have been fined or imprisoned for their peaceful protests.  You are heroes.

If you are like me, pro-life but doing little to put your faith in action on this issue, join me in resolving to do something tangible today.  We can: talk about and educate people on abortion, donate time, money or baby items to a crisis pregnancy center, witness in front of Planned Parenthood, work on the pro-life committee at church, encourage the young people we know to choose chastity but if they find themselves facing a crisis pregnancy--life, offer support and encouragement to young families living the Church's doctrine on the life issues, make sacrifices in atonement for the sins of our nation, pray.  We can all do something and our actions matter whether or not they yield results on a large scale.  Let's start today.

*I say tricked because one of the ways Satan lies to us is to convince us to put a lesser good above a greater one.  No one can deny that choice is a good thing.  But the right to life is a much  greater thing.  

Baby's feet at eleven weeks, the age Baby Ethan was.

Baby Samuel, 21 weeks, grasps the surgeon's finger during an operation.

Amazing.

Raising Wolverines

Back in the fall of 2000 when we were preparing to adopt our dog Chaucer, I read quite a bit about how to raise a puppy.  One thing I remember is that dogs are pack animals and they like to sleep together.  The books recommended thinking of the bedroom as the "den" and letting the puppy sleep with his humans so as not to be lonely.  So that's what we did with Chaucer*.

I sometimes think our girls must be puppies because no matter where they fall asleep, they seem to end up in our room.  At one point, Chris and I bought a king-size bed to better accommodate the crowd but we exchanged it after a month, opting for a cozier queen-size mattress.  So now, we live with the elbows in the ribs and feet in the face.  Sometimes, we just say no and kick the little invaders out of our bed but they don't go far.  We trip over them in the morning on the way to the bathroom.  

Some wise people would probably tell us we should be more firm and that we'd all be happier and healthier if everyone stayed in her own bed.  Maybe true.  But to quote a favorite country song, I know that I'm "gonna' miss this" and I'm "gonna' want this back".  What could be better than a sweet little body wanting nothing more than to cuddle up to mine?  Our teenager has grown up and out of our bed and appears (so far) to be normal.  Sometimes I look at her and wish that for just a minute I could hug her two year old self again.  That girl is gone forever but I have a seven year old, a five year old and a three year old sleeping in my room right now.  I'll hold onto them as long as I can.

Poised to win the Nobel Peace Prize

She clearly wants peace--isn't that enough?

Bright light, bright light

*Chaucer has moved on to a better home with my in-laws who spoil him completely.  Every time we go over there he seems slightly afraid that we're going to decide to take him back home with us.  Thank you BD for being such a good mama to our buddy (Did I mention he's looking a little chubby?)

Memory Lane

It's that time of year again.  Time for the clothes overhaul.  I do it twice a year and have to dedicate a few days  to the project if I want to do it right.  Right means storing clothes according to size in airtight plastic bins that can be shelved in the garage.  Not doing it right means shoving clothes into plastic bags and cluttering up a closet for a season.  This year, I'm taking the time to do it right and the girls, eager to see their "new" duds were eager to help.

When I go through the clothes, I always feel a rush of emotion.  We still have a few things that have been handed on since Madeleine and they are full of memories.  For me, some clothes will always be associated with a particular girl no matter how many sisters wore them after her.  That's the case with Grace's first birthday outfit, Sophie's brown and pink dress and Mia's tie dyed Elmo shirt to name a few.  

Today, I was extra sentimental as I packed up the rest of what I would call Ella's baby clothes.  She's officially a little lady and, after today, a stylish one at that.

I bought this sweater for Madeleine when we were living in Spain.  All of the girls have worn it.

Grace admired this outfit.  It's one of hers.  It's a little snug now but check out the photo below.

MGD and doting Daddy

In other news--this is the prayer pillow I made for Ella.  For now it will be a pocket to hold her friends.  I had to sneak it into her crib for this picture.  She is very particular about only having her doll Elizabeth in either her bed or her rocking chair and she kicks other "friends" I try placing there to the curb.  Only 22 months and already set in her ways.

Prayer Pillows

Mighty Prayer Warriors

I hosted our October Craft Day at Casa Doyle this morning.  Our project?  Prayer pillows--a takeoff on tooth fairy pillows and an AMD original.  It was a bit ironic that I chose to lead a sewing project because I haven't dusted off my sewing machine in about five years.  Fortunately, my partner in crime is a master seamstress.  She reintroduced me to the ins and outs of my Kenmore and came to the rescue when my needle broke ten minutes after we started.

The pillows weren't an especially kid-friendly project and the girls needed quite a bit of help but the results were terrific.  My thought was that they could fill their pockets with prayer intentions and pictures of people they wanted to pray for.  Mia and Grace went one step further this evening when they sat down and wrote letters to Jesus to put in their pockets.  The funny thing about that was that I have been trying to get Grace to write "Jesus" and "I love you" for weeks.  While she is a very enthusiastic math student, she does not like handwriting and has been known to cry over it in frustration.  So this message to Jesus is a double first for her and I am so proud.  

Rain, Rain Go Away

You Can Stand Under My Umbrella--Ella--Ella

So, the upside of our weather is that we haven't had to run away from a hurricane so far this fall.  In the spring, Chris was cleaning out the garage and he started a sentence, "So, next time we have to evacuate for a hurricane, I think we should..."  I cut him off and said, "Next time?  What do you mean next time?  We're not doing that again."  Silly thing to say because I'd much rather be watching the storm on the news from a few hundred miles away than feeling it pass over.  I am grateful not to be living that particular adventure right now.

Not grateful enough to refrain from complaining about the weather though.  For the past couple of months we have had one week after another of rain, rain, rain.  I'm starting to feel like a duck--a duck with a very moldy back because when it rains in Houston, it never really dries out.  And the mosquitos go crazy breeding--something that doesn't bother me much because my blood apparently doesn't tempt them.  Chris is much sweeter than I am though and he gets eaten alive.  Unfortunately, he passed on that trait to a couple of the girls.

So to summarize--what I am is tired of....rain!  Give me some blue skies and cool weather please.  Pretty please.

Playa Fun

playing Karate Kid

Way back a long, long time ago in the spring, my friend Misty and I planned out the 2009-2010 homeschooling year.  We picked dates for Craft Days, Book and Science Club meetings, Moms' Nights Out and field trips.  We chose October 10th as our beach day.  As the day drew nearer, those in the know started predicting cold weather.  We could have called off the outing but decided to take our chances.  And we had a wonderful day.  The beach was beautiful and nearly deserted and all of the kids had fun in the sand.  Mia and Grace even donned bathing suits.  There was sand castle building, philosophizing, football throwing, beach walking and a competitive game of kickball--dads against the kids.  We also witnessed a tiny wedding that happened about 100 yards from where we were.

We left the beach late in the day and went to a park for a small cookout before heading home.  Everyone at Casa Doyle slept very well after our adventures....en la playa.

Dos BFFs...

....locas

This is how the more sensible of us were dressed for the day

predatory seagulls pining for our snacks

This is why.

construction project

running the bases

Always with the James Bond poses

More posers

So sweet

One thing I love about getting our girls together is the mixing and matching that goes on.

They all get along so well.

"Look what I'm bringing home, Mama!"

What I Like About You

Something happened in my Spanish class this week that has me thinking.  We are working on learning the meanings and forms of regular present tense verbs.  I like this part of the class because the possibilities for conversation explode.  It really gets fun.  I started off the lesson with the question "¿Qué te gusta hacer?" or "What do you like to do?"  I didn't tell the students what the question meant or even how to answer it but through a lot of miming and giving my own examples, they caught on.  I asked questions like "¿Te gusta bailar?" and "¿Te gusta nadar" (one student who answered yes to that question also told me that yes, he can swim faster than Michael Phelps).  Then I said, "levanta la mano si te gusta el español" (raise your hand if you like Spanish).  Most of the class raised their hands and I asked one woman who did not "¿Por qué estás aquí si no te gusta?".  She told me "I want to learn it."  I've been thinking about her answer.  I understand where she's coming from.  I chose Spanish in high school because I thought it would be easier than my other option--French--and I had a feeling it might be more useful.  (Little did I know that 9 years later that choice would lead me to my sweet husband.)  I didn't learn much in my four years of high school Spanish and barely tested into an accelerated first year class when I got to the University of Virginia.  For some reason, I stuck with it but I doubt I would have said I liked Spanish until...I did.  And once I did, I really started to learn.  I became interested enough to look up unfamiliar words in the dictionary.  I started noticing and appreciating the differences between Spanish and English and recognizing that Spanish has some expressions that convey exactly what I want to say in a way that English does not ("tener ganas" comes to mind).  After all of my years of studying Spanish, it was only when I stopped being a reluctant student and opened my heart to the task that I really started to learn.  

I think it's the same way with people.  Have you ever heard someone say, "I don't really like her but I love her".  That always makes me wonder a bit.  I know what that means--that you can behave in a loving way without really wanting to.  That's Stephen Covey's first habit.  But can you really love another person in the way God wants us to love without liking him at all?  I know if someone in my life were to tell me, "I don't like you but I'll always love you", I'd respond, "Well, thanks but no thanks.  I prefer to be around people who like me."  Who wants to be with someone who's there out of pity or obligation?   I know if I take the time to look for something to like about even the more challenging people in my life, I always find it--and more.  When I do, my heart opens and great things happen.

Next week in class, my students will be getting a sheet entitled "Señora Doyle's List of Things To Like About Spanish".  Hopefully they can pick out one or two things to inspire them to learn, learn, learn (and, if they're lucky, get an A)!