An Homage - Redux from October 2006

She was born October 25, 1924 into a family of privilege. She lived a comfortable life until war broke out and the invaders placed her and her siblings in prison camps. Her father died a broken man, and she was left to care for eight younger siblings and a distraught stepmother. Before her father died, she promised him she would do whatever it took to make sure her stepmother and siblings survived.

She sacrificed her body and, ultimately, her soul to honor her promise.

Eventually, freedom came, and she married a young man she had met in prison camp, a fellow detainee who had been tortured by their captors. They began their life together. After the birth of their second daughter, they were forced to flee with the clothes on their backs and their babies in their arms because their blood wasn't "pure" enough to live in the newly independent nation.

Many years, two countries, and four children later, they made their way to the United States, where they began their lives anew yet again. Ten months after their arrival, their fifth daughter was born, American by birth and a symbol of hope for their new life.

To honor the sacrifices they made for their children, that youngest child, their brightest hope for a happy ending, earned her master's degree. On graduation night, she wept, knowing her parents, by then long gone, were walking along with her as she crossed the stage and accepted her diploma.

Eighty-six years ago this week, a girl was born into privilege. She lived amid tears and died at peace. It was a privilege for me to call that girl Mom.

Happy Birthday, Mom. I miss you still, and I'll love you always. "It's you when I look in the mirror... You're the reason why the opera's in me, " and I sing for you.

Four Years and Still Running....

....like a hamster on a wheel. A friend reminded me that four years ago yesterday (the 12th) I started blogging. I totally forgot about it, but I'm glad he reminded me because it gave me a chance to look back and see where I was back then and compare it to my life now.

Four years ago, my parish was beginning to search for a new music director, and I was on the interview team. It's now four years later, and our beloved music director informed us last week that economic necessity has forced him to take a job at another parish, and so the search begins again for his replacement. Sigh. This is a painful reminder that one should never get too comfortable in any given situation.

Four years ago, I was the mother of a 10-year-old daughter and a 7-year-old son. We were dealing with fifth grade and second grade issues like mean girls, persuasive writing assignments, a teacher who really shouldn't have been a teacher, and bathroom accidents. Now I have a teen and a 'tween, and our issues are, well, you can imagine. *eye roll*

It's been a four years filled with a lot of tears but even more laughter. Blogs have come and gone; some of the writers have revealed their real names to me, and I now connect with them on Facebook. My children have lived and learned and loved and laughed, as have my husband and I. We've had family vacations, family arguments, and family prayers. Friends have gone, and treasured ones from the past have come back into our lives.

It has been an incredibly enlightening journey these past four years, and I've tried to share some of it with you. Peace be the journey for another four times fourteen. :)

Later daze.............

Uhh....Uhhhh......Wha'???.....

....I think I passed myself on the street the other day.

I'm in a blur right now, and can't remember what I've done and what I still have to do. So, I will be away for a bit longer as I try to catch my breath.

Later daze..........