Come

Recently, I've been ever more aware how close someone can be to coming into the fullness of the faith or to leaving the Church. I've come to understand how frail the human heart is and how our mission here on earth is to love without reservation, while being very careful in our speech and actions. We are called to grow in sensitivity, not to grow a thicker skin. Today, I am blessed to share this space with Leslie McCaddon, who gives us all something to ponder before we go to Mass this weekend. Leslie will continue to share her sweet heart with us at her new blog, A Whole Hearted Catholic. Do go visit her there. Be blessed!

Almost as soon as I converted to Catholicism the devil went to work to keep me away from the Eucharist. I wasn’t really tempted to break any commandment, except for the first one. For the first year I was officially Catholic, I was literally paralyzed with fear to go to Mass.

It started with becoming conscious of the older woman sitting behind me sighing loudly because my baby’s happy noises were disturbing her. Then, there was the time a couple shook their heads and literally rolled their eyes because on my way back from receiving the Eucharist I missed our pew and had to back-track. Again, loud sighs. I started to worry about everything from my worthiness to ever receive the Eucharist to what to wear on Sunday morning. As a mother of two young children at the time (and one more on the way) I often found myself in tears when I realized we didn’t have “church shoes” that fit or that my only dress that fit over my newly showing pregnant body was rather wrinkled and we needed to leave for Mass 5 minutes ago.

The devil used my weaknesses. He knew that I was self-conscious about my disorganization and ADHD. He knew I wanted desperately to “fit in” and made sure I was acutely aware of every way that I didn’t. And, I was practically holding the door wide open for him.

I remember trying to express my fears and frustrations to a devoutly Catholic friend. She was concerned. How could I let anything keep me away from Jesus? “Just come to Mass!” she insisted. She was compassionate, but she couldn’t understand my anxiety. We were speaking in two different languages—I wanted her to tell me how to be the sort of person who had our “Sunday best” laying out the night before and she kept answering with “The Eucharist”. Sure, yes, “I know” I would say. But, I didn’t know how much I was misunderstanding. Not just her, but everything.

***

“You have forgotten” the visiting priest said to me during my first teary confession—a full year since coming into the Church. “You have forgotten that He loves you. God loves you. Very much”. His Kenyan accent and warmth washed over me like warm honey and the first cracks of light started to break into my confused and frightened heart. I don’t remember everything the priest said in that confessional, but I know I walked out knowing I had been missing so much. I had been missing the heart of my new found faith. And now that I was beginning to feel it again, I wasn’t going to let anything get in the way. Adoration was going on in the chapel next door. Up until that evening, I had never really understood this devotion—yes, I knew that was Jesus, but it still seemed “odd” for a bunch of people to be kneeling down in front of a circle of “bread”. That night was different. I was a changed person coming out of that confessional and when I walked into the chapel I felt filled with light. I felt literally knocked to my knees by the love filling the room and I knelt down, my whole body and heart, to adore the source of such powerful love.

Over the next few months I came to understand a little more just how much God desires my family to share in the Lamb’s Supper each week. He bids us, begs us, "Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened^, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for your selves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light."

I was comforted by our Lord’s encouragement to “take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed? (For after all these things do the Gentiles seek:) for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things. But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.”

When the temptation presents itself to put off participating in the Mass until I do the laundry or go shopping (and have rested and cooperative children) I am blessed with the vision of Jesus teaching on a hilltop—men, women and children coming and going at different times. I see wealthy people and peasants, those dressed in gold and those wearing little more than a potato sack. Jesus just continues to teach. He doesn’t notice what people are wearing or who arrives late or comes early—though I am sure he knows and he knows all the reasons they do these things as well. He just continues to teach and offer himself to everyone who has answered his call to come and listen. For some, answering that call includes long journeys (both literal and figurative). For others it is as natural as waking up each morning. He calls us all. Right where we are. And he loves us.

I am still a work in progress and I pray many times a day to be more organized and productive—to fulfill my vocation as wife and mother in the way in which He desires. I still desire to have reverently clothed children sitting quietly in their pews on Sunday morning, though I feel eons away from that reality. I know I am on a long journey towards perfection and I now understand more fully that I am never meant to make that journey alone. God gave us his Son. He gives Him to us at each Mass in the Eucharist. He gives us His Church. He gives us one another to love and encourage each other along our individual paths toward Heaven. He does not want us to be afraid. Nor does he want us to make others fear they are not good enough to come to him. He calls us all.

When I hear a mother fretting over bringing her young child to Mass, or having the right clothes to wear or knowing the right times to kneel and stand I feel so much love and compassion for her. Still, the best encouragement I received is the only encouragement I know to give. “Just come”, I say to her. We are all coming together to adore and receive Love itself. God’s light is too blinding to even notice our neighbor’s noise and clothes. We are all so blessed they closed their hearts to the evil-one’s temptation to stay away, and instead answered our Lord’s call to come.

"Do you realize that Jesus is there in the tabernacle expressly for you - for you alone? He burns with the desire to come into your heart...don't listen to the demon, laugh at him, and go without fear to receive the Jesus of peace and love..." - St. Therese the Little Flower

How do you do what you do?

I found myself with time to write, but a case of writer's block this evening. So, I went back through a file of questions I had saved. I haven't contributed to the question file for, oh, about two years. Don't know why I stopped filing questions there. It was a good idea, really. I think I'll return to that practice. And maybe this time, I'll be better about answering them promptly. Anyhooo, here's one from a few years ago:

For several years now I have been an ardent reader of your blog, message board posts, and various other articles, and I am just in awe of what you're able to accomplish in a given day. After reading your post this morning I called a good friend & said to her, "Okay, I have to know ... how does Elizabeth "do" all of this???  How does she stay motivated to declutter, take care of family, educate children, and do her writing?" 

 

I have a difficult time keeping my laundry caught up and often feel guilty that my baby is entertained by television while I try to get "caught up" around here.  So where do you begin?  Do you have a very rigid schedule that you adhere to, are your older children capable of and willing to give you a great deal of assistance with the younger ones? 

 

As a Catholic mom aspiring to be the wife, mother, friend, and educator God would have me be, I would be extremely grateful for any tips you could provide me on 'where to begin'.

Dear Elizabeth in SC,

Let's begin with the disclaimer: I do not feel qualified at all to tell you where to begin, which is probably why this post has lingered in my "question box" since March 2008. I really dislike didactic blog posts where the author sounds like she's got it all figured out and I often wonder just how old Paul meant for those Titus 2 women to be. I really don't know when I'll ever feel like I'm in a good place to advise. I do, however, like very much to share what works for me. And I live each and every day with the sure sense that there is never a bad time to shout the wonders of God. Whatever works, works because of His gracious goodness. Whatever fails, fails because I haven't listened well enough or been faithful enough to His commands. So, I'll share with you what works when it works and assure you that there are most definitely days--even seasons--of failure.

That brings me to the first part of your question: how does she stay motivated to declutter, take care of her family, educate children, and do her writing?

That's easy. I am motivated by the sheer joy of being alive and the awareness of what a fragile gift we are given with every breath. I know what it's like to wonder if I will live to raise my children. I have spent hours begging God for the chance to do His will with them. I had not one, but two extended periods of stillness in my life when all I wanted was to be well enough to be a good mom. And both times, when that gift of life was granted again, I resolved to live it to its fullest. I am eternally grateful just to be present in the lives of my family.

Today, I am often reminded of those hard days of stillness and fear. The reminders come in my inbox in the form of emails written by a dear friend. Many, many times those brief missives take the very last of her energy for the day. Sometimes, I read them at night and wake up in the morning with the resolve to do with the day not only what I had planned to do, but what she would do if only she felt well enough.

I don't know if this is at all helpful to you. I'm not sure you can take my experience and benefit from it. I think my experiences color every aspect of my life and because of them I bring different expectations to relationships and to duties. I am often surprised when I am misunderstood and I am increasingly aware that to live this way is almost like living with a sixth sense about life.

Now, let's look at the nitty gritty. I begin at the beginning. Generally, I have a grounded sense of why I'm here. I live to love my God and my family.  I'm not easily distracted by what's going on "out there." The one exception in my life was the wasted time I grew to regret last spring. That aside, I'm focused. With my husband, I prioritize and then I endeavor to live those priorities. I'll warn you, it isn't always a popular thing to do. And it's probably best to explain it over and over again (I don't do nearly enough of that--I assume people know). There are plenty of people out there who will tell you that I can go days (weeks?) without answering emails, returning phone calls, or nurturing friendships. I mean no harm and no disrespect. Quite the contrary, I simply mean to live simply inside the narrow parameters of my family life. I am very grateful for the friends who know and understand how I manage my time and love me anyway.

I start my days with exercise, the Divine Office and Morning Prayer. For me, those are critical to a day well lived. I put my husband before everything else. I carry him with me through the day and I don't hesitate to order my time and energy to meet his needs (and wants) as much, as well, and as often as I can. Marriage is a gift--to me, to him, and to our kids. I protect it with my very life. That means I don't always do some things one might expect me to do. Also, I prioritize according to his direction. I don't waste a whole lot of time thinking about it. I just do it.

For me, a good day begins in a tidy house. I have difficulty functioning in a house that's cluttered and disorganized. At different stages of my life, acquiring and maintaining order has meant different things. When we had three little children and only one car, my husband took a detailed list, three boys and his father, and went grocery shopping and to visit Grandma one evening every week. I power cleaned in the time he was gone. When I had seven children, was recovering from surgery and struggling with depression, we hired help to come in once a week. When I had three competent teenagers at home and someone to share driving duties and no one was nursing...oh, wait, I've never had that;-). You get the idea. Sit down with your husband; share your needs and your wants where your environment is concerned and figure out a way to get to order and to maintain order.

I do have a detailed, almost-to-the-minute schedule. I make a new one every season. And then I never look at it again. I just make them to see how it can all fit. If it can't all fit, something has to give. But once the schedule is made, I walk away from it. I have a general sense of what's to be accomplished in every block of time during the day and I hold myself to it, but I'm not a slave to tiny increments of time. One thing that is nearly non-negotiable in my household is naptime. If we have a napping baby, she gets to have her nap. That means I am really careful not to schedule outside commitments during naptime unless I have someone old enough at home to stay and make sure the baby sleeps.Usually, this means that we have a happy baby. We keep our eating times regular and our going to sleep times regular and then there is an expectation that everything else will fall in place. I paddle like crazy under water to be sure things swim smoothly on top.

I am usually  shy, but I am no longer afraid to say "no" in order to preserve order and maintain sanity. I am quite content with my community of eleven at home and in my heart. My focus is on them. I try hard not to assign too much baby and toddler care to my older children. An attachment parent to the very core of my being, I nurse my babies a long, long time (unless forced to wean around 2 years old by cancer or premature labor). Nursing means that my babies come back to me at regular intervals throughout the day for my undivided attention. It prevents me from delegating them too much, something that can easily happen in a household that has older children who love babies. I hold and hold and hold my babies until they squirm to get down. That said, my oldest daughter does do a lot of baby and child care. Much of it, she chooses to do herself. My kids practically came to blows this morning over who was to have the privilege of dressing the baby. In the end, Mary Beth won. Twenty minutes later, Sarah Annie appeared with a new outfit on, her hair in pigtails, and painted finger nails. Very sweet. For both of them.

In terms of education or household management, I make a lot of lists, think it all out. I'm very intentional. Sometimes, I get to attached to those lists and I start to bulldoze. But I do a lot less of that now than I did ten years ago. My motivation behind the lists is different now. I used to be motivated by keeping up appearances; I wanted everyone looking in to think I was capable and competent. Now, I'm motivated by peace of soul. I want to meet God at the end of the day and honestly tell Him I've been a graceful, good steward of the time He gave me. If my house isn't as tidy as I want it to be, it's probably not because I failed to do the important things; it's probably because I did do whatever was more important. And believe me, I think a clean house is important! It is not, however, a reliable measure of my worth.

I do have days when I feel all semblance of control slipping. And usually, those are messy house days or kids who won't do lessons days. Or both. Those are times I used to escape into the computer, because things stay tidy there. What I really need at those times is a little peace of heart--I need "quiet in a crowd."  You can get a fair bit of "alone time" to just think or pray when you hold in your hand a running vacuum. Now, when I'm tempted to go all "drill seargeant" on my kids because I want everything perfect right now, I vacuum and pray instead. If I get all the dog hair up and I'm still wanting to bulldoze, I do. The kids are probably in need of a good, honest nudge.

I'm a hands-on mom. I love to hold my children or to sit next to them and read aloud. Talking to them about big ideas or little mysteries is a happy thing. I'm fond of books and truly enjoy sharing them with the loves of my life. We are all blessed because I genuinely love education. When I face homeschooling, it's not with a sense of dread or duty. I truly delight in it (most days). That's such a blessing and I know it! I'm very grateful for the gift of that joy. I look at almost every encounter with the people I love as an opportunity to live a blessing. Once upon a time, I begged God to let me just read a story and then lie in the dark with a squirmy three-year-old while she drifted to sleep. He granted me the joy and I seize it as often as I can.

Oh dear! Is this any help at all? I do what I do the way I do it because it's the way God made me and how He continues to shape me through the people in my family and the experiences He's allowed me. At the end of the day--quite literally--it all comes down to getting on my knees and asking Him what He would have me do. And then, I compare notes with my husband and together we do whatever He tells us. I'm just happy He's given me such nice things to do.

Breathtaking Blessing

An amazing thing is happening in the blogworld. People are taking Ann's words to heart and emailing them to each other with assurances of genuine love. Wounds are beginning to heal. Warm embraces are being exchanged. Apologies are being whispered. A fresh, hopeful breeze is blowing across this far-flung community.

Is there someone you want to bless today?

Ann [and Holley] give you the words to begin:

"I promise I will never speak an unkind word to or about you. Iwill never be jealous of you. I will never compete with you. I will never abandon or betray you. I will love you. I will pray for you. I will do all I can to help you go far and wide in the Kingdom. 

I will accept you as you are, always. I will be loyal to you. Before our loving God of grace, you have my words and my heart in friendship for this life and forever with Him.”

Velveteen Me--The Years the Locusts Ate

The mechanical toys were very superior, and they looked down upon everyone else. Between them all the poor little Rabbit was made to feel very insignificant and commonplace and the only person who was kind to him at all was the Skin Horse. --The Velveteen Rabbit

Fourth in a series

This is the part of my journey that is most difficult to write, to share. About six weeks into the project, I had to come face to face to what was really tormenting me. My children are growing up so fast. It's astonishing to me how quickly the time has passed. When I began "the new habit project," I sifted through old columns and set them aside to post while I was away. I enjoyed reading them so much! I enjoyed re-living the moments they captured. I found myself wishing for that girl again. That girl--the one who wrote about ten years ago--that was the real girl I knew and loved. But where did she go? Why did she feel so elusive? And oh, what have I done to allow something, anything, to take her away and leave in her place an exhausted blob of a person who doesn't have nearly the idealism and enthusiasm as the girl she was? I don't want to be thirty again. I'm not looking to turn back the hands of time. But I want to take hard-earned wisdom and marry it to the positive optimism I once had in such abundance.

I sat today to write all about how I've restructured my time and my perception of the online world. but then I realized I've already written it. Nothing has changed really since those three pieces. Kind Conversation is new since then. It has a very tightly defined mission statement and I hold myself to it. Not everyone needs this kind of definition. I do. I use Kind Conversation as my portal to Twitter and Facebook, updating from there because being there holds me to that standard and the prompt is phrased in such a way that I am reminded to promote a culture of respect, dialogue, and friendship.   I give social networking--Facebook, Kind Conversation, Twitter--no more than one hour a week total. I set a timer. I keep track. I have to in order to guard the precious, precious time I have. There was a time when I spent more than 20 hours a week nurturing a message board. I honestly believed I was doing the right thing. I was grateful for a ministry opportunity that allowed me to share this lifestyle without leaving my home. I invested my heart into the women there with all good intentions. In my sharing though, I traded the lifestyle. I gave away so much of myself that I lost the real. Struggles on the internet have yielded at last to an insight about myself for which I am very, very grateful. I see that for me, in this season, I need to look away from the computer and sharply limit my conversations there. I can attribute the insight, the resolve, and the ease with which I can keep those resolutions only as a blessing of this time of intense prayer and fasting.

Right around the time I was wondering where all this was leading and why peace was so elusive, I got an email from a friend who was inquiring on behalf of her friend. She was wondering how we decided to go ahead and try to conceive after chemotherapy and radiation. The gist of her question was whether we had researched and worried about the effect of chemo on my ovaries and the precious cargo therein.

I responded:

I don't let myself go there too much because it's really a waste of emotional energy. Christian was conceived in 1991. Six months after I finished chemo and radiation, I asked my oncologist about getting pregnant. He said it would probably take awhile to conceive but that if i could, he thought it highly likely I'd live to raise my child. We conceived that night. I didn't go home from that doctor's appointment and consult the internet. There was no internet access. I didn't get bogged down in medical studies or anecdotal reports on message boards or anything else. I trusted my doctor medically and then I trusted my husband with my life and the life of our child. That's the way our marriage works. We gathered expert information and then asked the Holy Spirit. We discerned that it was God's will to be open to conception and we were.

Wow! The biggest decision of our lives and that's the way we made it. Actually, we consulted two priests as well; both of them celebrated Christian's baptism nine months later.  We have continued to make that decision that way for all these years. As my childbearing years come to a close, I am profoundly sad. I wish there more more babies. But I am also consoled by the fact that I know we have been open to every single one of them. I used to say (until very recently) that I have no regrets about these years. Now, I see that I do. I most definitely do.

I regret the way I allowed what I read on the internet to influence my life at home.

The thing that has changed is that now I look on those heavily- influenced- by- the- 'net years and my  regret is not that I let my children play with felted fairies. My regret is that while they were happily engaged, I entertained countless conversations with women on the internet. And I let their opinions, their judgments, and their understanding of the  faith color mine. Over time, the real me was rubbed away and what was left was a facsimile that was further from the image God I was created to be than I ever thought possible.

I regret that I made  school decisions, house decisions, even clothing decisions in a way that was so counter to the way we made childbearing decisions. And I definitely regret the time I spent "consulting" about such things. I have always taken the gift of time very seriously. I regret that I wasted time online. I regret that I allowed online conversations to rob my family of the wife and mother God intended for them. Those were the years the locusts ate.

~~~

"I tell you, on the day of judgment men will render account for every careless word they utter" (Matthew 12:36)

Kyrie Eleison!

~~~

My experience with social networking isn't a unique one. It isn't universal either. It is what it is and I am where I am.  The internet can be a tool for the good. It can be a font of community, prayer, and genuine support. And it can be a tool for evil mischief. Some people can engage in online banter or vigorously debate an online correspondent and click the computer shut and walk away, no better or worse for the exchange. Not me. I carry it around in my head. I laugh about it. I cry about it. I mentally write responses to it in the shower. I feel it. I live it. Some wounds run deep. And for those of us who feel those wounds, who struggle still to let Him heal those wounds, internet conversations can be a place of peril.

Let's bring the cancer thought to its completion. When I first got online, I joined a Hodgkin's survivor's group. At least I thought it was a Hodgkin's survivor's group. It was an email list that actually included survivors and people in active treatment. The week I joined, someone died. The first three days, there were graphic reports from his wife, delineating in detail his suffering. There were all kinds of posts second guessing his treatment, and everyone else's treatment. There were conflicting reports of longterm survival and early demise. There was utter confusion and despair in almost every thread. It was the blind leading the blind and they were all going some place very bad.  On the fourth day, the man died. I unsubscribed. I was about 7 years out of treatment at that point and I'd avoided groups all that time. I knew myself well enough to  know that I would take everyone else's experiences and make them mine. I'd feel their pain, live in fear of their struggles, share their confusion, and empathize so thoroughly that I'd never recover. That's who I am. That's how I'm made.

And I knew myself better than to do that. I don't believe that positive thinking can cure cancer, but I do believe that negative thinking can seriously compromise recovery. Recovery is too precious to me to risk. Ever. I am sure that there are very nice, medically sound cancer support groups out there online somewhere. Do I want to risk stumbling around in the negative ones until I find a positive one? Not really.

About a year later, pregnant with Stephen and feeling so happy and full of life, I found a Hodgkin's message board. I had one purpose: I'd get on and share the joy. I would shout to the world the good news of recovery. It just so happened that on that very day a dad was doing research for his daughter. He asked if anyone had every gotten pregnant following treatment, since she'd been told it would be nearly impossible. Oh yes! Someone had! I was expecting my fourth post-cancer baby. Wasn't that grand and glorious news? To my dismay, people started weighing in on how what I was saying couldn't be true. How "irresponsible" it was to raise her hopes. How I really shouldn't gloat on a board where so many people were suffering. And my joy? It was awash in tears of rejection and fear.  Never again with that kind of board. Ever.

Over time, I settled into a Catholic homeschooling mama niche online. Mostly, the conversations were very enlightening and very friendly.It takes hours and hours to form relationships online and I invested those hours. All was well with the conversations there.  Except when they snuffed out the joy. I didn't recognize it at first. Hah! I didn't recognize it at second or third or... Instead of clicking away, I tried to see the perspective of these "other people out there who must know so much more about God than me." I tried to believe their perspective. I formed my opinions and changed my mind according to the ideas and "authority" of people online, rather than using the discernment process of ageless wisdom. I listened and empathized and believed and felt until I wasn't even me anymore. I knew more and more about religion and I spent less and less time with Jesus. And the joy? Gone.

Anyway, I was slow to see the same dynamic as on the cancer board. Now I do. Now I know where the places are that I must avoid in order to guard and preserve my own interior peace. And there are lots of them. Apparently, I am a bit hypersensitive in this regard.This experience is mine alone. Why then, do I share it?

Because confession is good for the soul.

Because in writing I can begin to make sense of it for myself. Because the mere fact that I am able to write again means that there is healing. I stopped blogging because the voices of the people who would rob my joy had grown so loud that I couldn't hear myself think.

I shut it all down. And there was quiet.

The good news is that I found God there. I have quieted the voices of other people that have pelted my thoughts for so long and when I stopped hearing them, I heard Him.

Good trade.

Only God can love me back to real. Well, God and the sweet family with whom He has abundantly blessed me.

The whole series:

Velveteen Me

Velveteen Me~To Desire Him More

Velveteen Me~My Heart in My Home

Velveteen Me~The Years the Locusts Ate

Velveteen Me~New Beginning

Celebrating the 4th on the 3rd (and blogging about it on the 6th)

Our neighborhood fireworks show was on the 3rd of July this year. It was in our backyard. Literally. They set off a professional fireworks display about half a mile from my backyard. Since they had a done such a show just a couple of months ago, I knew that we would have a clear unobstructed view. So, I did what came naturally and called a few friends to come eat and watch fireworks with us. We had a wonderful time.

As people were cheerfully playing and eating and coming in and out through the back door for every possible convenience, I remembered past Independence Days that were very dependent. I remembered years of  pregnant July 4ths, parking two miles from the site, lugging a toddler on top of my belly in 90+ degree heat, hauling the picnic, settling in, and then--someone always needed the potty. I called a moratorium on that a few years ago and tried to persuade my children that we could have just as much fun at home. To my credit, we made a flag cake every year.

 

(Flag Cake 2006)

They were not especially beautiful cakes. Truth is, midsummer finds my energy lagging, particularly while nursing and pregnant, and my husband was never home for the Fourth of July. It's not my finest holiday. I've always felt a little guilty about that. I'd look at post-holiday blog posts and think about how I really needed to get my act together and do better because childhood only happens once, you know.  And my kids weren't having much fun on the 4th of July.

Mike was home this year.

We had a very nice party. It was lots of fun for everyone. And the cake? Absolutely beautiful! You know what? Sometimes, know matter how hard you try, the best you can do is just barely good enough. And sometimes, it's not about you. It's about the circumstances of your life. This year. I'm not pregnant. This year, my husband was home. This year, all the circumstances lined up to make the holiday festive and beautiful. And believe me when I tell you that we all had a hand in making the cake. Mike and Paddy baked it the night before using Ina Garten's recipe. I frosted it in the morning and then Mike drew lines on the frosting. Every year, Nicholas is very bothered that the flag cake doesn't have the right number of stars and stripes. This year it did. Nick and the little girls followed Mike's lines and we fit it all in, just so. I piped the rest of the frosting, Sarah on my hip, and we had ourselves a fine cake. And a fine party. It's amazing how much happier (and easier) things are when Dad's around.

(Note to my friend who is just days away from" boots on the ground": Sometimes, no matter how hard you try to organize yourself, push yourself, discipline yourself, at the end of the day, you're still just yourself and what you really need is him. That's as it should be. I'm praying you through these next few days and I'm praying your homecoming is grand and glorious.Please thank him for us. And thank you--for the sacrifices you've made and the hard work you've done to keep our country free and our 4th festive.)