Easter Life

Ring pops for breakfast and Peeps for lunch. Living that Easter life, y'all.

We had a weary start to our Easter Sunday. We stayed up a little later the night before to once again convince Owen that the Easter Bunny would not actually enter our home. Whatever helped him get to sleep, honestly. He warmed up to the big bunny when he woke up to find marshmallow treats and matchbox cars.

The kids were well-behaved through Mass, and loved all the joyful white decor and the Alleluia that rang through the sanctuary. Obviously, they deserved a post-church donut. Once we made it back to my parents' house, family poured in and Easter festivities began.

We spent the day before working hard to craft the perfect Easter egg. Some of the eggs sat in their cups too long and the bottoms turned a different shade. Many eggs were cracked down the sides from the work of small hands, revealing delicate veins that looked intentional. We even busted out the shaving cream and glitter and food coloring and paint. While this year's eggs weren't the uniform pinks and greens and yellows on the front of the egg dye kit, they were perfect. It was within these mistakes and accidental designs that we came up with one fantastic collection. Each one is different, but each was crafted on a table in a house filled with love.

Imperfection can be pretty perfect to me.

One of the best parts of the day was when our hodgepodge collection of family members, including all the grandmas and one aunt from Montana, formed a line of chairs in the driveway. The spring breeze carried the familiar knock-you-over scent of honeysuckle and we watched the kids zoom in and out of view on their bicycles. Any reason is good enough for this bunch to get out and enjoy a beautiful spring afternoon, but Easter is the tops.

We celebrated the eggs for their flaws and not in spite of them, and Jesus celebrated us just the same. Even though each of us is marred with imperfection, He died so we can live. The image of sinless perfection and divine nature chose to live the most excruciating aspects of humanity because he loves us. Love won. Death no longer owns us.

I'd say that deserves one loud Alleluia! Rejoice, my friends, for we are free. Living that Easter life, indeed.

Happy Easter, from us to y'all!

{Also: Alleluia! We all looked!}

Joy in the Mourning

There's always a bit of poetry that comes with this time of year.

We watch the old turn over to new as winter threatens to leave and we bounce between short sleeves and warm coats. Buds wait patiently for the perfect temperature, and we teeter on the brink of two lives. While there's all sorts of metaphors and similes and I could weave into this time of year and this season of life, it's been a difficult few weeks.

Jonathan lost his dad last week after a battle with ALS. He died on Ash Wednesday and while we mourn the loss of an incredibly strong man, we rejoice in the fact that his battle was won. "Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return." He is where he was always meant to be, and he is better off for it.

While I could write a book on what my father-in-law meant to my family, I am going to stick with a different perspective today. I can't imagine the pain his children and wife are going through in learning to live without a piece of their heart, but I can see how it's affected my kids... and you might be surprised.

It was with a heavy heart that Jonathan had to tell Owen his Poppy was gone on their way home from school last Wednesday afternoon. After we gathered in the living room for hugs and tears, I noticed a shift in Owen's eyes. I knew five would be a hard age to deal with death, and I worried how he'd wrap his brain around it. It turns out he ended up teaching us a thing or two.

Owen broke away from our family huddle and darted through the back door. I followed him and watched as he climbed into a chair and lifted his small arms toward the sky. Shouts of "Hi Poppy! Can you hear me? You're in heaven now!" filled my yard and every inch of my soul. I stared a hole through my son who understood the joy that comes with knowing Jesus. Our death was destroyed on the cross, and Owen was psyched that Poppy was able to realize that.

When I approached him, he bubbled over. He was so excited that his Poppy could run laps without a wheelchair, speak plain as day, and see every goal scored this soccer season. He named all the dogs ready to play fetch in heaven, and he was floored when I told him Poppy's mom and dad were there, too. Never before have I seen someone thrilled about the end of a loved one's life, and it hit me like a ton of bricks. It made perfect sense. Life without our father, father-in-law, and Poppy is proving to be tough to navigate, but we are the ones suffering. Owen admits he misses Poppy, but loves that he's been made perfect and whole.

I'm also fairly certain he's having a good time rocking a grand-baby we never got to meet.

We have been a bit overrun with emotions lately. It will be hard for a while, but we feel the prayers and support and love. Thank you to all who helped honor Rickie during his memorial services, and for giving his family a place to lean. Jonathan's sister Bridget told me she adopted a new mantra: WWOBD? While it's not the best question to ask when it comes to deciding whether to jump off the top bunk, it's fitting in matters of the heart.

When it comes to his Poppy's new beginning, Owen Bauer has it figured out. Like Owen, we're all trying to find peace, but we're also looking forward to the day we join him.

PS: In lieu of flowers, we asked for donations to the organizations that helped improve Poppy's quality of life and help him live it to the fullest. Memorials may be made to ALS in Wonderland, Arkansas Hospice, and ALS Association.

Advent Needs

At CYM last night, the youth focused on readying their hearts. 'Tis the season, after all.

{Background: Jonathan and I lead the Catholic Youth Ministry at our church. We have been part of this ministry since 2010. We love these kids, and we enjoy getting to know them and getting to know Christ through them. Carry on.}

We're halfway through Advent, so discussion centered around awaiting the precious 8-pound, 6-ounce Baby Jesus, as well as staying awake for His return. One of my favorite ways to encourage these kids to get closer to Christ is through creative prayer stations. Last night's areas were called preparation stations, because I do enjoy a good rhyme. The one that stuck out the most to me {and ended up being the most well-received} was the simplest.

This station was located in a dark room with a long table. On the table were several unlit tealight candles and four words: Hope, Peace, Love, and Joy. The kids were asked to think about which of these four gifts they need most. Once they landed on one, they were to light a candle, place it next to the word, and pray for guidance. They were also asked to notice where the other youth placed candles to visualize the needs of others.

As I approached the table and made my way between the kids, I picked up a candle without hesitation. I know what my heart needs this Advent. I need peace.

I have so much love from the people around me, I rejoice in the coming of our Savior, and I'm hopeful when I think about where my life will go from here. What I don't have in my heart, my head, and often my faith is peace.

Reasoning: I have kids. I have three kids. I have three kids who can't go for two minutes without requesting my presence. I have three kids whose needs I constantly juggle, often to the detriment of my brain. "If he says 'chocolate milk' one more time I'm going to snap..." I know this is the norm for parents, but I crave peace.

I need peace in the constant worry that sticks in the back of my mind. I need peace in knowing I do the right thing. I need peace in knowing I am good enough. Most importantly, though, I need peace in knowing God is with me.

One point of note is the most popular need among the teens: love. When I saw the light emanating in front of the word Jesus Himself said was His greatest commandment, I saw how easy it is to make a difference. We just have to love. We have to love all of our neighbors, and we have to love others as sacrificially as Jesus loves us.

This post is all over the place, but I think I can carve out a moral for you. This Advent season, focus on preparing your own heart, but don't forget about your fellow man {and woman and child}. Love one another, celebrate others' joy, make peace, and provide hope. Jesus brings light to the world, but you could be the light for someone else.

Now it's your turn. Which of these four gifts do you think you need most?

Holy Week: Life and Death

{It's Good Friday, so I'm doing a little Holy Week reflecting this afternoon. Jump in!}

Today is arguably the most important day on the Christian calendar.

However, sometimes I get a sense that the cross bearing a broken Savior is a sad elephant in the room. "Today is Friday, but Sunday's coming." Don't get me wrong, I absolutely agree the glorious resurrection is something to look forward to, but I want to reiterate what puts the Good in Friday. I want to look at Jesus on the cross and remember why.

Jesus Christ was born a man. He was made of flesh and bone, He faced fears, and He felt real pain. Jesus knew life and Jesus knew death, but He put himself through the paces of humanity for humanity. With His last breath, we were set free.

Those who condemned Christ to death did not know what they did, but Jesus knew. It was the ultimate sacrifice done out of love. Not exclusive love reserved only for the most holy, but pure, unconditional love for all. Cool, right?

It is disheartening to think about Jesus's journey to the cross and picture the nails, the blood, and the torture. He was no criminal. He did not deserve what was done, but we cannot sweep the why under the rug. He died so that we may live. He carried the sins of the world on that cross because He loves us more than we can comprehend. He was sent to save us and while I am nowhere near worthy, I am thankful. Friday was good, my friends.

Rising He restored our life, but dying He destroyed our death.

I do encourage you to take time this afternoon to remember why today is so good. Whether you're Catholic or Baptist or any other denomination, don't skip Friday. If you're interested, I can even provide this handy dandy link to walk you through a modern spin on the Stations of the Cross with personal reflections.

Get ready to lift up your Alleluias because Sunday's coming, but today is Friday. Let's remember what He did for us.
"But He was pierced for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was on Him, and by His wounds we are healed."

One Thing: Youth Ministry

I spent twelve hours of my Sunday with thirteen teenagers. On purpose.

{Today I'm linking up with my bloggy friend Brittney over at Razorback Britt for One Thing Tuesday. We're asked to filter through our rambling thoughts and focus on one thing on our minds. Today I'm writing about youth. Oh, youths.}

For the fifth year in a row, my husband and I took a group of kids from our church to join with kids from across Arkansas for the fall youth rally. This was the biggest group we have yet to take to an event during our tenure as youth ministers, and that trend doesn't seem to be slowing.

Wearing our crisp new shirts to portray a cohesive unit, we set our sights on Little Rock. In my car were five girls from different walks of life. Some came from the English Mass, some came from the Spanish. Some had been best friends for a few years, and others met for the first time that day. There was a senior and there were eighth-graders. Each one has a different home life, different backgrounds, and different struggles. Although I love listening to the keynote speaker at these events and then celebrating Mass with so many kids whose hearts are on fire, I think my favorite part is watching. If I pay close enough attention, I can see faith working in these kids.

I can see guards lower and real conversations start. I can see inside jokes that will turn into "remember that time at CYM?!" I can see friendships begin, crushes develop, and questions answered. I can see shy kids muster the strength to approach others and dynamic duos split to allow a third. The best part about all of these moments is their one common denominator.

When asked the reason behind jumping into such a busy volunteer position, I always say "I want to be a disciple making disciples." It's my go-to answer, but sometimes they're just words. Sometimes I don't really see the point. Then I have a group of students tell me they spent the night before praying together or another eager to tell me she said no in the face of temptation. Many of these kids don't go to the same school or see each other outside of church functions. However, I push for them to be a united front. The youth are not the future of our church, they are the church. I want to do whatever it takes to convince them of that. I want to convince them that they, too, can make disciples. They can encourage, they can support, they can love.

“Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you.
And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age."
Matthew 28:19-20

The Cross

As I traveled down the blue-sky highway to first grade this morning, something bright red glinted in the sunlight and snatched my attention.

Dangling from my rear view mirror is a small rosary, a crucifix surrounded by red beads, which serves as a constant reminder when I'm driving. I'll look at it and offer a quick prayer, or maybe a whole decade. I'll look at it and remember the prayers requested by the members of my youth group. I'll look at it and just chat with Jesus for a while. Today, however, it meant something different. Today it reminded me that the cross is not empty. The cross is never empty.

Easter is such a big part of Christianity, but Good Friday is equally important. Thus, I felt compelled to put finger to keyboard and share the words that are heavy on my heart. This weekend we will remember that Jesus Christ rose from the dead, all bright and glorious, to redeem our souls and breathe new life into the masses of the world. While that is the definition of awesome, we have to remember Jesus Christ the human being, too. To rise with him, we must die with him first.

For those who don't know, I am a proud Catholic. That doesn't really make my Christianity that different than others, but it means the season of Lent is high on my priority list. Upon first mention of Lent, most people think of giving up chocolate, or coffee, or French fries, or perhaps hitting up the Friday fish buffet. Lent has become synonymous with sacrifice, and while sacrifice is an important facet of the season, that's not {in my opinion} what it's all about. I see Lent as a time of self-reflection. Of looking in the mirror and seeing if I'm the kind of person for whom Jesus accepted his own death. He carried his cross, suffered beatings and whippings and utter ridicule just to save my life. Am I worthy?

The short answer is no, I am not. And every Lent I think about what I can do to get a little closer to where He wants me to be. We can never be perfect, and we will always need forgiveness, but we can strive to love others the way he loves us while we're still on this planet. That's why he took up his cross. That's why he took up yours.

This time of year I also remember that Jesus Christ was just like us at one time. He was made up of skin, flesh, bone, and blood. His heart beat the same as ours, and his brain worked the same way. He battled his own self-doubt and worry in the desert, and he questioned God's word in the garden. He was human. I find myself in the desert more often than I'd like, but the next step Jesus took is the one I struggle with the most. He completely surrendered to the Lord and allowed his will to be done. Before we can rise with him, we must die with him first.

Easter Sunday is a time to rejoice, but we cannot forget the days leading up it and what those days meant. Each of us were in the holes in his hands, the nails in his feet, and the blood on his face. Jesus' death was not pretty, but it was the most important thing anyone has ever done for us. When I walk into church, I look at Jesus' tired body on the cross, and I thank him for giving me a chance. Even though I don't always deserve it.

When Jesus carried his own cross, it was laden with the sins of the world. He gave us rest. He allowed us to place our burdens on his back along with the weight of the heavy wood. And, y'all, his arms are still stretched wide.

On the third day, the rock was rolled away, the tomb was bare, and the cross was simply wood and nails, but it's never really empty. It's filled with our sins and the sins of all who came before us and will come after. We know Jesus Christ will rise, and I am excited to celebrate that with my family on Sunday, but first things first. Today I shout my delight in the fact that God loved us so much that he gave his only begotten son. I will praise Jesus Christ that forgiveness is an option. I will be thankful for the fact that there is still room on the cross. He died so that we may live. Let us feel as he felt, hurt as he hurt, and love as he loved. In order to rise with him, all bright and glorious, our sins must die with him first.

"He himself bore our sins in his body on the cross, so that we might die to sins and live for righteousness;
by his wounds you have been healed."

1 Peter 2:24

Holy Matrimony!

{Recycled from the anniversary post, but it's just too darn cute}
Today our church is holding a big celebration for all of its married couples, particularly the ones who have been married for 25 years or more. Being the youngest of the bunch, the hubs and I were asked to speak during Mass and give our take on the sacrament of matrimony while simultaneously revealing how much more we have to learn.

Gulp.

I figured we needed some form of preparation and I didn't want to pen a script, so I thought a post would help get my thoughts in order. Having no guide other than "talk about marriage for five minutes," these are my Cliff's Notes:

{Also, this will publish on the day of our talk, so there's a good chance none of this actually came out of my mouth.
Just take my word for it and don't ask the parishioners, okay?}
You may or may not know this about us, but Jonathan and I met at the same Catholic Youth Convention we take a group of teens to every May. We tell the kids each year to pay attention to who they meet as you never know what God has planned. An entire decade and a half ago, our teenage selves shared a dance or two, talked over lackluster sandwiches, and sat in the same group during an icebreaker. However, other than an email or two after the convention {this was the dark ages before cell phones and Facebook, y'all}, that was our relationship. Just one weekend out of the year.

After his first year at the University of Central Arkansas, I joined him in the same dorm building, we became fast friends, spent the majority of our free time together, and the rest is history. Well, a bit of a complicated history when it boils down to it, but that's a different post for a different day.

We started our relationship in July 2005, became engaged in October 2005, and married in June 2006.

That period of my life was a complete whirlwind and I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I mumbled a shocked "yes" to my down-on-one-knee boyfriend. I didn't know how hard it would be to grow up. I didn't know that you have to work at marriage. I didn't know how overwhelming raising three kids could be. And I had no clue what true love could mean.

After seven years of marriage, I think I'm slowly figuring it out, but I can't wait to see what it's like at seventy.

From the moment we fell in love to this moment in front of friends and family, our love has grown every day. Perhaps we don't always show it and sometimes it feels like we take a step back, but we're human. There is one thing, though, that helps me know we can conquer anything life hurdles toward us.

There have been hard times over the past seven years. Financial woes, career confusion, pregnancy issues, and general frustration have created bumpy roads and wrong turns. But the one constant I see when I recall our problems is prayer. Maybe it sounds cheesy, but it's real. Whether we did it silently or aloud, holding hands or in completely separate places, we did it together. The one constant in our lives is the desperate need for God's intervention. Now I don't mean that He parts the clouds, greets us with a warm hug, and places a blinking arrow toward the solution. Far from it.

To get us through these times, we typically don't get obvious answers. We may want them, but it doesn't work that way. Instead, we look to Him for strength. For the courage to face these issues, work through them, and find peace. One of my favorite things about Jonathan is his unwavering faith. I need this in him as much as I need it in myself. I need to see him give his problems to the Lord, thank Him for all he has, and love Him unconditionally.

Together Jonathan and I try to keep the light of Christ in our marriage, we work together as a team, we laugh with each other, we offer limitless support, and we allow ourselves to falter. We are not perfect and we cannot be perfect. We will make mistakes and our relationships will take steps backward. It's the way we get back on course that makes us strong.

Don't get me wrong, I am well aware that we have barely dipped our toes into the ocean of marriage. We have so much to learn about each other and about our life together. We have a long way to go and no map to get there. I'm just thankful that I'm on this adventure with my best friend.

And to think, it all started at a gathering we attended because of our love for Jesus Christ. Imagine that.

"We love because He first loved us."
1 John 4:19

My Pages

{photo source here}
"You're the only Bible some people will ever read."

This morning at work, as I was taking a very small break from pounding through the piles of paper on my desk {promise}, I was perusing a few of my favorite blogs. This little gem, as cliche as it may sound, struck a chord with me. I read it about four times in a row, highlighted it with my cursor, and stared at it for a minute. Whoa.

Those little words grouped together in that fashion is something I needed to see. If I'm the only Bible some people will ever read, I have some work to do. I don't know about you, but I don't often consider that point of view. As a youth minister, I feel like the only people I influence are the high school kids who sit a few pews down on Sunday mornings, but that's wrong. One hundred percent wrong. I have a direct connection to those awesome kids, but my reach goes beyond them. Anyone who sees me, hears the words I speak, and watches the way I live can be influenced. They may never flip through the pages of the Bible, but if they're paying close attention, they can read every line I have to offer. Sounds like a tall order, doesn't it?

Well, that's because it is:

"Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age." {Matthew 28:19-20}

We're all disciples. Turns out, we're all charged with making disciples, too.

Every word is open to its reader's interpretation, but when I think about being a Bible for others, I don't see it as a call to speak until I'm blue in the face. I see those words as inspiration to think about how I preach with my mouth closed. It's made me stop cold in my tracks to examine whether I live my life in a way that would make Jesus Christ proud.

Simple Answer: not always.

October 4 marked the feast day for St. Francis of Assisi. Funny how that works, right? I had one of my favorite saints in the back of my mind as those words popped up on my screen. "Preach the gospel, and if necessary, use words." is a quote often attributed to this incredible guy. This, my friends, is something I strive to reach. As a minister, a parent, a wife, a daughter, a friend, and a Catholic, I want to spread the light of Christ to others through the way I live my life, not just my words. I want people to see Christ as a haven because of my pages. The layers of life and love and hope and happiness and forgiveness and tolerance that I try my hardest to portray outside of the church walls. I want to show the world my fruits of the Holy Spirit. I want people to be inspired by the Bible I have to offer. Like I said, I have some work to do.

What about you? What do your pages say?

New Nora

{look at that freshly-baptized cuteness!}
This Sunday, Nora June's godfather held her over the baptismal font as her friends and family watched. The holy water washed over her sweet head as the priest blessed her in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

Even though she's just two months old, at that moment, Nora became new.

We had an incredible weekend, y'all. Friends from across town, all over Arkansas, and a whole state over packed into the front pews of our little church with smiles on their faces and love in their hearts. They were there to support our baby daughter on her very special Baptism Day. Decked in the same pretty white gown I wore a mere 29 years ago, Nora looked beautiful. After professing our faith along with her godparents, Tim and Rebecca, we told Father Alphonse what we wished for our daughter. We asked for her to be baptized into the Catholic faith, to receive blessings for a wonderful future as a child of the Lord, and to start her journey in faith.

She was not the happiest baby during all of this, but she later said she was crying with the joy of the Holy Spirit. I believed her.

{Also, she totally stopped the minute the water touched her. Thanks, Jesus!}


Once her little head was wiped, she was presented as the newest member of our church's parish and the choir sang a song that actually included her name. Then I forced every single family member and friend who showed up to cram together in the front of the church and say cheese for this epic photo:


One of my kids is looking in another direction and another is screaming at the top of her lungs, but despite that I'd say it was a success. And it's one of my favorites from the weekend. I wanted to be able to remember that Nora was loved by so many on this special day and a photo of their faces usually does the trick. We're a good-looking bunch, aren't we?

Once I finally released everyone from their photo op positions {after several family variations and poses, of course}, we all loaded up and traveled to my parents' house for an amazing luncheon of soup and salad. Now, earlier in the week my mom and I talked decorations. For the boys' baptisms we didn't really go all out. We just made sure everyone was fed and had a place to sit. I shared these memories with her and told her I didn't plan to fancy up the place at all. She asked if she could do a little and I told her to knock her socks off.

Let's just say she wasn't wearing any socks.

I didn't take many pictures of the decorations because there were close to 30 people to mingle with and my poor Nora was a little fussy and in need of snuggles. I'll paint you a picture, though. I know how much you like that. Imagine white lacy tablecloths embroidered with tiny pink and blue flowers draped across three large tables in the living room. Pink roses and white snap dragons were arranged in a bouquet and in small vases surrounded by pink napkins on the food table. Oh, the food table. Yummy crusty bread, delicious meats and cheeses, three different hot soups, fruit, veggies, and the most gorgeous baptism cake you ever did see!


{Look closely at Owen's finger in the photo on the right. You see it? Yes. Yes, he did.
Also, best family photo ever. Oh, that Nathan.}
After we all had our fill and then some, most of us adjourned to the back porch to enjoy the summery September weather. We watched all of our kids play together and talked about how odd it was that we were grown-ups, a common conversation when with friends we've known since we were Nathan's size. They played on the swing set until the sweat was dripping and kept going back for more. As we watched, we happened to notice that out of the six godparents we have chosen for our children, five were present. Therefore, I demanded to capture the moment. My brother had to work in another state, but he was going to be in the photo, too. Make. It. Work.


{Click to enlarge and see how smashing Tommy looked at his wedding.
He just happened to wear the same suit to Nora's baptism.}
Bridget and Tommy go with Nathan, Abby and Scott go with Owen, and Tim and Rebecca are the newest members of the club, helping nurture Nora in her faith. Not to toot my own horn, but I think we made some spectacular choices. All six of these people are big parts of my life and the lives of my family. Whether it's through support in my church, someone I've known since the day he was born, or kids who became our brothers and sisters in the second grade, they are part of who we are. They have helped shaped our character and our faith and I can't wait to watch them do the same for my children. For me, this is what being a godparent is all about. It's not just sitting in the pew together, it's helping these kids become more like Jesus Christ in everything they do.

I wish this for all of three of them and I thank each one of you who have vowed to help in this journey.

I pray that I can improve my faith as my babies grow in theirs.

Happy Baptism, Nora June!

Easter Story Cookies

These, friends, are not my cookies. No photos from me. Read on to see why. Image found here.

This Easter, Nathan didn't go to bed wondering what time the bunny would come hopping through Nashville. He wanted to know whether the tomb would be empty when he woke up.

Before Nathan's bedtime, but after Owen's, I pulled my oldest into the kitchen. A simple collection of ingredients was waiting on the counter. I opened the activity by asking if he knew why Jesus died on the cross. He told me it was because He loved us. Good start, right?

We went through the explanation of the Easter Story Cookies, step by step. We sprinkled in salt as a sign of the tears He shed, we poured in sugar to show how sweet His love is for us, we beat the pecans into pieces to remember what He went through for each of us.

Nathan asked questions and Nathan understood. Once the mixture was whipped together and dropped onto the cookie sheet, we shut them into our makeshift tomb (re: oven). I handed Nathan two pieces of tape and he sealed it closed, just as the guards did after the body of Jesus was taken down.

Nathan asked how long we had to wait until we could eat the cookies. He was a little sad when I told him they had to stay sealed until the morning. However, I reminded him that those who loved Jesus had to wait three entire days before the rock was moved.

He figured they were probably sad, too.

Bummer Alert: They didn't turn out. Instead of cracked tombs that were empty inside, Easter morning gave us white, crumbly messes. Nathan wasn't bothered, though, and I think the lesson given the night before was worth it. We will try again next year. We may even go for a different recipe, like these Resurrection Rolls.

Once we got dressed and tossed the crumbled messes aside, we headed to Easter Sunday Mass. We took our place in the pew as rain beat down on the small church and thunder shook the windows. Owen climbed all over his Daddy until the Cheerios came out, but Nathan sat sandwiched between me and his Grammy.

The kid sat perfectly still and listened to Father Alphonse talk about a tomb. A tomb that was sealed to prevent Jesus's followers from getting to Him. A tomb that was empty on the third day.

He locked eyes with me for a second when he remembered the oven-tomb. Nathan listened and Nathan understood.

It didn't matter if the cookies were edible. It didn't matter if the Easter Bunny brought loads of candy (if you read yesterday, you'll know he did). It didn't matter if rain washed away the outdoor egg hunt. The tomb was empty.

And this year, I was able to celebrate that with my son.

There was a great earthquake; for an angel of the lord descended from heaven, and came and rolled back the stone from the door, and sat on it... "Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for He is risen, as He said."

Matthew 28:2, 5-6

Soul-Stirring

If there's any time of year when my heart grows and my soul stirs, it's now. If you're anywhere in Arkansas, look out of your window. It's right now.

It's when I can see the buds forming on the naked oak trees and the jonquils that dot cow pastures turn their heads toward the sun. When I can finally unlock the back door and free my children from the confines of the living room. I let them put their hands in the dirt and their bottoms on the swings.

Carrying no coincidence, this time of year sets my heart on fire in faith, as well. We are smack dab in the middle of Lent and making our way toward Holy Week. I'd imagine when people look at the time of Christ's days in the desert and his eventual death, they remember a time of sadness. A time when the people of the world - people just like us - crucified our Lord.

It's a time when our hearts are heavy, but it's also a glorious, amazing moment. The exact moment when He died on the cross was the exact moment He proved just how much He loves all of us - no matter what. No matter whether we were among the throng that was shouting for his death and not at all expecting his resurrection.

Last night, the Hope Catholic Youth Ministry (for which my dear husband and I are youth directors) served as hosts for our church's Stations of the Cross. Six teenagers stood before the congregation and retold the story of Jesus's journey. They told us how His amazing example can be used daily in our own lives.

How he got up and tried again and again, though He continued to fall. How Simon helped carry the cross, even though he was afraid. How Veronica wiped His face without being asked. How Jesus Christ stood up for what He knew was right, even when it wasn't the most popular thing to do.

My soul lifted when I watched the youth read these words and feel these words. It was inspiring and I can't tell you how proud I was. I looked at each of their faces during the musical intercession of "How He Loves Us" and I saw it in them. I saw them deep in prayer, talking with Jesus Christ, and letting their hearts burn for Him.

This is my favorite time of year. A time when we remember that life renews. That fresh, green, and bright returns after dead, cold, and silent.

That the ultimate sacrifice was made so that we may live.

Thanks so much to my CYM for helping me see that year after year. Also, thanks for being awesome! I mean, who else can get their priest to take such an incredible jumping photo:


Have a happy weekend, y'all! Soon the Bauer boys and I will be off to the Jonquil Festival in Historic Washington and actually get out and revel in this gorgeous spring day. Maybe I'll see you there, but if not, expect pictures soon. :)

Baptized

“For by one Spirit are we all baptized into one body, whether we be Jews or Gentiles, whether we be bound or free; and have been all made to drink into one Spirit.” 1 Corinthians 12:13

The members of our church welcomed its newest (cutest?) parishioner on a gorgeous Sunday morning. Baby Owen was baptized in the name of Christ in front of three rows of family and a chapel full of friends. Beside him stood his parents, his brother, and his godparents Abby and Scott. The same Abby and Scott who stood by us the day our family began. Pretty special people, those two. :)

During Mass Owen was a champ, all the way from the christening oils to the wet head. He listened as if Father Alphonse were speaking only to him and he got a few laughs by yanking on his dad's tie. As everyone watched, I couldn't miss the love that permeated the room. It feels amazing to know my baby who is fairly new to this world is already an important piece of many people's lives. I was proud to dedicate his life to Christ, but just as proud to have so many smiling faces back me up.

On the same note, Owen had a pretty special loved one in the room. Someone only One other attendee was able to see. Owen was baptized the day before the anniversary of our angel baby's due date. I'm pretty sure no matter how hard I try to figure it out, I won't be able to make sense of the connection. I just know two things: that Owen has one fantastic guardian angel and that God has something wonderful in store for us. Everyone out there is blessed, sometimes we just have to open our eyes to see it. Be blessed, y'all.



Psst... more pictures of Baby O's big day HERE