Author: Emily

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McSnippets!

A few weeks ago, Hubby and I spent another one of our Detroit Saturday nights at our favorite Hole-In-The-Wall with our friend, J. It’s becoming a tradition to do this every Saturday we’re back in the Detroit area. First of all, it gives us a chance to get our fix of the best d*mn burgers in the area. And second, we get to have some great conversation with a great friend.

270That Saturday we were talking about childhood memories. The kind of memories that no one else but one or the other could remember. The ones that everyone else might think was crazy and make-believe. But the ones we knew in our minds were true.

For the life of me, I can’t remember what memory J had that neither Hubby or I could place in the back of our minds. And I wish I could … because then I’d want to see if anyone else out here in the blogosphere would know what he was talking about. As for me … I had two specific memories. Neither of which was “google”-able about three years ago.

The first one I had was almost a blur-like memory. A mini-TV show that played between shows on the local PBS-like station. They reminded me of the “Scho.olho.use Rocks” series in that it would always have some sort of lesson to learn. However, unlike “Scho.olho.use Rocks,” they’d always be aired during weekday afternoons. And instead of being cartoons, they would be budget-friendly claymation figures. But whenever I brought this up to any of my friends that grew up in the same area at around the same time period, no one could ever remember “Snippets.” In fact, I’ve been accused once or twice of making it up in my mind. Except now I’m here to prove that they did exist … because since the last time I googled the show, it appears that other people were remembering and wondering the same thing.

The second one is a little more personal. That same Saturday night, I told J and my Hubby about this memory I had about a Ron.ald Mc.Don.ald character that neither of them could remember. All I could remember was that it was a pirate-like character and that I saw a statue of him somewhere at an outdoor McDon.aldland playground out in front of the actual restaurant. (Remember when they used to have swingsets and merry-go-rounds located in a brick courtyard directly in front of the restaurant?) Both J and Hubby laughed at me, informing me that I surely must have mistaken this pirate with the Ham.burgl.ar. And furthermore stating that perhaps my love for Johnny Depp’s Captain Jack obviously extended back into my early childhood.

But see the thing is, I knew in the recess of my mind that I had a picture taken in front of this pirate. And so the next morning, before we left our home to return back to Chicago, I went rummaging through some of the old photo albums I managed to (a-hem) “borrow” from my parents. And lo and behold … I managed to find proof of said pirate. After showing Hubby, I told him that I now had to scan this picture in and share it with J … just to prove him wrong.

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But then I promptly forgot about it … until the other day at work ,when rummaging through my bag, I stumbled on said picture. Of course, then I had to show it around the office and relay to them the conversation I had with Hubby and J. And now that I had my solid proof, I told my co-workers, I had to find out exactly who this character was.

Well, duh … since I’m officially now living in the state in which McDo.nald’s was founded, it didn’t take me that long to find out the name of said character. Captain Crook (which was later shortened to just “The Captain”) was similar to that of the Ham.burglar … except instead of stealing burgers he was known to steal Filet-o-fish sandwiches. And apparently it was Officer Big Mac who would try to catch him. The Captain and Big Mac apparently got the cut in the early 80’s when McDon.aldla.nd began to streamline its characters. Don’t ask me how the Fry Guys (aka the “Gobblins”) and Birdie made the cut … along with Gri.mace. I mean seriously … what exactly is Gri.mace supposed to be?! *

272So there you go … apparently I really don’t pull things out of thin air (or from my a$$, as others might say). But ain’t it a sad state of affairs when I can remember silly trivial things … and yet I struggle with remembering where I last put my cell phone?

Don’t answer that. Somehow, I can already hear all those responses to that rhetorical question. Hmmph …

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* Silly side note: Filipinos use a vegetable called ube (pronounced like e.Bay, but with an”ooh”) in many sweet desserts. The color of ube is remarkably like the color of Gri.mace. My Hubby had this way of teasing his younger cousins that any desserts made of ube was actually bits and pieces of Gri.mace. Yeah … he devastated his poor cousins who really thought they were eating Ron.ald Mc.Don.ald’s friend!

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Un-"Self"-ish

I know. It’s been a week and nary-a-new post. And truly … for months I’ve been finding little to no time to comment on other friends’ blogs. Thank you for those that still stick around and read about my silly (and lately, not-so-silly) ramblings.

And before I go any further, I just want to send out a ti-gantic (as opposed to ginormous) hug to absolutely everyone out there in the cyberworld for all the warm sentiments and prayers sent my way over the past three weeks. I know my Grandma would be absolutely amazed by the sheer number of people that have expressed such loving and caring thoughts about my love and respect for her both here on my bloggie … and in my Fac.ebo.ok world. Thank you thank you THANK YOU!

265Okay … I’m sure I’ll have more posts about how I’m dealing with this loss. And I’m sure I’ll have even more posts about the week (last week) that my nephew came to visit on his “Spring Break.” Or the subsequent trip he’s making this weekend with his mom and step-dad and sister. But since I spent a lot of time writing the following blurb below … I figured I’d share it with you. But first … a little preface.

My good bloggie friend sent a “call out” for some assistance with a paper that she’s writing for her Philosophy class this semester. The premise of her paper is to cite examples in which life-altering events or times of crisis cause a person to question his or her sense of self … and ultimately a shift in his or her outlook of life and the world. *

So yeah. What better life-altering event might there be than going through infertility and subsequent treatments? And the after-effects of failed treatments? And the ultimate decision to give up that dream of creating a family with the love of your life … at least for now?

You bet I answered the call. And because the questions she posed certainly had my noggin working overtime … and because, quite frankly I’m too tired, as of late, to write a “proper” post … I decided to post a copy of my answers here. So without further ado …

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Hello, Interviewees!
Thank you in advance for your willingness to help me complete my senior thesis by participating in my interview call.

The purpose of these questions is to glean from a wide audience the ways in which we define our sense of self, and what happens when we feel that there has been a change in that sense of self. All responses will be kept anonymous, but for my own tracking purposes (if, for instance, I want clarification on one of your answers) and for the purposes of sorting responses, please fill out the following demographic information:

Name: Emily (Apron Strings)
Age: 36 (yikes!)
Gender: Female
Marital Status: Married
Religious Affiliation (if any): Catholic

And now, the questions:

  1. Do you believe that you have undergone a significant shift in your sense of self? (Please note that if your answer is “No”, then the rest of these questions will be irrelevant to you!)
    .
    I believe I have.
    .
  2. What do you feel precipitated this shift? Was there a specific event or point in time? Was the change gradual or sudden?
    .
    Hindsight is always 20/20. I’ve been dealing with infertility for most of my married life which makes this time period well over 12 years. I didn’t recognize how much I’ve changed since dealing with infertility until about two years ago. This makes me believe that this change has been gradual.
    .
  3. Describe yourself both before and after the change. What areas of you life or aspects of your self were most significantly impacted?
    .
    When my husband and I first started out on making our family, I was a pretty optimistic and overall happy person. I saw things as half-full and I saw possibilities in just about every avenue of my life. Mostly I saw the ability, with hard work and effort, to achieve any dream or goal I put my heart into.
    .
    At the peak of my infertility treatments, I can recall becoming more of a pessimistic person. I began to think that there seemed to be no use to going through the monthly regimen of ultrasounds and medications where I would have to poke myself with a needle. “Why bother hurting myself?” I can recall thinking. “I’m just going to end up disappointed once again.”
    .
    In other words, why did I have to put any effort into this dream or goal of being able to create a life with my husband … when, at the end of the month, I’m still not going to achieve that dream?
    .
    266At first I tried to avoid allowing my Infertility “issues” and subsequent change in “self” to infiltrate my life outside of my personal life between my husband and myself. However; the longer I remained in my “infertile” and pessimistic world, the more it infiltrated my social and work lives.
    .
    Socially, I began to isolate myself. It started out whenever I attended any social gatherings. I’d inevitably get the “Still not pregnant?” questions which I would, in the beginning, answer politely. And when I would explain to them our situation, it appeared as if the conversation would turn “awkward” for the person I was speaking to. After a while, the more I got asked the question, I’d feel more hurt and angrier at them. And the less I’d want to talk to anyone in a social situation. Therefore, because of my negative responses and actions (refusing to participate in further “children” discussions), people stopped asking me any questions (child-related or not). After a period of time, I stopped getting any invitations to gatherings. This then resulted in further isolation.
    .
    In work, instead of being the highly driven, goal-oriented person, I began to be the person that would always find things “wrong” with the current situation. Worse is that I became the person I’ve always dreaded working with; the one who was always complaining / whining about any and every issue but would never offer any resolutions.
    .
  4. How have others viewed your shift? What has the external response been? Are people quick to adjust or slow, positive or negative, etc.? .
    .
    The first person that ever brought up this “change” was my husband. And honestly, it’s because he is the closest person to me. He has been good about telling me when I’ve “crossed” the line from being just “dejected and hurt” to being “negative and hurtful” to others and other situations. And because both of us were going through infertility, that was hard for me to hear without feeling as if I was hurting him in the process, too. However, my husband has always been very supportive and has overall been great at adjusting to any situation. In other words, he was quick to adjust to the changes within me and has been a positive force in helping me realize what had changed. He is absolutely excellent in me and in “reeling” me back in any given situation when needed.
    .
    Socially, I’ve not had many people “comment” about the change in me, but never directly address it with me. I think it’s mainly because infertility is such a hard subject to talk about for other people. And quite frankly, I don’t see any other way that someone might bring up this “change” in me without first having to discuss my infertility issues. With that said, I believe socially … people have been overall negative and slow to adjust to this change.
    .
    At work, the only example I can give you is this: The year before I found out about my SIL’s pregnancy, my annual work performance review (for 2007) was “excellent.” The following year’s review (for 2008), which occurred after the birth and subsequent death of my nephew, Liam, and the announcement of this same SIL’s latest pregnancy … well, let’s just say that my performance review was less than stellar. Add to the fact that my former boss wanted to put me on a “corrective action plan” based on my attitude (and not my work or work ethics, by the way) … well, as you can see, the people at work were very slow to adjust and overall negative to this change.
    .
  5. What has been your response to the shift? Have you undergone a shift in behavior or habits or lifestyle? What about in the way you judge your own (or others’) actions?
    .
    267I absolutely hate the fact that I’ve become the person I am … or rather was during this period in my life. And I do say that in “past tense” because I am actively trying to change back to who I was before infertility changed me to the negative person I am today. 

With that said, I have undergone a shift in behavior, habits and lifestyle … and I’ve done / am doing it twice, thus far, in my life. I’ll break it down into the two phases: During Infertility (DI) and After Niece’s Birth (ANB).
    .
    DI: My behavior consisted of thinking of all negative outcomes to any given situation and acting on what the negative outcome would be (even if the outcome could be or ended up being positive). Using the social life as an example; even though a good friend might be having a baby shower … because this was a “baby” related event, I would avoid going to it without any given explanation and assume I’d have everyone, including this friend, be pissed off at me. Whereas the truth is, if I was up front with this friend about why I couldn’t go, I was more apt to elicit a favorable response and a perhaps form even stronger bond with this friend. (I’m just sayin’ … it could be possible!). Suffice to say, doing things like avoiding “baby” related things has changed the various habits we may have (avoiding baby aisle at various stores, including grocery stores, as an example) and the lifestyle we live (difficulty in relating to friends who now have children of their own; difficulty finding “childless” couples to hang out with that are around our age).
    .
    ANB: After the birth of my niece (my SIL’s pregnancy after my 5 month old nephew had passed), I went through a very very negative period in my life. And honestly, I would have thought that going through the previous pregnancy would have prepared me for this one. But the thing is, my SIL’s pregnancy with my niece was much smoother and very uneventful that I almost had no recourse but to think I was “okay” with it. It’s only after my niece was born that all this anger and negativity and pessimism rose again … and to its highest degree, may I add. But it was my reactions to the birth of my niece that made me realize how much I hated what I became. And it was the catalyst for me to change.
    .
    So as I type, I can tell you what changes have occurred since last September. (1) I moved out of state – while it may seem that I’m “running away” from the issue at hand, I view it as giving me some breathing room to decompress and grow out of the shell I isolated myself in for so many years. (2) I’ve started a new job – again, not to “run away” from my problems from my previous place of work. No, this is another attempt at growth … because instead of going to work daily “just to get paid,” I am going to work with a purpose and with a challenge and end goal in mind. That, alone, is a big feat … because my end goal is no longer focused on creating the family that may never come … but it’s a goal that I can work hard at and eventually achieve the results I desire. And finally, (3) Since moving, I’ve found myself making a conscious effort to find the positive in any given situation and run with it. I try to make the most of what I’ve been given and try not to think too much of the “What If’s” or “Why’s”. I’m trying to think of the future with a positive outcome … it might not be what I imagined or dreamed or planned it to be, but it will still be a good one.
    .
  6. Do you believe that you are fundamentally the same person now as you were before your shift? Describe as best you can what leads you to the conclusion to which you come. Specifically, what factors do you use to determine your core sense of self?
    .
    I think that there is part of me that still remains the core person I was before infertility came into my life. I think that my sense of values as to what is important in my life remains the same. If I weren’t that person anymore, then there would be no way that I’d be making the conscious effort to try to return to who I was before my core was shaken.
    .
    However, I am realistic enough to know that I cannot … nor will I ever be … the same person I was 12 years ago. There have been too many events and experienced I’ve encountered in between those years that has shaped me into who I am today.
    .
    I almost prefer to think that 12 years ago I was just plain naïve about the rest of the world.     I can understand how physical loss (-ie- the death of a loved-one / child / parent / sibling / other relative) or physical illness (-ie- pick your choice of terminal diagnoses, psychiatric diagnoses, or even life-changing circumstances like para- or quadriplegia) can be life-altering. However, I had no idea that something as “tragic” as the inability to create a life would break my heart into a million pieces and rock my sense of self to its very core. I had no idea that infertility would force me to look at who I was … and who I still know is “buried” inside of me today.
    .
    The difference is now I have hindsight to refer to. I can still retain that “self” I was before infertility, but now I can alter it (based on my past experiences) to reflect the true strength I’ve acquired over the past 12 years. I can still be that optimistic person with life goals ahead of her, but realize that there are some goals in life that I might never achieve … even if I work very hard at it. I can still be the same person who values family … even though my family consists of my husband and me with our three furbabies. And even if our responsibilities to the “younger” generation consists of being the best Auntie and Uncle in the world. I can still be the person who values responsibility … and still respect that there are some responsibilities that I am not responsible for.
    .
    I’m not quite sure I fully answered this last question appropriately, but this is the best answer I can come up with.

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268Well I must admit, I used up all my brain power answering these questions. And because I know I’ll be having yet another busy (but fun) weekend … this might be all I’ll be posting for now.

But between the rest of the blogiverse and me, I’d be quite happy lying on my newest piece of I.kea furniture and doing absolutely nothing … (Oh, who am I kidding … I will be enjoying the time spent with my niece and nephew!)

Yet again, thanks for reading my ever-so-interesting ramblings. And once more, thanks for all the wonderful bloggie love I’ve gotten over the past few weeks.

.

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* Okay, Ms. Kate. I hope I didn’t slaughter your thesis. Eek!

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The Inexplicable Feeling of Loss

I fully admit it. I’m addicted to watching certain tween shows. HSM? Loved it … have such a crush on Z.ac Ef.ron that just seem so …. wrong. (But then I think of D.emi and As.hton and go, “Hmmm ….”) Li.zzie McGu.ire (especially the movie)? Yep, like that too. So it was no surprise to Hubby when I told him I wanted to see Ha.nnah Mon.tana: The Movie. (Hey, what can I say? Being the music chick I was even at an early age, I always “wished” I could be a Rock Star!)

So today we headed off to the movie theatre and sat amongst many a grade school/middle school girls with their friends/parents and watched the movie. And even Hubby had to admit it …. that it was actually quite good. And “good” as in not a glorified Hollywood version of the TV show. That was most likely due to the fact that the movie was set primarily in Tennessee (now whether it was actually filmed there, I don’t know).

263For those of you that don’t know the story behind Ha.nnah Mon.tana, the show is based on the life of Mi.ley Stewa.rt, a teenager (Mi.ley Cy.rus) from Crowley Corners, TN who moves with her father, Rob.by Ray (Bi.lly Ray Cy.rus) and older brother to Malibu, CA to follow her rising career in music. In order to to live a “normal” teenager’s life outside of the music business, Miley and her father develop her alter-ego, Ha.nnah Mon.tana, to be her Rock Star persona. Trying to keep a duel-life prompts hilarity, a-la-Disney Channel style.

The movie was definitely a change in pace from the TV series in that Mi.ley returns “home” to Tennessee for a father-ordered “Ha.nnah” rehab. And it is, in general, the story of a teenager trying to find her true self amongst the pressures of being pulled in fifty zillion directions. And yes … I’m totally a sucker for those kind of movies. (Hellooo … “Pretty In Pink” anyone? “Some Kind of Wonderful”?!) So if anyone loves those types of plots … I totally recommend it to you. Yes, it has its cheesy moment, but it’s at the very least … rental-worthy.

The point of this post really was not to do a film review of this movie. After all, even though I write about a variety of different topics here, this blog is still primarily about dealing with my inability to have children. It’s a blog about loss.

So what does “Ha.nnah Mon.tana” have to do about loss? Well first of all, let’s talk about the fact that we were surrounded by leagues of tweens and even more 6-9 year old girls. And let’s talk about the moms that they were with. As I looked around, I saw that many of the women taking their kids to see the movie were right around my age. Which would have probably made them anywhere between 22 to 30 years of age when they had their kids. And seeing their interactions with these girls … well, yeah … why shouldn’t it break my heart just a little? After all, this is what I would have done for my girl if I ever had one. I would have let them dress up in all their “Ha.nnah Mon.tana” clothes and let them “pretend” to be a Rock Star. I would have stood in line early at the theatre to try to get the best seats in the house (dead center of the theatre). I would have asked them to invite their best friend along. I would have done all that, if that was something that they really wanted. And if I ever had the daughter to do this for.

But alas, that isn’t the case. And therefore it’s Hubby and I that sat at the end of the row, discussing how that dad or Grandpa (along with Hubby, himself) was a wonderful man to endure sitting through a movie just for their daughter/granddaughter. And how we would totally do these things for our kids just because we loved them.

264The second part that got to me were the various parts of the movie where Mi.ley talks about her mom (played in flashbacks in the TV show by Bro.oke Shi.elds). Su.san Stewa.rt apparently died three years before the series began. (Not in real life; just the show. Mi.ley Cy.rus’ mom is still alive.) And it’s those moments when she reflects as to whether or not her mom would be proud of her if she were still alive … those were the moments that had me unexpectedly bawling my eyes out.

At first I couldn’t understand why it was that I was dropping those crocodile-sized tears. To a Tweener Movie, nonetheless. But then I reflected on what happened to me yesterday at work when my manager (who was off that day) called me in regards to an email she wanted me to send. She apparently noticed something in my voice because she asked me what was wrong. That took me by surprise as I didn’t realize I sounded anything different than how I normally was. So when she asked, I told her about my Grandma Rose … and then I suddenly felt my eyes swelling up with tears. Totally unexpected because I thought my waterworks were otherwise under control; but apparently not. And that’s when she told me to go home; to take the time to mourn. To use my bereavement time that I was entitled for.

At first I resisted; saying that the funeral was in the Philippines. I mean, it’s not like I was going to actually be attending a funeral service/mass. Plus, I figured that as long as I kept myself busy I wouldn’t think about how sad I actually was. But apparently, that’s not what Grandma Rose wanted me to do. Because no sooner than I had told my manager I was going to stay until the end of the day … we received the news that the department would be closing early for the day. So I took that as a sign to use my bereavement time for this coming Monday.

In any case, this inexplicable feeling of loss … this sadness I have over the passing of Grandma Rose … is something I know I’m going to have a hard time getting over. Even now as I type this, I’m starting to well up in tears again. There are moments, like sitting at the local Borders and reading magazines, when I’m perfectly fine and happy. And then there are these moments when all I want to do is cry over the loss of my Grandma.

In 1973, Grandma was awarded a plaque for 43 years of service with the Bureau of Public Schools (another pic "borrowed from yet another cousin!)
In 1973, Grandma was awarded a plaque for 43 years of service with the Bureau of Public Schools (another pic “borrowed” from yet another cousin!)

The irony of this all is that this feeling of loss … well, it’s the same loss I felt (or rather, still feel) over the many months of negative pregnancy tests, the failed IVF attempt … and even the loss of my one frozen embryo that we “let go” one year after that IVF cycle. It’s this sadness that’s so difficult to explain … to write down into words. Whether it’s the loss of the ability to create or sustain life, or the loss of a well-lived life … it’s still the loss of life.

And as evidenced by today’s reaction to seeing mom’s around the same age as I am taking their kids to the movies … I still have those days (five years after IVF) where that feeling of loss surrounding my infertility are still very potent and strong. But there are also those days where I can take it in stride.

The same thing, I know, will happen with my feelings over the loss of my Grandma. There will be those days where all I think are the happy moments I had with her and how incredibly full her life was. But there will also be those days … like today … where all I can feel is that inexplicable feeling of loss.

And this … this is yet another lesson I’ve learned from my experienced with infertility. And yet another lesson that my Grandma (who remained a schoolteacher up until her 80’s ) has taught me in life.

Thank you for that one last lesson, Grandma Rose.

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A Rose is a Rose

I know many of my IRL friends know this, but my given name is a variation of both of my Grandmothers’ names. My first name is my Dad’s mom, and my “first” middle name* is my Mom’s mom. Coincidentally it is also my Mom’s name, as she was named after her mom.

With that said, both my Mom and Grandmother’s name is a variation of the name Rose. And therefore, my official name on my birth certificate is listed as Emily Rose.

This middle name; the given name of my Grandma is something that bonds all the female cousins on my Mom’s side of the family. Every single one of us has some variation of the name “Rose” in our name. It’s something that I’ve always thought was wonderful to share … and at the same time, wonderful to feel such a strong connection to our Grandmother.

Why am I telling you this? It’s because tonight I received the dreaded news that I’ve been expecting for the past two and a half weeks.

Yes, tonight (or rather Friday morning in the Philippines), heaven received another angel. My Grandma Rose passed away.

While I’m happy that she is no longer suffering**, I can’t help but be incredibly sad. And while it’s been literally years since I’ve last seen her face-to-face, I am going to miss knowing she is here on this earth with me.

Because regardless of where she was in this world, I always seemed to sense her presence around me; guiding me like she did when I was a baby and then a toddler. Singing songs with me as I learned my alphabet other important things (after all, she was always the consummate teacher her entire life). Slipping me candy treats from her purse whenever Mom wasn’t looking.

I know she will be watching over me up their in the heavens. And I know that she will continue to guide me throughout my life. But it still doesn’t stop me from shedding these tears. And feeling as if my world is a little less joyful. At least for now.

This is Grandma Rose at 99 years old ... the picture was taken by one of my cousins. Isn't she beautiful?
This is Grandma Rose at 99 years old. The picture was taken by one of my cousins earlier this year. Isn't she absolutely beautiful?

I love you, Grandma and I will miss you. Please say hi to Grandpa for me … and to all our other family members who have gone ahead of me. I am happy that you are finally resting peacefully …

*****

And THANK YOU to everyone out there who has said prayers for my family. I strongly believe that it was all of your thoughts and prayers that allowed me to “speak” to my Grandma last night (Thursday morning in the Philippines) for the very last time.

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* Filipinos have a weird thing about names. With me, my parents wanted to name me after both grandmothers so they provided me with TWO middle names; my maternal grandmother’s name (Rose) and, as tradition dictates, my Mom’s maiden name.

** In my Grandma’s case, “suffering” refers to the fact that she most likely suffered a major stroke, leaving her with little ability to move … let alone communicate. And as my Grandma always had a fondness for words and conversation, I know that she was probably in extreme distress about not being able to talk.

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Clean Feat

Today is considered a “Holy Day” in the Catholic faith. It’s the Thursday before Easter; the day before Good Friday. For those that are not familiar with it’s significance, Holy Thursday is more or less the day that Catholics celebrate “The Last Supper.” It’s the day in which Jesus breaks bread with the 12 Apostles for the very last time. It’s the day in which Jesus prays to God in the Garden of Gesthemane to provide him with the strength he will very much need the next day. It is also the day where one of his own Apostles, Judas, betrays him.

Yes, I know I’ve said it time and time again … I am NOT a very “good” Catholic. I believe in God and Jesus. I believe that the death of Jesus was the ultimate sacrifice for mankind. I am just not much of a “practicer” in the Catholic faith. No, I don’t go to mass weekly. No, I don’t participate in the sacraments religiously (no pun intended). But what I get out of my belief in God and Jesus (and yes, the Holy Spirit, too) is the sense of spirituality. The sense that there are certain things that are well beyond my control. That there is a higher being watching over me.

Wow … I think that’s the most I’ve really “talked” about religion in a very long time. But seriously, there is a point to this all.

The other thing that is both the backbone and the bane of Catholicism’s existence is its traditions. The “bane” of it being that it takes waaaaaaay too long for change to come to Catholicism … which tends to drive those that are otherwise “believers” away once a situation (like, let’s say IVF for infertility) butts up against an individual’s personal beliefs. I’ve had many many many friends from my Catholic-school childhood fall victim to this. Me included.

But it’s those traditions that sometimes keep a person tied to their faith as well. Personally, there are certain things … like Advent and Lent that I enjoy about my religion. These “seasons” are richly filled with tradition and purpose; but they are also filled with symbolism as well. Advent … a time to prepare for the birth of Jesus which could also symbolize the birth of a “new year” or “new life.” And Lent … a time of self-reflection, of forgiveness of one’s self and others; a time to “give up” something of importance in order to understand what it is like to sacrifice something for others. Yes … it’s those symbolisms in Catholicism that I truly enjoy.

One such tradition that occurs today, on Holy Thursday, is the washing of feet. Yes … you read it right; the washing of feet. During Holy Thursday mass, the priest will literally wash the feet of 12 people in the congregation.

What, may you ask, is the symbolism behind this act? Well first of all, this is literally an act that Jesus performed on all of his Apostles shortly after the Last Supper. It seemed like a strange thing to do because really, why would the “Son of God” perform such a menial task on those that were brought together to serve him?

Now I can’t be certain without doing a major google search, but I have always taken this part of the service to mean two things. First of all, it’s a symbolism of purifying one’s soul/sole in order for this person to fully comprehend the assignment of which he/she has been given in life. A way of cleansing any self doubt. And second of all, I believe that this tradition is a practice in humility. If the “Son of God” should perform such a menial task to others … then we, as Catholics, should be able to participate in our share of menial tasks in order to understand humility.

Yes yes …. I’m finally getting to the point of this rambling. So here goes.

The reason I’m bringing this all up today is not just because today is literally “Holy Thursday.” The reason I’m giving you such a lesson is because today I received my lessons in purity and humility.

That’s because today … I finally got to talk directly to my Mom in the Philippines. And I’ve finally heard the news about how my Grandma is doing … straight from the horse’s mouth. And that has got me feeling just a little less anxious because now I know for myself that my Grandma is actually doing okay.

And when I mean okay; I do mean that Grandma has been breathing on her own since last Friday. To top it off, she has been discharged home from the hospital in order to be surrounded by those she loves. Her IV’s have been discontinued, and she’s responsive to touch and pain. However, she’s still getting her feedings through a tube and well, she really cannot talk. But considering where she was two weeks ago … this is absolutely incredible that she has such strength inside of her. And that has taught me the lesson of humility. That we can prepare for the very worse and things could turn out better than we think. God (and Grandma, too) could have other things planned that we are still not aware of.

And purity? Well … it’s a stretch, but the fact that I was able to talk to my Grandma on the phone … well, that was pure joy. As my Mom held the phone up to my Grandma, I told her how much I loved her and missed her deeply. I told her that I wish she could stay strong and get better, but that if she couldn’t do so … I would understand. I told her that I just wanted for her to be peaceful and happy. And while I knew I wouldn’t get to hear her beautiful voice respond to me, I just knew that she understood what I said. That purity of heart and soul inside my Grandma … that is something I’ve always seen in my every interactions in the past with her. And that is what I felt today.

I miss my Mom. And I miss my Grandma, my Lola. And if I could be there to “wash” their feet … to show them some humility and purity (well, as pure as I can get) … I totally would.

Grandma, you continue to surprise every single one of us with your strength. I love you and I just want you to be in peace. I’m praying for you and for all of our family members … that we will pull through with the amazing grace that you’ve always shown us. Thank you for your strength in heart and humility.