A Little Window

Perhaps I'll start doing some video blogs. Videos open a whole new dimension on things. I often talk about my afternoons with Josefina. Perhaps people might like a peek at how we spend our time. Here is something more than a "picture"--it is a little window into our day.

The fact is, words fail me at the moment. I would like to express something about how precious these moments are that I spend with my children. I want to give thanks for what was, simply, the amazing gift of today (and there was nothing "extraordinary" about today except, maybe, the unusual way that I feel about it).

Anyway, here we are. I hope you are able to watch this.

Someone Else Who Is Really There

Lord, I am afraid of sacrifice. I am afraid of suffering. I can't let go of myself. If I just look at myself and try to find a way to give myself, there is no energy. There is no capacity. I am trapped.

It's when I find You that everything changes. You surprise me by bursting into my life in so many unforeseen ways. "Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world!" Behold, behold, listen to the voice of love that is calling me right in this moment. Here and now, there is the possibility to love. And I find it outside of myself. I find it in the midst of life.

I am so self absorbed. I need to be silent, to be aware, to listen. O Lord Jesus, open my heart. I beg You to draw me away from myself. Draw me, so that I can recognize Your presence, and act with love--give myself away, because I know I am giving myself to You.

But I don't want to look. I want to stay alone, and surround myself with things that are under my control. My only hope is that there is Someone Else who is really there, who takes the initiative, who never gives up on me.

Jesus, never give up on me.

Same Place, Same Miracle

I've thought of a good idea for catching up when I fall behind on the blog: I'll just plagiarize myself! This is something I posted last year at this time, in the midst of the St. Patrick-St. Joseph holiday spree in the middle of Lent. It was a busy weekend, and, like last year, we went to some parties with our friends. I must say, however, that our friends are extraordinary people. They are the special people that Jesus has given us in His great mercy to be companions on our journey toward Him. With all their faults and incoherence, they have met Christ and they try to follow Him in His Church. We are a small fragile group, full of all the problems that afflict ordinary human life, and yet at the same time we are a people. At a simple party, I glimpse again that light that shines in the midst of any community that gathers in recognition of His presence, and in the desire to follow Him. Right here in Front Royal, there is what Msgr. Giussani calls the "different humanity." And it is not a narrow thing. It aspires to the whole world. Here's what I wrote last year, after the St. Patrick's Day party. I can still say the same thing today:

I did not begin to take Christ seriously in my life because I had a mystical vision, or some kind of paranormal experience. I discovered, in a new way, that Christ was real when I met a group of friends who really followed Him, and who also lived life with exuberance, vitality, interest, freedom, and joy. People who were able to be themselves without constraint, who were glad to be alive, who were ready to give and sacrifice themselves and also to have fun, whenever having fun was the appropriate way to respond to the reality at hand. And it is often appropriate, because real human life is full of so much that is ironic, so much that is beyond our control, unexpected, petty, burdensome, so much that is a little bit ridiculous.

In front of real human life, some are cynical, while others are distracted, detached, or sad. The miracle in front of real human life is cheerfulness, an innocent spirit of fun that is not dislodged by life because it knows the place of everything. It is a playful wisdom. It is joy.

This is what converted me to Christ. Not scrupulous religious intensity. Not intellectual brilliance. Not the desire for a safe place to hide. What converted me was meeting a group of people who believed that it might be possible for life to be fun after all--and that the laughter of children was not a deception destined to end in disappointment. Not because life is easy, but because there is Something that makes every minute of it worth living, even embracing with joy.

This is what converted me to Christ: the miracle of human beings who were glad to be alive, who were full of hope, who were not afraid. 

Never Give Up

"Heavenly mother,
I ask you for the miracle of my healing;
if this is not God’s will,
I ask you to give me the strength
to never give up!"


Blessed Chiara Badano

We Do Not Have a Normal Life

Flare up. Don't worry. It's okay. I'm fine.

This is a household in which the husband and father has a disability. People who have read my book have heard all about that (http://t.co/ddwYeqX). It's not the kind of disability people usually imagine: I have two arms and two legs and I can talk and walk and see and hear. I don't have much pain these days and I have a reasonable amount of energy. I am able to do some "productive work," and maintain at least some elements of my profession (even though I am "officially" retired--how odd that is, to be "retired" and have five children under the age of fifteen). Eileen works for love, and for our own children as much as the others, but the school also pay her money for it, and that's a good thing. We patch together what we can and we manage.

We do not have a normal life. We have a beautiful life, but it's not normal. I hope that as they pass through adolescence, our children will be able to continue to embrace the sacrifices of this life. I worry sometimes because I think that, as they grow up, they will be tempted to be ashamed of their father. What does he "do"?

When I wrote Never Give Up ( http://t.co/ddwYeqX), I said to myself, "you realize that by publishing this you are insuring that no one will ever hire you for a 'regular job' ever again...." John Janaro is brilliant, articulate, insightful, talented in so many ways; what a shame that he's such a train wreck!

I have a chronic illness. It appears to be in remission and under control. But late stage Lyme disease is a systemic infection. Nobody knows what role it might still play in the problems that continue to afflict me.

I also have a neurobiological disorder (probably inherited) that inclines me to anxiety, depression, obsessions, and all sorts of mental hangups. Lyme disease may exacerbate it. Nobody really knows. We keep me going with medications and therapy and diet. Sometimes I just have flare-ups of mental disturbance. The doctors say it will probably always be that way.

But still I wonder at my incompetence and my inability to deal with stress, "how much of this is illness, and how much of it is just spiritual laziness, the unwillingness to love?"

Sick people often have this question, "Is it my fault?" It's not a simple question. I know the illness is not my fault. I know there are some things I can't help. But sometimes I use sickness as an excuse to close in on myself, to refuse to love, to refuse to grow, to justify my "I won't!" by saying "I can't!" I know I am doing this. How much am I doing it? A lot!

I should not be so surprised at myself. We all do this. We all have our barriers and defenses that we have built up against God's love. We all have our ways of evading Him; especially, we have ways of hiding from His presence and His invitation to love in the people and circumstances of the life He gives us every day.

We all need to be broken and healed and made new. That's what's happening in our lives. It takes time.

We Can Be Together

We really can't live together without forgiveness.

And the foundation for forgiveness is the recognition of the fact that the other person is not perfect. The closer we are to each other, the more important it is to remember this fact. When we are close, when we live in community, when we live under the same roof, we depend on one another. We rely on one another's help.

And we must challenge one another to love and to give. That's why we've been put together in the first place.

Still, we will encounter one another's limits, and indeed be frustrated by the limits we find within ourselves. In so many places, our own inadequacy runs into the other person's fragility and weakness. These are the especially difficult moments when we must suffer because of one another. Even here, though, we can be together, we can suffer together.

I can make "space" within myself for the other. We can accept each other--even more, we can affirm each other right there where our weaknesses come together; we can say with our actions, our patience, and our discretion, "I love you, right now, in this moment." This requires true sacrifice. But here, especially, we grow in love.

Still there will be failures, every day. If we really love one another, we will be humbled. But we will also find the secret courage to grow in unity and solidarity along the path of daily life.

The Light of Christ: Blessed Chiara Luce Badano

This is the official Beatification image of Blessed Chiara "Luce" Badano, who lived the charism of the Focolare movement, and died from a rare and painful form of bone cancer at the age of 18, in 1990. She was beatified in 2010. I was "researching" on the internet and I "stumbled" upon her story. Here, read about her yourself:

http://www.chiaraluce.org/

I felt like just throwing my silly book in the trash, but then I began to look at its words again, and I said to myself, "No, she understands what you are trying to say here, much better than you do. She understands suffering. She understands you."

Blessed Chiara Badano offered her life in union with Jesus's cry of abandonment on the Cross.

And I saw this face. All the theology books in the world are not worth a single human face. Now, when I look at the faces of my wife and children I feel as though I am seeing them for the first time.

I too follow a charism, an "ecclesial movement." Alas, I have not been a very good follower. But I have seen faces like this, although they are still always new, every time. This is what Msgr. Giussani calls "a different humanity." I recognize the human person, and yet at the same time it is clear that there is "Something Else," there is something new in this person's life that sets everything on fire!

Here the fire transforms the limits of human endurance into joy.

But I have seen this fire in many faces, living and renewing, bringing an energy, a joy, a hope, a friendship. A different humanity. It comes from a living man, a man named Jesus.

There is a glimpse of this light in every human face.

An Affirmation of Reality

This blog is a place where I reflect on my life, and lay it out there for others to have a look. I have no "strategy" here except to write things that are on my mind and in my heart, things that seem important to me and that are leading me in a certain direction. That means Jesus comes up a lot. What can I say? Jesus is the center of my life.

That is not a "pious statement." It is, simply, a fact. It is the truth. It is the truth about my life and about the life of every human being. I'm not trying to "look at my life from a Christian point of view." It is not about my "cultural outlook" or my "Traditional Catholic Ideas" or my "theology."

It is a statement of faith. But faith is an affirmation of reality. It is a way of adhering to the truth.

My life is not meant to be an exercise in trying to apply my theories about Jesus to ordinary circumstances. My life is living with Jesus, really. That is the truth about my actual life, whatever my theories may be.

I'm not trying to say I'm a saint. For me, living with Jesus means ignoring Him most of the time, trying to manipulate Him sometimes, trying to use Him to my own advantage, but also continually rediscovering again and again that He is really here, that He loves me, and that He is the One who is in charge...of everything.

A living faith means bumping into Him again and again, finding Him in reality, finding Him shedding light on things, and bringing joy and strength. It means finding Him in desperation and misery and pain, finding Him suffering with me. It means sometimes feeling that I can't find Him, but still knowing that He is with me in the darkness.

I hope this blog expresses, at least from time to time, something greater than my thoughts and insights and devotions. I hope it expresses, sometimes, the wonder of recognizing His presence.

Winter? What's That?

The weather continues to be marvelous!

This has been the most consistently pleasant winter that I can remember in the middle Atlantic region of the East coast of the United States of America. Sunny days. 50 degree (F) temperatures, and sometimes 60s. Virtually no snow! Barely a hint of the icky, cold, wet stuff that usually covers the driveway and the walkway and that nobody in this part of the country knows how to drive in. I don't think I've had to brush a single snowflake off my car this entire winter (an occasional ice scraping has been necessary in the morning, but no snow).

We had a snowstorm in October. And it would be funny if we had another snowstorm in April. The season of Winter, however, has less than two weeks to live. I'm almost sorry to see it go. It has been delightful.

I know that I should feel bad. We need snow for the reservoir levels. We're going to have a drought this summer. Right? Shame on me!

And where is my empathy? It was all due to a shift in the jet stream that gave Europe a miserable winter while we were playing tennis in January. I should feel sorry for all those poor Romans who had no boots to get around in the snow.

Finally, all of this is a symptom of an impending ecological catastrophe. Right?

Well, I hope not.

Meanwhile, with blissful ignorance and completely selfish pleasure, I have enjoyed my mild Winter.

[If you actually read this, you'll know to mention the password: BLOONK! - haha]

It's March 9, and the Forsythia bush is starting to bloom!

Our Intimate Friend

We should talk to Mary, like the intimate friend she is ready to be for each of us. We can tell her the things in our hearts. She will put our hearts inside her own immaculate heart.

Mary makes things come into focus. She shows the next step, and how to make it, and she holds us as we stumble and move forward. In front of our destiny we are such tiny children.

Alex In The House

Alex is getting bigger.

I guess its time for the kids to do another post on "the kitten" who is becoming a full fledged cat.

Alex, you may remember, is our "outdoor cat," ha, ha, because Daddy is allergic to cats. Of course we've had winter, and even though its been a mild winter, nights are cold. Alex can't be left out in the cold.

As a result, the second bathroom has been outfitted with a cat-bed, and other pieces of cat paraphernalia. It has become, in effect, "Alex's bedroom." This poses no difficulty for anyone else in the house, in the event that it becomes necessary to use said bathroom for other purposes. For Daddy, however, the room had become toxic. But as long as I don't have to fight for the main bathroom, I guess that's okay.

So Alex has established a place in the house. Each night, the children bring her inside, and then take her out again in the morning. As soon as the nights warm up, Alex will return to her outdoor habitation full time. I shall be glad because, unfortunately, I do "notice" when the cat is in the house. But its not too bad as long as I stay away from her.

And I must say, I am sorry that I cannot be more a part of her life. To my great surprise, I have become...well...fond of her. Its nice to come home and find her playing in the yard, or poking around in the carport. I don't know if she has caught a mouse yet, but she does eat crickets, which is very convenient. But she is more than just "useful." A few weeks ago she sprained her foot (or something) and was walking with a little limp. I felt concerned!

You must understand, I've never had any pets in my life except for goldfish.

So I am surprised to find myself bonding emotionally with a cat. And it has nothing to do with the children. I like Alex. When I come home from somewhere, I am disappointed if she doesn't notice me.

I think she even "knows"--in her catlike way--that my keeping my distance from her is not hostile. We have a way of greeting each other; we sort of make eye contact, with a mutual understanding and respect.

For My Beloved Wife, On Her Birthday

Eileen Janaro is a contemplative soul,
a poetic soul,
a receptive soul,
who takes everything into her depths
and holds it in her vast silence.

Every morning she hears Divine love poems,
whispering in the clamor of children
and the struggling man
whose health she needs so much
but whose sickness
she is always ready to bear.

She listens to these secret promises of glory
as she takes the day upon her shoulders
and puts all its parts in place.
She has no time to brood over mistakes,
but puts her trust in mercy,
quietly sets things right as best as she can,
and then keeps going,
taking up the next thing at hand,
embracing it with open heart,
and a practical mind that still
tastes the flavor of the poetry of the day.

At night she is tired.
My lovely woman is tired.
We are both tired
but we are together
and who would have thought
that this could be a modality of love?

When the waking moments draw to an end,
and we stand together before God,
I know that once again
she is saying "yes" to me in my weakness,
and that I am trying once again
to carry her with my broken heart.
The way she loves life is sustenance to me,
and by some miracle I hold her up
as we travel my path of healing.

I see her beauty still.
It is much more vivid after these many years.
I see her beauty inside of time,
a luminous patience
and determination
and hope.
She knows that I cherish
in my soul
this great enduring beauty.

Thus we are held in that mysterious bond,
the Great Mystery of day after day.
And thus we hold each other,
and give each other courage.

"Stay Close To Mary"

It is the First Saturday of March. A day to draw particularly close to the all-pure, loving, Immaculate Heart of Mary. O Mother, obtain for me conversion and trust in Jesus.

The shadow of her heart is visible on her folded hands on the image of Guadalupe. On Thursday, we brought to the Montessori school the large photo reproduction of the Virgin of Guadalupe that hangs in our dining room. I told the story to the students: the story of St. Juan Diego and many of the stories of Guadalupe, including some of my own. I hadn't really prepared anything, but it all came pouring out of me like water, like a torrent that I could not contain.

The Heart of Mary, where every human longing for the Mystery of God is overwhelmed by the miracle of Divine love, the miracle that transforms the universe: Jesus.

The closeness of Mary. The tenderness in the way she looks at us. She understands each of us, and knows how to shape us and foster our growth. She makes our lives into a home where Jesus dwells. The Holy Spirit lives in her. He works powerfully through her intercession. She holds us “in the crossing of her arms,” in her heart, and it is there that the Holy Spirit forms the new life of Christ in us.

I was talking to my son as we were coming back from the church: “If I could say one thing to you, it would be this: ‘Stay close to Mary. Pray to her. Talk to her.’ Stay close to her.”

Holy Spirit living in Mary, fill the hearts of my family, draw us closer to You and to one another.

Veni Sancte Spiritus, Veni Per Mariam!

"Listening" To Benedict XVI

I was doing some research on the internet (a.k.a. "goofing off"), and I came across a quotation that struck me very powerfully. It came from a place that I have come to call "my daily bread," namely, the speeches and writings of Pope Benedict XVI. I seek him out every day, to "listen" to him. I use the word listen very deliberately, because one does not simply "read" Benedict XVI; the words he speaks enter the mind and heart, engender recollection, and inspire prayer and love. He is doing so much more than imparting good information; he is teaching us how to listen, how to be silent, how to remember God and live in His presence. His preaching is a kind of school in Lectio Divina--which is a method of reading and praying the Scriptures that grows into a posture of attentiveness to God's presence in all of the reality and the circumstances of our lives.

I would encourage everyone to listen every day to the words that the Holy Spirit is speaking in the Church, through the Petrine ministry of Pope Benedict XVI. The electronic media at our disposal make it easy to do this. It is enough to visit the vatican website (http://www.vatican.va).

Benedict strikes me every day. Often a few sentences from him seem to put my life "back on the rails." This is a very apt metaphor indeed. The day has been like a runaway train, and then it is suddenly back on track, at the right speed, and headed once again for the station.

Often I find it in his sermons. It can be as simple as the reminder that God exists, and that He is good. The Pope knows well that some who listen to him are agnostics, or people who are confused and searching for the meaning of life. He also knows that people like me, who have been blessed with faith and who have studied philosophy and theology for many years, are not as far from the agnostics as we would like to think. Every day, I need to be reminded--often--that God exists, and that He is transcendent Goodness. People like me, who "think about religion" all the time, can live in forgetfulness of the real God who is present to each moment of my life.

The words I found on this day, which I posted all over the internet, were actually a simple statement that I have heard many times before and know very well. And yet I have to spend time with these words. I have to listen to them. They express a "position" in front of reality, in front of the mystery of God, and in front of the fact of what God has done and what He continues to do, in history, in my history, right this moment. They are worth remembering again and again:

"Being Christian is not the result of an ethical choice or a lofty idea, but the encounter with an event, a Person, which gives life a new horizon and a decisive direction."

Like Falling In Love

The Christian event
does not wait for man to change,
it does not require preparations
or preconditions;
it simply breaks in and happens,
like falling in love.
Thanks to its unique capacity
to correspond
to the original needs of the heart,
[Christ's] presence is able to reawaken these needs
in all their potential,
often buried
beneath a thousand layers of sediment,
and to open wide
all man’s reason,
magnetizing all his affection.
Before the presence of the answer,
the question is unleashed in all its boundless depth.


Fr. Julian Carron
President of the Fraternity of Communion and Liberation

Leap Day: God is Present

Here we have had that odd phenomenon, the "extra day" in Leap Year. It was a particularly slow day, perhaps because I am anxious for March and the hope of Spring to begin, or perhaps because I've caught Josefina's cold, and I had to drag and cough and snuffle my way through the afternoon. Or perhaps it was because the (very) small sacrifices of Lent are making me grouchy, or perhaps because nations keep hurling threats and people are afflicted by wars that go on an on, or perhaps because it rained all day. Or perhaps I'm bothered by the idea that the new Google privacy policy is going to allow them to upload on GoogleEarth pictures of the missing tiles in my bathroom. Or maybe I'm just tired.

In the mid-afternoon, for the Hour of Mercy, I paused for a moment to meditate on the Cross, and why it matters. I posted some of the thoughts that came to me, in those moments, and decided they were worth repeating here. I found them very sustaining, and I expect that I will need to remember them. Others may find them useful too:

In the difficulty and awkwardness and apparent impossibility of mundane life, there God is present. And this is not some abstract mysticism. This is something that is really true, in every moment, because God became a Crucified Man and penetrated the depths of every sin, every moment of misery, and even the dull tedium of every day. Everything belongs to His merciful heart, everything is changed, and filled with the hidden possibilities of love, because everything can be offered.

Jesus, Win My Heart

Why is love hard? I talk about it all the time and I make it sound easy because I wish it were easy.

And, really, it is easy. But it's hard. That makes sense, huh?

Inside of the growth of love, it feels hard. But after we have grown, we look back and say, "that was not hard. That was easy. That was beautiful." Often in our relationship with God, it’s a real struggle, a real suffering, because He is healing us and transforming us, breaking us open and emptying the spaces that only His love can fill. It seems like we are utterly beyond ourselves, and barely hanging on to God. Still, our hold on Him is secure: this is what faith and hope enable us to do. Faith and hope (and charity) are "theological" virtues, which means that they empower us to be in a relationship with the Infinite God who loves us. He has a firm hold on us; He puts His life in us, and enables us to adhere to Him.

And it is not "so hard" to be loved by Him, because He knows our weakness, and He is so patient and so merciful and so tender, and He is so delicate with us.

That is why we must listen for His whisper.

He wants to draw our hearts with His love, and He does. He draws us and He wins our hearts, if we let Him. Let us pray, "Jesus, win my heart!"

The Topography of My Face

Sometimes Josefina climbs on me and studies my face really, really close. She spends a minute scrutinizing all over my face, from the ears to the cheeks to the nose to mouth and the chin and the beard. She carries out her observations with a very serious little expression, and with clinical keenness. When she is finished, she will either make some declaration or ask a question.

So she might say after much pondering, "What's that?"--pointing, of course, to the pimple that happens to be on my face at the time. "It's a pimple; I've got a pimple," I grunt (why can't she say something like, "Daddy, you're so handsome!"?). And then comes the great question of the five year old, the question that indicates that the genius of philosophy has been born somewhere deep in her soul: "WHY?" Why? Why indeed? Dear Lord, I am approaching fifty years old. Most of the hair that I do have has changed its color to autumn silver. I long ago abandoned my dream of becoming a great baseball star. So, what's with the pimple? Why???

"People get pimples sometimes, honey; your body just makes these pimples." A look of alarm comes over her face, "Do I have any pimples?!" "No it happens when you get bigger." "Why?" "Hey, how about if I read you a book!"

One time she was studying me, and then suddenly she scrinched her face. She'd made a discovery.

Josefina: "You have hair in your nose!!"

Me: "Yes, grown-ups have hair in their nose. Grown-ups get hair in different places."

Her: "DO I HAVE HAIR IN MY NOSE???"

Me: "Not really. Nothing you can really see."

Her: "But you have hair in your nose!!!"

Me: "I'm a grown-up."

Her: "I don't want to be a grown-up. I'm not going to be a grown-up."

Tenderness

My desire is to have a passionate attention to reality, but to be free of that reductive, manipulative attachment that tries to imprison things within themselves. I want to follow the true dynamic of reality, which is to point beyond itself precisely from within the depths of its own truth, goodness, and beauty. I do not want to be trapped within the limits of my own perspectives and my own projects. I want to live as I have been made to live, to open my soul to the ecstasy of being. But I must abandon myself....

Jesus, how do I let go? How can I really let You take control? When things are dear, its hard to let go, its hard to have faith that this reality won't be lost, but rather that it will be fulfilled in You. Its hard because I can't see how--I don't see the connection. Its seems dark, this place between losing and finding. Help me Jesus.

That is where He is, precisely in that place. His suffering bridges that darkness. I don't understand how. And dwelling on the fact of His presence can bring courage, sometimes, but I must admit that usually even faith in Jesus Crucified feels like groping in the darkness when it is immersed in the struggles of life.

Still, He is here. He is with me.

And there is His tenderness. Mary. The Woman, the Mother, who shapes everything with gentleness. She brings that tenderness into every place.

Life With Josefina

Imagine seeing this face, all day, every day.

Okay, now those of you who have just melted, please mop yourselves up and think for a moment. She is a free spirited five year old girl....

...who can be very stubborn,

...who cries whenever she doesn't get her way,

...who wants to eat, and then doesn't want to eat, after you've made the sandwich,

...who has made whining into an art form,

...who treats the furniture like a jungle gym (really, literally),

...who, when you tell her NO, just repeats the question again as if you haven't said anything,

...who is perfectly capable of using the potty, but who still sometimes just...forgets,

...who cannot explain in a rational conversation why she is upset with her sister,

...whose favorite answers are I don't know and Beeecaaauuse, waahaahaahaahaa!


Okay, that's enough; this is starting to sound like a Bill Cosby routine. Also, there are plenty of you who are saying, "Hey, that's my kid you're talking about!" Haha.

Truly, it's a special thing for me, to see her so much of the time during the day. When the other kids were this age, I was at the college all day, and my mind was full of the aspirations and successes, the struggles and the politics of teaching and administration at a thriving institution of higher education. Not that there was any problem with that. But now, things are different.

Josefina's Daddy is home much more of the time. I also look after her a lot more directly than I did any of the others. Now, I even go to her school with her, and I bring her home. And when I sit at home and work, she hops on the side of my big brown chair and makes herself comfy.

One day, she set up her own "computer," right next to mine, with a "Magic Math" keyboard, a book for a screen, and one of her little black shoes for a mouse. That kept her off my keyboard...for a little while.

Sometimes I'll put her on my lap, and we'll watch a few cartoons or go to the facebook page of one of her friends (i.e. their parents' page) to look at their pictures. I've taught her a few things about how to use the keyboard. She knows how to make a smiley face: :-)

Then there are times when I want her attention and she plays girley games. Sometimes she just decides she's going to ignore me (I can hardly blame her--I'm always teasing). And of course she plays "hard to get." They all do. If you young men out there think that marriage means you'll never again experience heartbreak and rejection, ha ha...all I have to say is, "Don't have four daughters!" I'm kidding of course. They keep your heart young.

She jumps up on her little perch on my chair and says, "Hi Daddy." I know that something is coming. "Daddy, will you read me a book?" Time to read some books to Josefina. :-)