My 88-year-old nana (the woman behind this wisdom)
An uncle admires my little marsupial who is fast asleep in her pouch.
Aunt Rachel and Mary Elizabeth in their new caps, made with love by Nana (my husband’s mom, not my 88-year-old grandma)
Gaba (my mom) with my brothers. Please keep praying for the prodigal son (pictured at left). He had his discernment retreat last week and is now 98 percent sure he is being called to the priesthood. As for my baby brother (at right), he has another vocation in mind and would really love to meet his future wife sooner rather than later, so if you have prayers to spare, say one for him, too.
I’m thoroughly boring you to death with picture thoughts because I haven’t had the time to string together words. I’ve got three sick kids on my hands. The hacking is violent, the cheeks flushed, the snot superfluous. And yet, they smile. And giggle. And keep the joy of Christmas alive in our home.
Epiphany celebrates the manifestation of Christ to the Magi. My children are the manifestation of joy that doesn’t need clear sinuses or a pile of presents to come forth. They gift me with their unflagging optimism every day.