by Catherine | Aug 1, 2016 | Uncategorized
I’m a flurry of movement, fumbling to get my things in and out of my locker so that I can pick the kids up from the nursery in time. These ladies are in no rush. They look each other in the eyes. They sit for a few minutes just to chat–swapping recipes, lamenting the loss of a(nother) friend, excitedly informing the group about a new housecleaning product, updating each other on what the kids, grandkids, and great grandkids are up to. When they don’t have something to tell, they’re comfortable in the silence.
The water aerobics ladies are usually gathering their things to head out for the day when I come back to the locker room to shower. The lockers are arranged in horseshoes with benches, and my locker happens to be in the same horseshoe as one particular circle of friends. Their average age is probably 80. Most wear orthopedic shoes with white ankle socks. Their floral button-ups and pastel capris are neatly pressed. They move slowly, deliberately, without any self-consciousness.
I’m struck by how they migrate from place to place. Some have walkers. One has a cane. Some limp. Another can barely lift her feet and has to shuffle. One has a back that sticks sideways nearly ninety degrees from her hip. She smiles the most.
When they collectively decide it’s time to go, everyone plays a part. The ladies take turns requesting and offering help. Lifting, zipping, holding, carrying, fetching. They ask for help so plainly, so confidently, so lackadaisically. It’s as if they don’t realize the treasure they have in each other. I suppose it’s because they’ve all needed help, given help, and readily accepted help at different times. They don’t see anything unusual or extraordinary about it. These locker room exchanges are a microcosm of the support they’ve been for each other in their lives beyond the locker room walls.
A pair was leaving the locker room last week when the words escaped my mouth. “What good friends you have! You ladies are so lucky to have each other.”
They were caught off guard for a moment. They smiled and looked at each other. One hobbled ahead while the other looked at me. She said, “You know, you’re right. We really are.”
I hope I’m blessed enough to become an old locker room lady. Certainly, old age comes with its own crosses. What stage of life doesn’t have a cross? But what a treasure it would be to just be with my friends, family, and everyone I encounter. In this chapter of doing, doing, doing, I know I forget to just be. I suppose that’s how we start and end life, huh? We bring joy just by being as babies. Then, we get so determined to be independent and self-sufficient that we can forget about why we’re doing any of this in the first place. It takes us a lifetime to remember to be, to receive, to allow another’s presence to be all that we need.
Lord, make me a better friend. Help me to allow myself to just be. Help me remember that it is a gift to be able to ask for help, to receive, to allow others to give. There’s no reason I have to wait until I become an old locker room lady.
“A faithful friend is a sturdy shelter:
he that has found one has found a treasure.
There is nothing so precious as a faithful friend,
and no scales can measure his excellence.
A faithful friend is an elixir of life;
and those who fear the Lord will find him.”
Sirach 6:14-16
!["I am a writer."]()
by Catherine | Jul 27, 2016 | Uncategorized
I’ve always loved writing. I suppose a lot of that is because I come from a long line of storytellers. It’s a fun quirk from our family that I never fully appreciated until I got married. I thought every family sat around, reminiscing and laughing about, “that time when…” I don’t know that our stories are all that unique compared to the rest of America, but we sure love telling them. Over. And over. And over again.
As far back as I can remember, I was a storyteller. When I was first learning to put sentences together, I inherited Grandma Connie’s electric typewriter. I. LOVED. THAT. THING. It was yellow and made a loud whhhhhhhiiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrr when I plugged it in. I loved the smell the rubber-tipped metal letters had. I would sit for hours on end at my bedroom desk, typing away.
I lived across the street from a pool for most of my childhood. (Okay, fine, it was a country club. Judge away!) Instead of swimming, I’d sit poolside with my Five-Star notebook and Pilot fine point pens, frantically scribbling my stories about tween unrequited love. I even submitted a few of my manuscripts to the tween magazines I had subscriptions to.
Anyway, I’ve been thinking about all of this ever since I read Gretchen Rubin ask in The Happiness Project, “What did you do for fun when you were 10 years old?” She made the case that chances are whatever you did for fun as a 10-year-old would be something that you would enjoy today as an adult. For me, that would be writing. These days, my writing usually revolves around faith, parenting, marriage, cultural observations, books, and finding happiness in ordinary living.
Now that we’re out of survival mode with our new beautiful baby girl, I’m getting an itch to get back to writing. As a mama of 4 littles, I tend to write in spurts. I’ll find a rhythm for a few weeks or months, and then I’ll hang the blog back on the shelf until life gets a little less crazy. I started blogging in November 2011, but it’s never been a daily habit. I think I’ve always thought it was a bit selfish or indulgent for a young mom. After 6.5 years at this parenting stuff, I’m learning that taking the time for me isn’t selfish; it’s a necessity.
This time, I want to do things differently. This time, I’m challenging myself to sit down and write for at least 10 minutes a day every single day. Those ten minutes might not be enough to create a coherent blog post, but it will mean that I’m practicing my craft daily. Just as I’ve been allowing myself to accept my new identity as a runner for my self-prescribed #yearofme, I’m starting to accept what my identity has always been: I am a writer.
My goal is to publish 3 blog posts a week by writing at least 10 minutes everyday. I don’t know what my future as a writer entails. For now, in this crazy chapter of life with 4 littles, it’s enough for me to embrace that I am, in fact, a writer. At long last, I am going to allow myself to be a writer for at least 10 minutes every single day.
Questions for you:
What did you like to do when you were ten years old? What would that look like today? Are you allowing yourself to do that thing on a regular basis? Why or why not?
![“I am a writer.”]()
by Catherine | Jul 27, 2016 | Uncategorized
I’ve always loved writing. I suppose a lot of that is because I come from a long line of storytellers. It’s a fun quirk from our family that I never fully appreciated until I got married. I thought every family sat around, reminiscing and laughing about, “that time when…” I don’t know that our stories are all that unique compared to the rest of America, but we sure love telling them. Over. And over. And over again.
As far back as I can remember, I was a storyteller. When I was first learning to put sentences together, I inherited Grandma Connie’s electric typewriter. I. LOVED. THAT. THING. It was yellow and made a loud whhhhhhhiiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrr when I plugged it in. I loved the smell the rubber-tipped metal letters had. I would sit for hours on end at my bedroom desk, typing away.
I lived across the street from a pool for most of my childhood. (Okay, fine, it was a country club. Judge away!) Instead of swimming, I’d sit poolside with my Five-Star notebook and Pilot fine point pens, frantically scribbling my stories about tween unrequited love. I even submitted a few of my manuscripts to the tween magazines I had subscriptions to.
Anyway, I’ve been thinking about all of this ever since I read Gretchen Rubin ask in The Happiness Project, “What did you do for fun when you were 10 years old?” She made the case that chances are whatever you did for fun as a 10-year-old would be something that you would enjoy today as an adult. For me, that would be writing. These days, my writing usually revolves around faith, parenting, marriage, cultural observations, books, and finding happiness in ordinary living.
Now that we’re out of survival mode with our new beautiful baby girl, I’m getting an itch to get back to writing. As a mama of 4 littles, I tend to write in spurts. I’ll find a rhythm for a few weeks or months, and then I’ll hang the blog back on the shelf until life gets a little less crazy. I started blogging in November 2011, but it’s never been a daily habit. I think I’ve always thought it was a bit selfish or indulgent for a young mom. After 6.5 years at this parenting stuff, I’m learning that taking the time for me isn’t selfish; it’s a necessity.
This time, I want to do things differently. This time, I’m challenging myself to sit down and write for at least 10 minutes a day every single day. Those ten minutes might not be enough to create a coherent blog post, but it will mean that I’m practicing my craft daily. Just as I’ve been allowing myself to accept my new identity as a runner for my self-prescribed #yearofme, I’m starting to accept what my identity has always been: I am a writer.
My goal is to publish 3 blog posts a week by writing at least 10 minutes everyday. I don’t know what my future as a writer entails. For now, in this crazy chapter of life with 4 littles, it’s enough for me to embrace that I am, in fact, a writer. At long last, I am going to allow myself to be a writer for at least 10 minutes every single day.
Questions for you:
What did you like to do when you were ten years old? What would that look like today? Are you allowing yourself to do that thing on a regular basis? Why or why not?
![Edel15: Getting There]()
by Catherine | Jul 14, 2015 | Uncategorized
This past weekend, I was fortunate enough to get to attend the 2015 Edel Gathering. (If you’d like to see more about the event on social media, look for the hashtag #edel15.)
My journey began Friday morning with my 3:15 a.m. alarm to get me up and out the door in time to make it on my 7 a.m. flight out of Omaha. I drove to Omaha in the dark, enjoying the solitude and listening to a podcast of The Doctor is In. I made it to the airport with time to spare and boarded the flight to Atlanta just as the sun was coming up.
I took this picture from the air to prove to you fine non-Nebraskans that we have more than cornfields to offer! Look! Omaha is a real metropolis!
Once I landed in Atlanta, I made my way over to the flight schedule to make sure my connecting flight to Charleston was on time. It was, so I headed over to get a bite to eat and relax for a few minutes before heading to my gate.
Well, you see, it’s dangerous for this lady to travel alone. The idea of eating by myself (even in a crowded international airport) was so soothing that I lost all track of time. I glanced at my clock and realized I had somehow gotten my times wrong with the time change to realize that my flight was boarding. I ran toward the gate as quickly as I could. As I arrived at the gate, the scene played out in slow motion. I saw the plane still sitting next to the gate, but they were pulling away the walkway, closing the door to the ramp, and the screen at the gate read:
Panting, I said, “Is it gone? Is there any way I can board?”
The curt airline employee snapped. “Are you Catherine Bow-chur? Where have you been?! I’ve been paging you!”
“Yes, it’s me, I’m sorry. I ran here as quickly as I could. Is there any way I can get on that flight?”
“No. But you can go down past that gate to check and see if the airline can board you on a later flight.”
Still panting, I walked away from the gate toward the airline counter. At that moment, I realized in my exertion to make my flight, I had most definitely peed my pants. (Note to self: Time to resume my pelvic floor physical therapy exercises.) Guh-ross. Fortunately, I was wearing dark denim capris and could wrap my jacket around my waist to cover up the embarrassment. Lovely! Also, I was carrying on, so I had my clothes with me. Phew.
Before getting to change, I had to visit the airline counter to see if I could get on a later flight. Miracle of miracles, they had a flight departing an hour later and could squeeze me on. Yay! I got a ticket for that flight and quickly made my way to the restroom to, uh, freshen up. Let me tell ya, there’s nothing like being able to change into new clothes after peeing your pants after missing your flight. I was a new woman, ready for whatever came my way.
I reported straight to the gate, got my new seat assignment, and stayed put until boarding. I wasn’t going to risk missing a second flight. This mama distracted by freedom learned her lesson!
As I made my way onto the plane, I had my first of several Catholic starstruck moments when I saw Kathryn Whitaker, one of my favorite bloggers at Team Whitaker, sitting on my flight. At this point in my journey, I was a complete bumbling fool who had forgotten all of my social niceties. “Kathryn Whitaker?!” I exclaimed more than asked, like a junior high girl at a boy band concert. She met my (likely) crazed eyes. “Hi! Catherine Boucher. I’ve been a long-time reader of your blog.” Being the gracious southerner that she is, she sweetly extended her hand to shake mine as I fumbled with my luggage. There were a million questions I wanted to ask her in that moment. Instead, we made a quick connection to our mutual friend, Lisa Schmidt, and I blurted out, “How’s your knee?” Creepy stalker that I am, I knew that she had broken her knee cap the previous week but was still soldiering her way across the country to Edel. She ever-so-sweetly answered that it was okay, the line of boarding passengers moved forward, and I said that I would see her at Edel. We didn’t get to speak again at the conference, but I admired her ability to keep her signature smile on all weekend despite the pain she had to be in. Way to go, soldier!
“Very cool,” I thought. “If I had made my first flight, I probably wouldn’t have gotten to meet Kathryn Whitaker.” I made my way to my seat, sat down, closed my eyes, and waited for our flight to get going to so that I could get to Edel. Ten minutes later, the captain came over the speakers. As it turned out, the plane was originally scheduled to go to Belize. It had 9,000 more pounds of fuel in the tank than it needed for our hour-long flight to Charleston. As the flight captain explained, having too much fuel doesn’t sound like much of a problem until it comes to landing. If a plane lands with too much fuel, the weight throws off the plane and can cause a crash.
Thirty minutes later, the captain came back on. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’ve been flying for 24 years, and I have never seen anything like this.” This is never what you want to hear. “We are waiting for a tanker to come out. You see, we can’t put the fuel directly back into the ground. Instead, we need a tanker to remove the fuel from the plane. We’re doing everything we can to find someone to help us out.”
Sixty minutes later, a flight attendant comes over the speakers. “The captain is out there doing everything he can to get us going as soon as possible. The tanker is on its way to remove the fuel.”
The passengers were starting to get hot and irritable. The flight attendants passed out pretzels and mini bottles of water. I overheard an older gentleman behind me say, “You know, I miss the good ol’ days. In the good ol’ days, when this sort of thing happened, they’d give you a drink. Now, we just get this water. I miss the good ol’ days.”
Twenty minutes later, the tanker arrived.
Another twenty minutes later, the captain come on. “The tanker has removed 6,000 pounds of fuel and has 3,000 pounds to go. We should be on our way shortly.”
Finally, we heard these beautiful words: “Flight crew, please prepare the cabin for takeoff.” Hallelujah!
During the fuel fiasco, I introduced myself to my two seat mates. They were newlyweds from Illinois. Throughout the course of the flight, the bride and I kept chatting while her hubby snoozed and listened to music on his headphones. When she learned that I was attending a conference for a bunch of Catholic women, her eyes brightened. “I’m Catholic!” She shared how important her faith is to her, that she hopes to have a large family, and that she is praying for her husband to convert. “I want it for him, but I know that he has to want it.” By the end of the flight, we had talked about how she could get her marriage convalidated (blessed by the Church) and how easy it would be to get right back into living life as a Catholic. We parted ways, saying that we would be keeping each other in prayer. It was yet another moment on the way to Edel when I thought, “I guess I was supposed to be here instead of where I had planned to be.”
We landed in Charleston, and I made my way out to the street level. I had resigned myself to taking a taxi solo to the airport since I had long missed my original meet-up time with my roomie. Miracle of miracles, I spotted Lisa Schmidt, friend and blogger at The Practicing Catholic, with her sister and friends. As it turned out, they were walking out to meet their Uber ride and graciously offered me a spot in the car. On the way to the Francis Marion (the hotel where Edel was taking place), I had a wonderful conversation with the ladies in the car. I had just met some of the ladies, but we were able to bypass the usual small talk, and we cut to the heart. Yet again, it was one of those moments when I thought, “This is exactly where I am supposed to be. Thank You for not letting my plans come to fruition.” The car ride was just a small glance into what the rest of the Edel weekend would be like. “These are my people,“ I thought. “I am not alone as a Catholic wife and mother. They get me.”
* * *
I’ll pick up next time with the rest of my Edel weekend. It was well worth the wild journey to get there!
![Put It To Work 22]()
by Catherine | Apr 6, 2015 | Uncategorized
Happy Easter!
Another Monday means another opportunity to swap prayer intentions and start “putting them to work” for one another!
Here are my prayer intentions for this week:
- For those who just entered the Church at Easter
- For families experiencing the pain and separation of a loved one who has left the faith
- For a special intention
Your turn! What prayer intentions can I “put to work” for you this week? As always, I will add them to my prayer journal and pray for you by name throughout the week. Please share your intentions in the comment box below, on the blog Facebook page, or send them to me via the blog contact form. Thank you in advance for your prayers.
Have a great week!
![Dinner Club for Underachievers – Inaugural Dinner Recap]()
by Catherine | Jan 27, 2015 | Uncategorized
If you don’t know what Dinner Club for Underachievers is all about, go back to this post where I introduce the concept.
The gist is this:
- As hosts, we provide the drinks, plates/napkins/utensils, and a few appetizers
- Everyone else is assigned an appetizer, side, entrée, or dessert
- Our kids are home with a sitter, but everyone else’s kids stay home to keep an adults only atmosphere (We fed our kids before the guests arrived, and they were happy to watch a movie on our bed with the sitter until bedtime. The sitter left after they went to sleep.)
- We have a dinner every other month
Philip and I hosted our inaugural Dinner Club for Underachievers dinner a few weeks ago, and it went smashingly!
The Logistics
Since we had 24 couples joining us (holy high RSVP rate!), I thought I would help smooth over everyone’s entrance by putting in some extra work for the first dinner.
First, I put this sign on the entry table:
Here’s the entry table in all its glory after the party:
I knew I’d probably be busy playing hostess and wouldn’t be able to greet everyone at the door (Note to self: Put a sign on the door next time that says, “Come on in!” for the next dinner), so I thought this would help direct traffic.
With so many guests, I thought it would be a nice hostess gesture to put out name tags. Everyone dutifully amused me. Guests were able to find their way around with the help of some signs I whipped up. For example, we hung this sign up above the doorway to the basement office.
I know, I know, you’re probably thinking, “You’re calling it an ‘Underachievers’ group, so what’s with the signs?” I knew I’d only have to make the signs once and re-use them for our future dinners, and they definitely helped everyone to find their way around.
After making their name tags and dropping off coats and purses, guests made their way to the kitchen where I had laid out laminated, tented signs in different spots on the counter that said:
- Appetizers
- Entrées
- Sides
- Desserts
That way, guests knew exactly where to put their contributions. Again, we were feeding 24 couples, so it helped everyone to know where to put things. I had put out all of my serving utensils on the kitchen counter for people to add to their dishes as needed.
I printed off all of the signs, laminated them, and kept them generic enough that we’ll be able to use them for future dinners. (They’re stowed away in my binder for next time.)
The Food
The theme was Mexican, and everyone definitely brought their “A”-game (even though I specifically said it was an UNDERachievers Dinner Club!).
If I were a real blogger (ha!), I would have snapped pictures of the all of the fare before we dug in. We had just the right amount of food. Having a spreadsheet with everyone’s RSVP status and food contribution helped. Even with a few last minute cancellations due to kids getting sick or life happening, we were in great shape.
Entrées
Sides
Desserts
Desserts Continued! Check out those adorable tres leches in their individual ramekins. I teased the girl who brought them that she’s fired from Dinner Club for UNDERachievers!
Drink
We don’t have a wet bar in our house. Instead of using our kitchen counter space, we thought we’d convert our pantry/laundry room into our cocktail and coffee bar! It actually worked really well. I probably should have taken pictures before guests arrived and the bar looked so empty and sad, but I was having too much fun!
Our pantry “bar.” Folding table for the cocktails and pop, area underneath for beer in coolers, recycling bin in back for bottles. Our washer and dryer served as a makeshift coffee bar.
Summer beer, sangria (extra fruit to spoon in), pop, water, ice
The beer – taken ten minutes before the last guests arrived
Coffee bar on top of the washer and dryer. Keurig, coffee pods in basket, creamers & horchata on ice, Kaluha ready for mixing nearby
Seating
We used the main floor and basement for our seating. We ended up borrowing a few card tables and folding chairs to get enough seats for everyone, and we ended up having room to spare. The only stressful part of the evening was when everyone had congregated in the kitchen at the beginning before we started eating. Philip kicked off the evening by getting on the step stool to get everyone’s attention. (He channeled his former summer camp cabin counselor.) He welcomed everyone, gave some instructions on where things were, led us in grace, and told everyone to dig in.)
I got a really crummy quality picture of people starting to eat the food. The appetizer table ended up becoming a bunch of sides since everyone was chatting so much that they forgot about them!
It’s tough to play hostess in a crowded kitchen at just 5’3″!
Basement seating: 2 banquet tables, 2 card tables, and furniture
Dining room and front living room with card table
The family room became the place for games. We had some seating in here for dinner, too.
The People
Few things make me happier than a house full of great people enjoying some great food and enjoying one another’s company
Philip and I even managed to get our picture taken
We had a great, great time! Aside from the initially congested kitchen, the whole evening was remarkably smooth for how large the party was. I learned a few ways to make things go even more smoothly next time, but I would say our inaugural Dinner Club for Underachievers dinner went great! Looking forward to the next one in March.
¡Olé!
