Tellnard Mountain

A Special Day on Tellnard Mountain

2008-04-08T09:37:00.000-07:00

Our sweet Hannah FINALLY made her First Communion this past Sunday! I say finally because she has been longing for this day since she was 3 years old. Every now and then we would have to take out the paper and pencil and do the math right down to the week so that she could figure out how much longer she would have to wait to receive "her" Jesus. It was a beautiful day.

Hannah chose her dress and it was so "her". For a little girl who does not like being referred to as pretty, beautiful, etc. and NEVER wants to wear a dress, it was such a treat to see her feeling like a princess. She was downright bubbly when she stepped into the dress that morning.

And here's the whole "gang"! This is the only picture of all 7 of us together and I love that it is in church because that is where I feel closest to our Gabriel who is already with Jesus. Seems like it was only yesterday when Hannah was baptised in this same sanctuary...

Ok... I gotta give credit where it's due... Daddy took this gorgeous shot of Hannah's joy. And he took the first picture of her praying. AND... he took the following picture, which is his very favorite. You don't have to guess why! His two baby princesses in one gorgeous shot.... I may have to give up my day job and hand the camera over to him. He's got a good eye... His pictures remind me of his music... there is a "prayer" element in everything he does that allows him to capture something extra special.

"God Bless you, Sweet Hannah"

We Love You

XOXOXO

Alleluia!!!

2008-03-23T17:23:00.000-07:00

Love... Mike, Linda & Kids

Good Friday

2008-03-21T08:02:00.001-07:00

I remember as a child thinking... are these folks nuts? Good Friday? Hey... I don't know much, but I've seen the movies. There are a lot of adjectives to use for this day, but GOOD?

As a child, my focus was all on the corporal, the material.... THIS world... Death. I remember thinking that I didn't even know why this all happened, but the one thing I was sure of was that it wasn't good that people hurt and killed Jesus.

As an adult, I can see things from a different perspective. I understand that it's not about what we did to Jesus, but about what HE did for us. As an adult, I can understand more fully that while Easter Sunday... The Resurrection, is the fullfillment of all of Jesus' promises, and the "punctuation mark" on the Great mystery of salvation, it is the Crucifixion which saves us. The gates of heaven were opened to us through Christ's suffering and death.

That is what makes it Good.

It was a Good Friday 23 years ago that began our conversion journey back to living the fullness of our faith. We were living in the Philippines. We woke up that morning feeling like we were in a twilight zone. Silence. Where were the people? The jeepnies? The animals? The market wagons? Every shop was closed. Even the bars were closed!

Now, you need to understand... this was a city built outside the gate of a Naval Base. This was a place where the purpose was to make money from the sailors who were seeking entertainment and recreation. Every building on the main strip had a bar of some kind. The country and western bar, the disco bar, the karoke bar, the rock-n-roll bar, the polynesian bar... it was endless. There were also shops, restaurants, money exchange booths, beggars, thieves, and prostitutes in every direction.

This was an impoverished people on the constant verge of martial law. A desperate people trying to survive. Most were hard working family people doing whatever job they could to send money back to their families who lived in more rural areas.

We were amazed when on Christmas day, the only difference in the hustle and bustle was that there was garland hanging in the bars. It felt like any other day.

But Good Friday... Everything stopped. Everything.

Mike and I just sat on our patio reflecting how different this was from back home in America. In America, the focus is always on the celebration. It took a deployment half way around the world for us to learn a deep reverence for Christ's sacrifice. That was the first time in our lives we stopped to truly meditate on what Jesus had done for us... and why. We became deeply aware of our own sins and the need to change our lives.

Of course, upon returning home, we discovered that there were many who already knew what we had learned and that it was our own lack of practicing our faith that had kept us from "seeing". But we also became deeply aware that our culture does not embrace sacrifice, does not understand self-giving love, and that it would indeed be a challenge to live "in" this world, but not be "of" it.

That Good Friday was the beginning of a journey with many twists and turns. The first of many conversion moments.

But we will always be thankful that God sent us away to bring us home...

Blessings... *Linda*

2008-03-15T15:57:00.000-07:00

Recently... well, ok... it was during Christmas vacation! But I just figured out how to download pics from our new camera... LOL! Mike decided to have a fun game night with the kids playing a Pirates Dice game. I was working at the computer while they played, but as you can see, I spent more time watching than working. It was certainly an evening worth capturing...

Hugs... *Linda*

The Prayer of The Children

2008-03-11T06:42:00.000-07:00

There are moments... I'm sure every mom reading this knows them all too well. Those moments when our children whom we have just fed, dressed, cuddled with, read to, and allowed to watch their favorite morning program, and play a learning game online.... are bored. Those moments when our child who has just had a birthday party one month after opening way too many Christmas presents wants that latest plastic something-or-other and his response to you saying "we cannot have everything we want" is replied to with "THAT'S NOT FAIR". Those moments when a train could burst through the kitchen wall, but you wouldn't hear it over the bickering in the other room...

Ya... despite our efforts at pouring every ounce of love and living out a Christian life, our children still think the world revolves around them sometimes. No matter what logic or ethic we attempt to share to balance the moment, they just can't see beyond the immediate experience at times.

Those are the times when I break out my "children of the world" talk. We sit, and I tell them about little children, their ages who are suffering in this world. How their childhood has been stolen from them by war, hatred, abuse, poverty. I try to remind them how blessed they are, and how there are times when things may not always be fair, and it's in those times that we most need to practice what we believe and "step up to the plate" even more for all those in the world who have to live with what is unfair and unjust every day.

Sometimes after one of our talks, I just break down. I think of how any one of my children "could" have been sent to parents in a war torn country, in an abusive home, etc. And how any one of those suffering children "could" have been mine. My heart aches. I want to take them all into my arms and kiss their heads and keep them safe. And... there are twinges of "guilt", I think... that we go on with our lives day in and day out while they suffer...

But, the Lord, who is AWESOME reminds me gently that I cannot save the world, or it's children. Not all of them... I can do what I can by being as aware and as involved as possible. I surely can pray. But most importantly, I can keep caring with all of my heart for the children that He did send me. The best thing I can do for ALL the children is to raise my children to care.

My oldest daughter called me to her side at the computer this morning to share this U-Tube video. Pictures truly say a thousand words, but these words too are beautiful...

Some may think "what the heck does this have to do with Tellnard Mountain?" Everything. The faith, hope, and love we strive each day to fill our children with, is not to store in a treasure house here, but to send out into that big world, where the only difference between "us" and "them" is that divine providence "planted" us where we are. The only reason the "divide" will continue to exist is if we refuse to grow.

Hope you mommies have your tissues ready...

Please scroll down the side of our blog and pause the music playing here so that you can hear the words of this compelling video.

In case, the above widget doesn't operate, you can click here:
The Prayer of The Children

Peace & Love, *Linda*

2008-03-07T14:40:00.000-08:00

Goodness, gracious... It sure has been a while since I've posted here. Shame on me. Linda*Pinda*Designs is where I do the bulk of my online business, so that blog gets a little more wear and tear, but... well... there's nothing like coming home, now is there?

Lent is a really busy time around here. Mike is super busy at work, as he is each year preparing all the music and leading all the rehearsals leading up to Holy Week and Easter. And this year is super crazy 'cause he's at a new church AND he's still helping our daughter Sarah with the rehearsals of the choir at our home parish where he worked 'til Christmas. To boot, our little Hannah is making her First Communion in a few weeks, so there are lots of extra retreats and meetings, etc. Did I mention that her birthday is also on Good Friday, and the kids' school is having a fundraising event for the American Heart Association, and our older daughter Sarah is part of a very special concert at her college this week?

And of course, the dog is overdue for her vet appointment, there is a squirrel making daily visits in my antique tin ceiling... (yes... we know... "he'll get to it"), almost the entire family is camping out in our living room while we attempt to make some changes to the bedrooms upstairs, my dad is away on vacation, I'm trying to build an online business, and Mike is attempting to record another CD (Yes... Sarah will be on this one... LOL!).

Other than that, not much is going on here.

hee hee

So, why am I visiting today? Well... between funerals, Stations of the Cross tonight, and planning all day, Mike's been away... so... I got some housework done and then decided to look for some special blogs on faith and family.

I have been through the gamit of emotions. Excitement, frustration, compassion, humor, joy, and sorrow. There are so many stories... so many journeys. I'm just feeling thankful to be a part of it all. I know there is a lot... A LOT of "junk" on the internet. But I am amazed at how the Lord uses even this for the good. I would never have met some really wonderful inspiring people if it were not for the internet and for the Lord's intervention in crossing paths that need crossin'.

Seems there are a lot of us in this great big world who have placed our lives in the great big palm of His hand.

You know... these are uncertain times, aren't they? Over at Ebay, all the groups are chatting about betrayal, injustice, and no prosperity. Some folks are checking out Etsy, some are joining group websites, some are opening their own sites. Then there's the evening news. Have you heard? We are not in a recession, but you may have to sell your firstborn into indentured service to pay your winter heating bill. And you won't be able to visit him because you can't afford the nearly $4.oo gallon for gas to make the trip. And you'd be too weak to travel anyway because no one can afford to buy enough groceries to sustain a family for a whole week. But the good news is that the choices for president are all pro-choice, so in no time there won't be enough Americans left to have to worry about an economy anyway. Did I just say that? yep... guess I did.

I guess this all paints a pretty dark picture, huh? But you know what? For those of us who've been walking on water all along... this doesn't seem like much of a challenge! My eyes are on the Lord and I'm just marching straight ahead.

We were blessed this past weekend to have a visiting priest at our parish who was giving a wonderful mission on "the journey". We weren't able to go every night, but a few things he shared in his homily on Sunday really stuck with me. He mentioned the fact that many... MANY times in the Bible, God called people to action in their faith life, but didn't give them a clear picture of the plan. He told Abraham to "Go". He told Noah to "Build". He told Moses to "lead".

One went, one built, and one led. Not one of them knew the next step of their journey. Not one of them knew the where, when or how. But they all had faith.

In this world of GPS systems and instant information, we are hesitant to begin any journey without knowing every last detail and having backup plans for all of the possible glitches.

But God calls us still. As He called Abraham, Noah, Moses, and so many others. We don't know what tomorrow will bring. We don't know the whole picture. But if we are very quiet, we can hear His voice and we can feel His "nudgings".

I remember a couple of years ago when I was at my emotional wit's end with doing in home daycare. I felt God urging me to just stop. I kept praying and praying... and PRAYING to know His will so that I could stop and know that everything would be ok. I could feel the Lord telling me that I needed to follow Him in faith. For some reason I just knew that it was the act of faith that the Lord wanted from me and that He would supply as each need arose. I remember telling my husband that I felt as though God wanted me to "step off of a cliff" and to trust that He would be there.

Silly me... Once again I was too stiffnecked to see that God didn't want me to fall and be caught... He wanted me to let go of what was weighing me down, and SOAR.

And you know... we are not rich, but we are still living miracle to miracle and I am building a whole new career that I am enjoying so much more than any work I have ever done before. I'm able to stay home with the children, use my creativity, and even work in my pjs sometimes, which is a real plus for those of us who are not exactly "morning people"!

I suppose this may all be a stumbling block for those who already are struggling to embrace their faith. You mean God wants us to "go", "do", but not know what comes next? Sometimes. It's what keeps us "needing" Him, seeking Him, living in His presence. And it's actually quite freeing.

I'm not the least bit worried about Ebay, Sales reports, recession, or even who becomes elected president. Don't mistake that for not caring. I care. And I am involved in the process. But I am not worried.

An awful lot of people are trying to dig us out of our misery by looking everywhere but UP. They are trying to find their way out of the darkness with everything buy LIGHT. They are fighting evil with anger instead of LOVE.

There will always be wars and rumors of wars. The poor will always be among us. These were/are the words of Jesus. Do we really think we can solve all the world's problems? We are not called to make the world light. We are called to "be a light to the world". We cannot change the world, but we can change ourselves.... and in that our journey begins...

Sorry I "went on" so much!!! Guess I should check in more often, huh?

Love & Blessings... *Linda*

Free Vintage Image

2008-01-22T17:32:00.000-08:00

This is a vintage photo from a postcard in our own Tellnard Mountain collection. The postdate stamped on the back of the card is 1909.

Feel free to snag it and use it however you would like, personal or commercial. I only ask that if you include it in any collections, you also allow it to be used without restriction.

Just click on the image and a window will open with a larger view. Right click on that image and click on "save picture as". Enjoy!

A New Chapter...

2007-12-30T09:31:00.000-08:00

~ Church ministry is not exactly what some would call a lucrative line of work. In fact, our family has learned to live not paycheck to paycheck, but miracle to miracle. I could cry a river of tears... joyful tears, in recounting all the ways our Lord has provided for us over these past 23 years.

~Years ago, Mike was using his Navy training background, working in administration during the day, and playing heavy metal music by night. Music had always been his first love and he was giving it his all to make a career of it. Little by little that dark scene was beginning to wear away at him. Although he used his position to share his faith with his bandmates and others, eventually it was evident that this was no life for a Christian man or his family.

~He had been playing music on weekends at a church trying to make ends meet. One morning while preparing to play music for a funeral, he just bowed his head. "Lord, I can't do this anymore". "I love music". "And I love You". "I know you don't want me to work in these clubs anymore". "I want to use my music for You". "From now on, my music will be a ministry for You". "Just please, Lord... show me the way".

~As Mike played the music during that funeral, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see a Fransiscan Monk, whom he had never met before. "Would you consider working fulltime for us as our director of music"?

~Amazing. The Lord wastes no time when we are ripe for His will.

~Mike worked at the chapel with the brothers for about six months. He learned a lot there. Some good. Some bad. But, in accord with the words of Saint Paul... each lesson works for the good for those who love God.

~There was a time when Mike feared that perhaps he was being selfish believing that the Lord was calling him to a music ministry. He thought it would be better to find more financially secure work. He searched, and searched some more. He applied at every office, every wharehouse, every store. He interviewed, networked, and prayed. Everything fell through one after another. Finally, one day in prayer, he once again gave it all over to the Lord. "Please Lord... I'll do whatever you want me to do, no matter how humble". "If I am being self-centered in thinking You want me to use my music for You, then please tell me what to do". "Please Lord, give me a word". He then opened his bible... directly to Psalm 68. He looked down right where his finger had landed. "Sing to God".

~Days later we were in a Christian book store and the lady at the counter asked if he was who she thought he was. Didn't you play music at the chapel? She knew of a parish that desperately needed a fulltime musician. Within a week he was singing to God in a new home. That job led to other types of work such as teaching music at the parish school and getting involved in healing ministry. The pastor became a dear family friend.

~Just a sidenote.... during his years there, I once shared with Mike how jealous I was that he had always known his entire life that music was his passion. And that now he could use it for God was such a blessing. I told him I felt lost. He said, but you've got so many talents... I gruffed back "What am I supposed to do"? "Craft for God"? Days later the parish school where he worked lost their art teacher and the principal wanted me to come in for an interview. Yep. I crafted for God there for three years 'til our Hannah was born!

~As the local parishes combined, and downsizing was beginning to worry us, a pastor from our own city called Mike. A musician/singer Mike had done a wedding with recommended him for a position at a parish just minutes from home. What a blessing! Mike was overjoyed to "be home". We ended up buying a home in that parish and have greatly enjoyed raising our children in a parish with such a vibrant youth ministry. It is a wonderful church family, and we have grown close to so many.

~Still... reality sometimes intervenes and the Lord uses many means to direct us in the paths that He desires for us. As wonderful as our home parish is, the finances just aren't there to pay a fulltime musician enough to support a growing family. We have struggled through some very hard financial times during these past few years. If it were not for our parish family, our children wouldn't have had presents under the tree last year, and we would most definately not still be living in our home.

~Once again, Mike put all of his efforts into finding a new parish. He applied everywhere there was an opening. He travelled for interviews. He applied online. We were willing to move to Connecticut, Pennsylvania, Virginia, Missouri... The bites were many. But the offers were all the same as his current pay. It was becoming discouraging and Mike was really beginning to wonder what on earth the Lord was trying to teach him now...

~Then, one day Mike got an email. It was from a pastor he had never heard of, from a parish he had never heard of. Finally he saw the name of a dear friend who had recommended him. He read on. He replied. Within hours he heard back. The biggest negative was that this parish was an hour's drive away. From what the pastor shared, the pay would be about the same as he was already receiving. No. It wouldn't be worth the drive for the audition and interview. But... something tugged at Mike's heart. He felt he "had" to go. The Lord was leading him there for some purpose even if it wasn't the job.

~He went. The pastor and the others there for the audition and interview were thrilled with what Mike could offer. (Have I mentioned that my husband sings like an angel and is a very talented musician?)

~Within days, the pastor was meeting with the finance council trying to make Mike a better offer. He did. This new position will not make us financially independent, by any means, but it will lift much of the heavy burden. It will make up for the daycare income I no longer am able to bring in due to my arthritis. Hopefully, combined with the income I make online, we will be able to breath again.

~One of the best parts of this new parish is that there is a family life center next door. That is a ministry very near and dear to our hearts.

~And more lessons..... One of the treasures of our Catholic faith is the communion of Saints. Michael and I have loved learning about so many of their lives along our own journey. The richness of the lessons from their own experiences and examples. We have learned that the Lord uses many, many talents, sacrifices, virtues, personalities, etc to show us all how we can live out our own devotion to His will. The Saints give us hope... remind us that there is no pit so low that we cannot climb out of to live in holiness. So many see them as stone statues with perfect smiles, always living in perfect grace. They were men, women, and children... husbands, wives, orphans, soldiers, merchants, slaves...

~And this Saint Julie? I read about her more this morning. I am once again in awe of the mercy of God. He has brought a new dear friend into my life. One of my favorite bible verses has always been "learn from how the wild flowers grow". Her symbol is the sunflower. She would use the sunflower as a metaphor for the soul and share how if we let it, it grows in the direction God leads, just as the sunflower grows towards the sun. And she was paralyzed from the waist down for many years. I thought of the days when I cannot use my legs. While she was bedridden, she would make lace and altar cloths. She was crafty!!! And children would gather around her bed so that she could teach them of God's love.

~I don't share these parallels in any way to compare me to her. I have long believed that we don't choose the saints we feel particularly devoted to, but they find us. More correctly, the Lord brings us together. I know that there are new lessons ahead, and I feel blessed to have an example of a woman who suffered some of the same afflictions, and appreciated some of the same joys. I feel strengthened in the Lord that He has given me an example to hold onto along this path of my own journey.

~This morning was Michael's first mass at Saint Julie's. He called to say he was on his way home and he sounded so happy. He said that all three masses were overflowing with people and the choir was very warm and welcoming. I am so very happy for him.

Sometimes we can become very comfortable where we are and not want to leave. But the Lord knows the "whens" and the "wheres" that are best for us. If we want to keep growing throughout our lives, we do need to be more like that sunflower and leave the security of the shade to follow the rays of the sun and find our full purpose.

~As Saint Julie Billiart, the foundress of the Sisters of Notre Dame deNamur is well-known for saying "Oh, qu'il est bon, le bon Dieu"! "Oh, how good is the good God".

To Learn More About Saint Julie Brilliart Click Here

A Christmas Lesson...

2007-12-20T10:51:00.000-08:00

A couple of Christmas' ago, I was not in a "good place". I was in the perpetual exhaustive state of most moms with a 5 month old baby. I was dealing with all of the daily pleasures that twin teenagers tend to lavish their parents with, and still trying to be "Mary Poppins" for my 3 and 5 year olds. My psoriatic arthritis had resurged with a vengeance after the birth of the baby, and I was in constant agonizing pain. All the while, I was still providing daycare for 3 children, two of whom were also babies. I was at my emotional and physical wit's end. My teens were all but oblivious to what I was going through which was partially my fault for always trying to hide how bad things were. And they were very dedicated students and musicians working hard in their last year of highschool.

My wonderful husband, being a church musician and working in youth ministry, was in the midst of his busiest time of year. Still, after adult choir rehearsals, teen choir rehearsals, childrens' choir rehearsal, the rehearsals for the Christmas pageant, the religious ed classes, the weddings, funerals, meetings, and planning sessions, he would come home to help as much as he could including fixing dinner most nights, bathing the little ones, reading their bedtime story, praying with them, and tucking them in. All while I cried in pain, embracing my heating pad in one arm and my nursing baby in the other.

As the Holidays approached, I was becoming more and more aware of my physical limitations. All the pretending in the world could not hide that I was becoming incabable of even some of the simplest household tasks. There were days when I couldn't trust my arms to hold the baby safely and depended on propped pillows to protect her while she nursed. My sweet little Caleb became a pro at fixing his own peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Letting him down was beginning to weigh on me the most. Here he was in such formative years and mommy couldn't take him out to play and didn't even have the energy to do our preschooling together. Still... the one thing we had was cuddling. And we did a lot of it.

I tried my hardest to get the house ready for the festivities around the corner. Being the only female of my generation in our extended family, the Holidays are always at our home. That is a scenerio I always embraced... until that year. I knew I had no choice. I had to do it. If not for anyone else, for my two little ones who were so excited about Christmas coming.

Each day of preparation was torture. Every task I did, the daycare "adventures" undid. Every gift I purchased was one more still unwrapped upstairs... where I could not even climb the stairs to find.

I remember that Christmas Eve vividly. I was still scrubbing, baking, wrapping and decorating. My "to do" list was revised into an abridged "emergency necessities" list. As I was finishing up the last dessert, I broke down in a flood of tears. Mike and I were so dirt poor that year, we were not giving each other a gift. But I had resolved early in the season that after 21 years of marriage, this was going to be the year I made him a strawberry cheesecake from scratch.

The first Holiday I had ever spent with his family, Mike's mom made a lovely strawberry cheesecake, especially for him. It was his favorite dessert at the time. I remember thinking way back then, that someday I would learn to make one for him.

So... here I was... in the middle of our kitchen, surrounded by flour, sugar, pans, dishes, crying babies, whining little ones, half-wrapped presents, cookies galore... and... no strawberry cheesecake. I just laid my head in my arms and sobbed. 21 years and I couldn't even make him a stinking strawberry cheesecake for Christmas... That was all I had wanted to do for him...

Well, I gathered myself together and mustered whatever energy I could to finish the tasks that had to be done. Lots of traditions took the back seat that year in order to accomodate my challenges...

Then something unexpected happened. Our son Joshua came through the door with a bunch of goodies from our neighbors across the street. This lovely husband and wife with their own brood of grown children and many grandchildren, never forgot us at Christmas. Every year she would bake cookies and breads or cakes and send them over wrapped all pretty. I took the bundles from Joshua's arms. They must have heard we were having a tough year, because there was even more than usual. And there was a note. "Linda, keep all of the tins and platters, but when you are finished with it, could you please return the spring pan".

I opened the foil wrap. The tears returned. There, amidst the cookies and breads was the most perfect strawberry cheesecake.

All of a sudden, everything I ever thought about Christmas was transformed. It all came to life. This was the body of Christ in action. The Lord... and only the Lord, knew that a simple strawberry cheesecake was a desire of my heart to give as a gift to my husband. In my weakness that year, I was not able to do it. But by God's strength, and I'm sure His inspiration... He sent it to me via our neighbor.

I felt God's love for me so much in that moment. I felt Him embracing me. Letting me know that even if no one else in the world knew what I was going through... He did. It was also a reminder that if He could find a way to make a homemade strawberry cheesecake show up on our front door on Christmas Eve, that I should hold fast to Him because there was so much more He could do, and would do to help me out of that "place" I was in.

It didn't matter to me that I hadn't been the one to make the cake. This was so much better! A Christmas miracle good enough to eat! I wrote my neighbors a letter detailing what that cake meant to me. They were very moved and we all rejoiced in how God uses us to be a light to each other in this world.

I've been thinking about that Christmas Eve a lot today. As I was primping our Christmas tree in the front window, I saw my neighbor shoveling his front walk. His wife died suddenly earlier this year and this will be his first Christmas without her. My heart swelled as I imagined for a moment what he must be feeling. I know he is blessed to have many doting children who are his constant company and surround him with love and care. But it isn't the same... I thought of that strawberry cheesecake, and all the other desserts that graced our Christmas door. I thought of how those packages won't come anymore, but those loving gestures will warm my Christmas memories forever. I will especially never forget how God used a cheesecake... and a neighbor, to renew my hope.

And I am left wondering, praying... about what I can do in turn this year for my neighbor... "May the Lord ease his sorrow, and comfort him in His holy embrace" ... an embrace so often delivered in very unexpected packages...

Welcome to Our New Blog...

2007-12-16T08:58:00.000-08:00

It's a cold December morning here on Tellnard Mountain. It snowed throughout the night, and now the sound of sleet is slapping at the windows. It's not even officially winter yet, and we've already had our fair share of it's frigid grasp. There's a part of me that dreads the months ahead and all of the tasks that will still need to be met regardless of the frozen gray that bites at us as we leave our home. Yet... there's another part that somehow feels warm... This season has been so much like the ones I remember as a child. Those memories flood back like a blanket for the soul, reminding me that true warmth, like true peace isn't something that can be found in this world.

I have always hated the cold, even as a child. My dad would insist that I go outside and play with the other children. Mom would bundle me up 'til you could barely see only my eyes and I'd run down the stairs and across the street. All the kids would be on their wooden sleds with the metal runners... a few had those new phangled round plastic coasters, and one or two were hooting and laughing just as hard making the run on their piece of cardboard. I'd stand in line and wait my turn. While all the other kids bounced in anticipation of their ride down the steep hill, all I could think of was the long haul back up with my sled in tow! I'd make the run once or twice... the cold snow and ice would still manage to creep up passed the rim of my mittens so carefully sealed within the sleeve of my snow suit. Then there was the snow melting down into my boots... I would silently pray that I had been outside long enough to satisfy my parents, grab the rope of my sled and head back across the street, poke my head into Memere and Pepere's apartment to say hi, then back up the stairs and stumble through the door. Mom would help peel off the endless layers including the bread bags that she saved to wrap our double socked feet in so that they would slide into our boots easier. My skin would be bright pink and I couldn't feel her touch at first. She would wrap me in a blanket, put an extra blanket around my feet and gently rub outside the blanket 'til the feeling came back. Then the whistle of the kettle would blow, and she would come back from the kitchen a few moments later with some hot chocolate and cookies...

Once I was sufficiently cuddled and cared for, I could then spend the rest of the day daydreaming, writing, roleplaying, and of course... fighting with my brothers! This was the winter weekend routine of my childhood which only got to be even more fun when I was placed in charge of chaperoning my brother on these outings. He enjoyed the icy play much more than I, so the only added chapter to the story is that I would have to drag him home crying when I was satisfactorily frozen! And mom would somehow take care of both our needs at the same time. I read once that a mother's love is never divided, but multiplied... which was good news for our youngest brother when the two boys were sent out in the snow...

I do have one memory of winter outing that somehow erases all of the unpleasantries of the rest. One weeknight, just before dinner, mom realized there wasn't enough milk for the mashed potatoes. The snow storm outside made driving impossible, but Dad would make the treck to the corner store a couple blocks away on foot. Hey... we are talking mashed potatoes here! I don't know if he asked me, or if I asked him, but by some miracle, I ended up braving the storm with him. That walk is one of my treasured childhood memories and the subject of my poem, "A Walk In The Snow".

A few times over the next few years, I would venture out into the snow for some important missions... usually involving a cute boy... But for the most part, my idea of a nice winter has always been watching the pretty snow through the windows. But... there was this Sunday in 1982... My boyfriend drove through the snow so that we could attend mass together. Afterwards, we were going to his grandparents for breakfast. At the time, I could think of about a dozen places I would have rather been going on a date, but it was snowing afterall... Anywhere indoors would do!

After mass, we drove up the steep hill to his grandparent's home. As we walked from his van towards the door of their basement, this scent was wafting out into the cold. If I close my eyes and pray really hard, I can still smell it sometimes... Mike knocked on the little handhewn door, and opened it. His memere was the first to greet us. A kiss on each cheek and a warm welcome in English, then something in French. Her warm smile helped me know it was something nice. Then uncles, and aunts, cousins old and young... his mom and dad, who I had met a few times, brother, and finally... Pepere. More kisses, more smiles, more French...

There were only two rooms in the sparsely finished basement. The ceilings were low, and there were people EVERYWHERE! Yet... there was room for everyone. Mike found me a place to sit and made his way to the old stove where Memere was flipping the crepes and stirring the beans. Crepes and beans? For breakfast?

Then, I saw it for the first time. The first of many, many times... The twinkle in Memere's eye when she looked at Mike. And the way he looked at her... like he hadn't seen her in months. Yet, they lived on the same property... And it wasn't only Memere. It was Pepere, who may as well have been SuperMan to Mike. And his mom and dad too. I had never met a teenager who thought his parents were wonderful...

While Mike helped Memere heap the crepes and beans on the plates, I got lost in the experience. Laughter.... so much laughter... stories too. Somehow you could tell that they had been told so many times before, but everyone listened like it was the next chapter in a weekly radio show... Pepere's eyes widened for each of his many great-grandchildren who approached him with some greeting or little found gem...

The sounds of forks scraping plates, glasses clinking on the counter, coffee being poured, footsteps going up and down the stairs to the main floor, (for more coffee no doubt), and the familiar sound of the smoker's cough heard in every home I knew.

Mike smiled as he presented me with my plate. He thought it was funny I had never heard of crepes and beans and he promised that I would be pleasantly surprised. I was. The crispy crepes blanketed in powdered sugar.. The home-baked beans... The maple syrup... Did you know that when maple syrup seeps into the juice of baked beans, and the combination is thickened by powdered sugar, a portal to heaven is opened???

In fact... that whole morning opened a portal to heaven for me. I couldn't help but feel that this very ordinary breakfast, was an extraordinary moment in my life.

Oh... my family gathered on special occassions to share good food, conversation, and laughter too. But that's just it. This wasn't a "special occassion". This wasn't a family reunion. This was Sunday morning. And it was what they did EVERY Sunday morning!

I remember thinking that I wish I could feel the way I felt in that room for the rest of my life. Somehow every dream I ever had, ever fantasy of what life could be, paled in comparison...

I always knew my boyfriend was a special guy. It just never occured to me before that he was one member of a very special family. And they gathered in a very ordinary... very special place.

That Sunday morning... cold, snowy, gray... very much like this one... was my introduction to Tellnard Mountain.

As I write this, my 2 middle children are playing beneath our dining room table, my toddler is cuddling in the arms of her oldest sister in the living room, our oldest son has gone out into the big cold world to begin his own chapter of Tellnard Mountain, and our youngest child has already gone to heaven with Memere, Pepere, Mike's dad, my mom... and so many other loved ones. No doubt enjoying the scent of crepes and beans! My husband has just come through the door after playing the music for the Sunday morning masses, and shoveling our walkway again. He playfully says "Honey... I'm home". And has no idea how much that means to me at this particular moment.

How can I ever thank him for making my winter memories so warm? And for bringing me home... to Tellnard Mountain...
Memere & Pepere