Catholic Schools Week 2013

Last week, I was asked to share my thoughts with St. X on why I think Catholic education is important.  I taped a segment to put on WSTX.  This is what I said:

Good morning.  My name is Sharron Hilbrecht.  My son, Kyle, is a junior here at St. X, and I have two daughters at Holy Trinity.  I would like to speak on behalf of parents on why I think Catholic education is important.

By the time our youngest child graduates from high school, my husband, Kirk, and I will have spent almost a quarter of a million dollars on Catholic education.  And that does not include college.  A quarter of a million dollars.  Think of what that could buy.  A bigger house.  Fancy cars.  A suite at the Yum Center.  A vacation home in Florida…We choose Catholic education instead.

Some of my non-Catholic friends have asked me why Kirk and I are willing to spend this kind of money on education when the best public schools in Jefferson County are within walking distance of our house.  They point out that there are a few teachings of the Catholic Church with which I strongly disagree.  Why, they ask, are you willing to spend that kind of money to send your kids to Catholic schools?

I’ll tell you why.

What this money has bought is not only the best book education out there, but the best spiritual one as well.  Our children are surrounded by people living the Gospel of Christ in their every day lives and helping our kids to be the best version of themselves.   

The teachers and administrators of our children’s schools have been living examples of people of faith.  They have prayed FOR and WITH our children during difficult times in their lives.  Like when my husband, who is in the military, was in Afghanistan, one of the coaches here at St. X prayed for him everyday before practice. Whether there has been joy or sadness in our lives, our school family has been there for us, and our children have learned that as the Body of Christ, we share in each other’s joy and suffer with each other’s pain.

What this money has bought are schools that teach our children about the value of giving, of serving the neediest among us the way Jesus taught us to do.  Through their schools, my children have fed the hungry through Dare to Care and given drink to the thirsty through Edge Outreach.  They have clothed the naked through collections for the Schuhmann Center and visited the lonely at the Masonic Home.  They have lived the Gospel at their schools, making the world a better place for everyone. 

We may be at different levels on our journey as people of faith, but in our Catholic schools, we are all moving in the same direction:  Towards Christ.  Towards becoming the people God meant for us to be.  Towards being that shining light on the hill calling others to join us and share in the community that is the Catholic Faith. 

And that is worth every, single penny.

A reading from the Gospel according to Matthew.

“You are the light of the world. A city set on a mountain cannot be hidden. Nor do they light a lamp and then put it under a bushel basket; it is set on a lamp stand, where it gives light to all in the house. Just so, your light must shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your heavenly Father."

Let us pray:

Heavenly Father, Your light shines brightly in your children. You have inspired us to do good deeds in your name. Bless this school and all who work to make your will known in the world. We ask this in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Books of 2013

This year, I plan to list every book I read and a score for it.  I thought about writing a little "why I did/did not like it" blurb, but I know I won't keep that up, so a score from 1-5 is what I can do.  Hopefully I can remember to write down the books at all!

Book                                                     Author                                        Score 1-5

State of Wonder                                   Ann Patchett                                  3
The Vision of Emma Blau                 Ursla Hegi                                      4
A Secret Gift                                        Ted Gup                                          4
The Dovekeepers                               Alice Hoffman                                  5
Gone Girl                                            Gillian Flynn                                   4
The Murderers Daughters                Randy Susan Meyers                        3
The Promise of Stardust                      Pricille Sibley                                 4
The Light Between Oceans                  M. L. Steadman                            4
Remember Me? (2nd time)                 Sophie Kinsella                               4
Small Miracles of the Holocaust       Y. Halberstam & J. Leventhal           5
The Girl in Hyacinth Blue                    Susan Vreeland                             3.5
World War Z                                       Matt Brooks                                3 (just too long)
The Dream                                         Harry Burnstein                               4
Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children   Ransom Riggs               4
Austenland                                          Shannon Hale                                3  (ho hum)
Zealot                                                   Reza Aslan                                     5  (very enlightening)
Dr. Sleep                                              Stephen King                                 4.5 (almost scary)
Orphan Train                                    Christina Baker Kline                        3.5
The Year Without Summer: 1816     William Klingaman                           4  (fascinating)
Cornbread Mafia (didn't finish)           James Higdon                             3 (interesting but poorly written)

Some of the books before 2013 (not sure what year, just before 2013)

Bitter Is the New Black
90 Minutes in Heaven
The House of Sand and Fog
The Happiness Project
A Reliable Wife
Cutting for Stone
The Forgotten Garden
American Shaolin
Same Kind of Different as Me
The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks
The Invisible Wall
City of Thieves
On Hallowed Ground
The Hangman's Daughter
People of the Book
In the Garden of Beasts
Isaac's Storm
The Devil in the White City
In the Heart of the Sea
Cover Girl Confidential
Nineteen Minutes
Empire of the Summer Moon
THe Heretic's Daughter
Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet
The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn
The Education of Little Tree
The Time Traveler's Wife
The Lovely Bones
Water for Elephants
In Cold Blood
Eli the Good
The Known World
Sense and Sensibility
The Poisonwood Bible
Fall on Your Knees
Snow Flower and the Secret Fan
Teasing Secrets from the Dead
Three Cups of Tea
The Help
A Map of the World
One Thousand White Women
Little Bee
Stones from the River
The Widow of the South
Sarah's Key
The Art of Racing in the Rain
The Glass Castle
Half Broke Horses
Moloka'i
The Worst Hard Time
The Children's Blizzard

Thanksgiving 2012

Thanksgiving this year didn't suck.  It was nice, actually.  It wasn't the same as it used to be, but it was still good anyway.  Everyone came to our house and we crowded around 3 tables and had too much sweet potato casserole and too much dressing and way too much dessert, but the turkey was all eaten and so was the corn pudding and everybody left with leftovers, which was the plan anyway.

I made a turkey for the second time in my life, the first time without any help.  It was scary, but I followed Alton Brown's instructions on the Food Network, and I think it turned out okay.  It was pretty enough, but I have no way of knowing how it tasted since I don't eat turkey.  But like I said, there wasn't much left, so I'm guessing it was good.

To have some part of the people we were missing, I used Granny's red pot to cook the green beans and Mimi's carving knife and fork on the turkey.  On my table were blue dishes of Mom's that she got by saving up green stamps at the grocery in the 70s.  She was ready to sell them at a yard sale but I claimed them before she could get rid of them.  We used the table and chairs Dad snagged from OLC years ago, and on the table was a vase of flowers from a hydrangea bush that Uncle CJ started from a cutting.  Aunt Jeri gave it to me when we lived on Bellaire Ave., and I moved it to this house 10 years ago and planted in my back yard.  It blooms more beautifully every summer, and this year, it has been warm enough that the blooms are still on the bush.

I love having parties at my house, especially Thanksgiving.  It is such a pure celebration.  No presents, not much decorating necessary, just food and family.  We come together year after year to say, "Thank you," and to remember how very, very lucky we are to have each other to share a laugh and a story and way too much sweet potato casserole.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Help

Prostrate on the floor,
I beg for mercy.
Hear me, O Lord,
Lift me from my despair
Let me know that there is hope
That a light will shine
That somehow, some way
Peace will come.

On Being the Mother of a Boy

Found these two poems/prayers today while working on a bookmark for the St. X MOMs Club:

Nobody knows what a boy is worth, 

and the world must wait and see; 

for every man in an honored place, 

is a boy that used to be.

-Phillips Brooks

   

And I love this prayer...

Build me a son, O Lord, 
who will be strong enough to know when he is weak 

and brave enough to face himself when he is afraid;

Who will be proud and unbending in honest defeat 
and humble and gentle in victory.

Build me a son, O Lord, 
whose wishes will not take the place of deeds; 
my son, who will know Thee, 
who is the foundation stone, of knowledge. 
Lead him, I pray, not in the path of ease 
but under the stress and spur 
of difficulties and challenge.

Here, let him learn to stand up to the storm. 
Here, let him learn compassion for those who fall. 
Build me a son, whose heart will be clear, 
whose goals will be high; 
a son who will master himself  
before he seeks to master other men, 
who will reach into the future, 
yet never forget his past.

And after all these things are his, 
add, I pray, enough of a sense of humor 
so that he may always be serious 
but never take himself too seriously. 
Give him humility so that he will

always remember 
the simplicity of true greatness 
and an open mind of true wisdom 
and the meekness of true strength.

Then I his mother will dare to whisper, 
I have not lived in vain. 

---Unknown

quoted by General Douglass McArthur

We Spotted the Ocean

Walk on the Ocean
by Toad the Wet Sprocket

We spotted the ocean
at the head of the trail.
Where are we going
so far away?

Walk on the ocean
Step on the stone
Flesh becomes water
Wood becomes bone

Half an hour later
We packed up our things
We said we'd send letters
And all of those little things.

They knew we were lying
but they smiled just the same
It seems they'd already
forgotten we came.

Now back at the homestead
Where the air makes you choke
People don't know you
Trust is a joke

Don't even have pictures
Just memories to hold
Get sweeter each season
As we slowly grow old.

Kyle was playing this cd in the car on the way to school this morning.  It has always, always reminded me of my Irish ancestors who emigrated to the US back in the 1880s.  I will never know how they left. As far as I know, Jane, my great-grandmother, only went back once.  How did she leave?  How did they let her go?

I was looking them up in Ancestry.com yesterday.  Every now and then, I just get on a tear and want to find out all that I can about them.  I can only go as far back as my great-great grandparents, and then they just fall off the map.  I'm not even sure what one of my gr-gr grandmother's maiden name was.  Mimi wrote it down as Kate Ryan in Dad's baby book, but I can't find a Kate Ryan married to Michael Wilson.  I can find a Catherine (Kate) Heffernan married to Michael Wilson, and they have many of the same children as Grandma Jane's brothers and sisters as far as I can find, but I can't find Grandma Jane listed among them.  There is a Kate Ryan married to a William Wilson, which is the name of Jane's brother.  It's all so confusing, and none of it is centrally organized because the British didn't keep good records of the Catholics.  Each individual church has records but none all in one place.  Anyway, I keep looking for information on Kate and Michael and William and Margaret.

All this to say, that as I was driving home today, and listening to this song and thinking about Jane and John and their leaving of Ireland, I also thought of Elisha and Rebecca and John and Sarah and Lucy and George.  They all left what they knew to come to Kentucky when it was young.   Especially Rebecca came to my mind.  She had 14 children, five of them sons.  Again, I think of my own son, and how different, how protected his life is now.

Last weekend, I let Kyle go out with Will on Saturday night.  They met up with some girls and went to Cherokee Park and then out to get food and then back to one of the girls' houses.  He texted me twice where he was and was home by midnight.  I was still nervous until he walked in the door.

Rebecca's sons, on the other hand, would have been out and maybe on their own by age 16.  Certainly they would have been out.  With a gun.  Loaded.  In territory still inhabited by Native Americans who were hostile to the takeover of their lands by white settlers.  With bears and bobcats and snakes around.  And outlaws.  They would probably be gone for days, weeks at a time.  With no phone calls or texts to let her know they were okay.  No GPS to get them home if they got lost.  How did she stand it?  Did she love her children less than I do mine?  Did she maybe not get as attached since their lives were so precarious anyway?  How does a mother raise up a child and then let them go?  I just don't understand.

And how did Catherine and Margaret let their children leave Ireland?  How did Catherine watch most of her dozen kids sail away to distant lands knowing she would probably never see them again?  Certainly the ones who went to Australia were gone forever.  Maybe the ones in America would be back someday, but maybe not.

As my own children get closer and closer to leaving home, I look to my female ancestors and wonder how they did it.  I try to draw strength from them and remember that it is not like it was.  We have phones and internet and cars and planes.  Life is easy.  It is connected.  Distance is not forever anymore.  Even so, how do I let go?

I just wish it would all go away...

Usually I don't want to change my life.  Usually, I am okay with where decisions, chance, fate has placed me.  Today is the exception.  Today is the one day where if I could do it over I would.  Today is the day that if I could go back in time and send Kyle to Belize instead of Appalachia, I would fork over the money in an instant.  I would say, "$1500?  No problem.  Here you go.  Here is the money.  Go change the world for somebody."

But I can't.

I can't.

I can't.

And we are here where we are, grieving today for decisions made over a year ago to go to Appalachia because it was cheaper.  Closer.  Safer, for God's sake, than Central America.

And here we are, Kyle dreaming about drowning, still, forever and ever changed.  A boy is dead.  His parents bereft.  A community remains in shock.  The world is without a star.  My heart is broken over and over again with imagining how it was, how it felt, what it must have been like for my son, my sweet, sensitive boy to watch somebody go under, thinking he was kidding, doing nothing to help, and then realizing it wasn't a joke.  Feeling like it is his fault that this boy is dead, that if he had moved sooner or dove deeper or yelled louder that things would have changed.

Kyle says that if his not going to Appalachia would mean Finoy would still be alive that he would gladly not have gone to Appalachia.  But if Finoy would have died anyway, Kyle says he's glad he was there because it has made him the person he is today.

That may be so.  Kyle may feel like that, but I do not.  I cannot.  I wish with all of me that I would have given Kyle the money to go to Belize.  I wish I could wipe this event from his life.  That I could change history and his fate would be different.

If Kyle had not been there, then maybe Finoy wouldn't have been swimming across Kinniconick Creek at the exact moment that the current had the ability to pull him under.  Maybe he would still be alive, had gone to Spain, graduated top of his class at school, headed to college and was on his way to becoming the Jesuit priest he had planned on being.  His parents would be happily living their lives watching their children grow, marry, make lives for themselves, better the world.

If Kyle had not been there, maybe Kyle wouldn't be playing guitar in his band or volunteering so much or planning on going into counseling someday.   He might be working at Paul's instead of lifeguarding. He might still be playing football.  I would not be taking him out today to do random acts of kindness in memory of a boy he hardly knew who died before his eyes in a creek full of people having fun.

If Kyle had not been there, there would be a lot fewer tears shed and a lot less sleepless nights.  Life would have been different.  Easier?  Who knows, but I could do without this weight pressing down on me, on Kyle, at odd times.  I could do without watching him disappear into his video games to escape his memories.  I could do without worrying so much about what might happen to one of my kids when they leave the house.  I could do without the guilt that I feel because my child is alive and someone else's is dead and I am so, so glad that the grieving parent is not me.  I could do without the shame at the waves of relief that I felt the moment that I heard, "One of the kids on the mission trip drowned today.  Thankfully all the boys from St. X are okay..."  Thank you, God, that it wasn't my child who died!

Yes, I could do without all of this.  I would happily pay that extra $1000 to make this all go away.  I'd pay $2000, $5000, $10,000...Hell, how much do you want?  How much?  Because if I could make it go away I would.