Please keep in your prayers a 16 year old girl who was involved in an accident this past weekend. She sustained serious injuries to her spine and neck and is in serious but stable condition. The brave girl has already undergone several multi-hour surgeries to try to heal her wounds and save her ability to walk.
Not much will be known about her prospects moving forward until after the round of operations is complete and they begin the tests. Please storm heaven for her and for her entire family as they accompany her through this period.
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Monday, December 17, 2012
Eternal Rest Grant Unto Them, O Lord: and Let Perpetual Light Shine Upon Them.
After the unspeakably tragic events that unfolded in Connecticut last week, let's pray for the innocent children that were killed, and for their grieving families. Words cannot begin to express what they must be going through.
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
I got onto my blogger account this evening and was tiddying up a little, when I came across this unpublished draft from November 2009. There was nothing other than the picture below of Killian when he was about a month old and still very much in the Intensive Care Unit (as you can see).
It really blew my mind to remember once again how far my little boy has come. Take a look at what he's grown into!
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Test of Fire
I'm not a big fan of election summers. They're typically an endless barrage of political ads, mudslinging and media personalities bickering about the latest gaffe or mishap. I decided months ago who I was going to vote for (and his name rhymes with "pit" in case you were wondering), so all the chatter is meaningless to me.
Once in a while, however, a really good ad or discussion of substance will come up. The video below is one of those. Admittedly, I have mostly kept to myself about this election - preferring to focus on the daily duties of my family, job, etc. This video made me reflect, that not only is it our civic duty to cast our vote, but we also have a moral responsibility to vote and help others vote the right way. I think all Catholics should see this video and spend some time reflecting on.
Our choices have lasting and far-reaching consequences. This election is no exception. Think about it, and make it count!
Once in a while, however, a really good ad or discussion of substance will come up. The video below is one of those. Admittedly, I have mostly kept to myself about this election - preferring to focus on the daily duties of my family, job, etc. This video made me reflect, that not only is it our civic duty to cast our vote, but we also have a moral responsibility to vote and help others vote the right way. I think all Catholics should see this video and spend some time reflecting on.
Our choices have lasting and far-reaching consequences. This election is no exception. Think about it, and make it count!
Thursday, May 10, 2012
The New Scar on My Soul
I end up reading a lot of articles. Some of them I like, most are just information that I process and move on. A few really grab me and leave a lasting impact. A handful have made me shed a tear. That is the case of the article below penned by an anonymous author about his abortion experience.
Abortion is one of the most tragic and traumatic events a person can endure. Throughout the 2 years I had the pleasure of working at Bethesda Post-Abortion Healing Ministry, I came to see in a new and profound way the scars that these men and women carry with them. Women are more likely to come forward for healing, but that doesn't mean the man involved is not grieving and deeply pained.
This story of a father and the tragic decision he and his wife made to abort two of their children is heart-rending and eye-opening. With two little boys of my own that I shudder to even think of losing, my heart goes out to this dad who will only see his children in heaven.
Let his testimony be a motivation to continue praying for all pre-born children and their safety, as well as the grieving parents who wish they could have their children back.
The New Scar on My Soul
My
soul carries a new scar. The pain is fresh and keen, and I know that
while time might see the pain fade, I will never fully recover from what
I've seen, and done. For I have failed, intentionally and knowingly,
in the first duty of a parent: protecting the lives of two of my
children.
My wife and I wanted children; alas, we needed IVF treatment to realize this dream. Several cycles and multiple embryo implantations later, we welcomed our blessing from G-d, who is the light of our lives.
Recently, we tried for another.
"It never rains, but it pours," said the fertility doctor -- of the three embryos that were implanted, all three took. We were faced with the news of triplets. I was shocked, knowing the burden that would entail, but since G-d gave us three, I was prepared to do whatever I needed to do to help, manage, and provide.
My wife? Something snapped. She insisted that we do a "selective reduction" from three to one, or else she would have a full abortion. She was adamant. She would not carry three. She would not carry two.
I was presented with a Coventry-esque decision: save one, or save none. I chose the former, though I tried on several occasions to convince her to at least keep twins. I failed.
We were told, point-blank, by the doctor who would do the procedure that they would inject potassium chloride into the placenta to stop the hearts. We were told, point-blank, that it was painless. Even then, I knew I was being lied to, but given the choice presented, I agreed anyway. My mantra became "Save one, or save none."
My wife and I wanted children; alas, we needed IVF treatment to realize this dream. Several cycles and multiple embryo implantations later, we welcomed our blessing from G-d, who is the light of our lives.
Recently, we tried for another.
"It never rains, but it pours," said the fertility doctor -- of the three embryos that were implanted, all three took. We were faced with the news of triplets. I was shocked, knowing the burden that would entail, but since G-d gave us three, I was prepared to do whatever I needed to do to help, manage, and provide.
My wife? Something snapped. She insisted that we do a "selective reduction" from three to one, or else she would have a full abortion. She was adamant. She would not carry three. She would not carry two.
I was presented with a Coventry-esque decision: save one, or save none. I chose the former, though I tried on several occasions to convince her to at least keep twins. I failed.
We were told, point-blank, by the doctor who would do the procedure that they would inject potassium chloride into the placenta to stop the hearts. We were told, point-blank, that it was painless. Even then, I knew I was being lied to, but given the choice presented, I agreed anyway. My mantra became "Save one, or save none."
Read more: http://www.americanthinker.com/2012/03/the_new_scar_on_my_soul.html#ixzz1uWrWPy7P
Friday, January 27, 2012
Pigskin Wisdom for the Playoff Season
As we all get ready for Super Bowl Sunday which will cap a particularly spectacular playoff this year, I thought all you fellow football fans might enjoy this piece from the Wall Street Journal written by an enlightened Englishman:
In its energy and complexity, football captures the spirit of America better than any other cultural creation on this continent, and I don't mean because it features long breaks in which advertisers get to sell beer and treatments for erectile dysfunction. It sits at the intersection of pioneering aggression and impossibly complex strategic planning. It is a collision of Hobbes and Locke; violent, primal force tempered by the most complex set of rules, regulations, procedures and systems ever conceived in an athletic framework.
Soccer is called the beautiful game. But football is chess, played with real pieces that try to knock each other's brains out. It doesn't get any more beautiful than that.
In its energy and complexity, football captures the spirit of America better than any other cultural creation on this continent, and I don't mean because it features long breaks in which advertisers get to sell beer and treatments for erectile dysfunction. It sits at the intersection of pioneering aggression and impossibly complex strategic planning. It is a collision of Hobbes and Locke; violent, primal force tempered by the most complex set of rules, regulations, procedures and systems ever conceived in an athletic framework.
Soccer is called the beautiful game. But football is chess, played with real pieces that try to knock each other's brains out. It doesn't get any more beautiful than that.
Sorry, Favre fans. I had to do it!
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Every Public Airport in California
Seems like not all that long ago my cousin, Phil Anady, and I were little kids running around playing baseball and video games together. Now we both have wives and kids of our own, as well as more ambitious goals than making the Little League All Star Team.
In addition to being a fantastic middle school teacher, Phil has been a flying planes since he was high school. During a recent visit I was blessed to have with Phil and the rest of the Anady family in California, he told me about his incredible goal of landing at every public airport in the state of California. At first the idea seemed pretty daunting; then I checked out the blog he keeps to log his adventures, and I realized that daunting didn't even begin to describe the magnitude of the endeavor.
Below is a link to his blog, complete with maps, stunning pictures from his plane, and information about his current projects. My hat is off to Phil in his exciting adventure and I wish him the best of luck. Check it out for yourself:
In addition to being a fantastic middle school teacher, Phil has been a flying planes since he was high school. During a recent visit I was blessed to have with Phil and the rest of the Anady family in California, he told me about his incredible goal of landing at every public airport in the state of California. At first the idea seemed pretty daunting; then I checked out the blog he keeps to log his adventures, and I realized that daunting didn't even begin to describe the magnitude of the endeavor.
Below is a link to his blog, complete with maps, stunning pictures from his plane, and information about his current projects. My hat is off to Phil in his exciting adventure and I wish him the best of luck. Check it out for yourself:
Flying California
About The Pilot and Mission
The Pilot
I started flying when I was 16 years old, soloed at 17 with 16 hours of flight time and eventually finished my training and passed the private pilot checkride at the age of 20 with about 64 total hours of training. I learned to fly at Cable Airport in a Cessna 152. I currently rent and fly a Cessna 172 out of French Valley and a Cessna 162 Skycatcher located at Hemet Ryan Airport. My “day job” is teaching middle school math and science therefore aviation is purely a hobby and passion for me but my long term goals are to earn an instrument and commercial rating and eventually become a part-time Certified Flight Instructor.
The Mission Click here to read more...
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
G'nighnigh, Daddy!
There are few things in life as humbling and terribly moving as the realization that you are important in the life of a little child. Even more when it's your own child.
I recently returned from a rather exhausting 5 day business trip that had me in a different time zone every night. The entire time I was counting the minutes until I would see my boys and my wife again. As it turns out, they were doing the same. Both boys - each in their own way - showed me how much they missed Daddy.
Rocco was up when I got home and he couldn't seem to contain himself when I picked him up. He was dancing and wiggling and giggling (he's normally doing all or some combination of those things, but this time it was with a special joy). He kept giving me hugs and those sloppy, slobbery kisses 1 year olds are known to dish out. I was more than happy to take all he wanted to give.
Killian was napping when I got home so his moment came later that night. We three boys spent the afternoon wrestling and running around the house shooting imaginary guns and playing with "da guys" (any action hero qualifies). When it came time for bed, we tucked him in and I said as I do countless times each day, "I love you, Killian." My little 2 year old whose normal language is a stream of gibberish punctuated by individual words looked up at me and said very clearly, "I love you, daddy."
I was floored and looked at my wife who was in a similar state of joyful shock. He had never said something so clearly. I went back in to give him another kiss and say goodnight. He one-upped me and said, "I miss you. G'nighnigh daddy."
It was one of those moments when everything makes sense. When I realized that, despite all my failings and how insignificant I am, I'm very important in the eyes of two little boys. And that's more than enough to keep me going.
I recently returned from a rather exhausting 5 day business trip that had me in a different time zone every night. The entire time I was counting the minutes until I would see my boys and my wife again. As it turns out, they were doing the same. Both boys - each in their own way - showed me how much they missed Daddy.
Rocco was up when I got home and he couldn't seem to contain himself when I picked him up. He was dancing and wiggling and giggling (he's normally doing all or some combination of those things, but this time it was with a special joy). He kept giving me hugs and those sloppy, slobbery kisses 1 year olds are known to dish out. I was more than happy to take all he wanted to give.
Killian was napping when I got home so his moment came later that night. We three boys spent the afternoon wrestling and running around the house shooting imaginary guns and playing with "da guys" (any action hero qualifies). When it came time for bed, we tucked him in and I said as I do countless times each day, "I love you, Killian." My little 2 year old whose normal language is a stream of gibberish punctuated by individual words looked up at me and said very clearly, "I love you, daddy."
I was floored and looked at my wife who was in a similar state of joyful shock. He had never said something so clearly. I went back in to give him another kiss and say goodnight. He one-upped me and said, "I miss you. G'nighnigh daddy."
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