A story in today’s feature section profiles the challenges and rewards of the baby boomer generation: we endure loss, grief, which peaks when we are in our 50s. Some losses are predictable – the death of a parent, the children leaving home. Some are not: unemployment, the end of a marriage.  But even when we expect something like the death of a parent, the grief comes.

However, this time is not without benefit. We gain self-awareness, wisdom, and understanding of what is important in life. We have a greater sense of clarity and purpose in our lives. Boomers are 70 million strong – now aged 48-66 – and are working hard to learn from their experiences and from each other.

Life’s transitions seem mirrored in nature:  cycles of “dying,” letting go, a time of quiet or dormancy, then the new life, new beginnings. Our losses serve not only as something to move through, but they also come rich with lessons, to strengthen us with wisdom and compassion.

(S-R archives photo: Grass widows and buttercups)

I have a button on my purse that reads “I STAND WITH THE SISTERS,” referring to the grand inquisition of the women religious in North America by the Vatican.

The whole episode is so ridiculous that I know of no one who supports this investigation. Literally, no one.

The clerical nonsense continues.  New York Times columnist Maureen Dowd writes about the battle between our political system which seeks to provide birth control coverage for all women who work or go to college at Catholic institutions and Catholic leaders who protest this effort by President Obama. 

Most Catholics think that birth control is acceptable. Gallup poll results released Tuesday tell readers that 82 percent of U.S. Catholics believe that birth control is morally acceptable.

“The church insists it’s an argument about religious freedom, not birth control. But, really, it’s about birth control, and women’s lower caste in the church”, Dowd says.

Perhaps I need to revise my button to include not only the amazing nuns, but my Catholic lay-women friends, too: “I STAND WITH ALL MY SISTERS!”

Saturday night we went to dinner at a favorite Thai restaurant.  With a table near the entrance, we had a perfect view of the high school couples who were attending prom.

The girls wore dresses so sparkly, they should have come with warning labels. The boys sported tuxedoes and those shiny patent-leather shoes.

The girls tugged at the spaghetti straps that wouldn’t stay in place while trying to lift the hems of the dresses off of the floor with their other hand. Their necklines scooped and dipped, much to their dates’ obvious satisfaction.

“You went to your high school prom, didn’t you?” asked my husband.  I told him yes, but it was the 70s and my dress looked more like an Amish woman’s nightgown, compared to these gowns. Well, maybe not quite that bad. And I remember having a fun time, happy to be with my boyfriend and comfortable in my well-shopped for dress.

What I noticed most about these prom participants, was not one of them smiled. They did not appear to be having a good time; they appeared very ill at ease in their fancy frocks and rented shoes. The girls ran in a posse, back and forth to the bathroom while the boys circled in a small huddle.

Soon a couple came in alone – no limo and no awkward flamingo dancer dress, but a girl wearing a stunning red satin dress and shoes that didn’t rival a local skyscraper’s height. Her date wore a suit a with a tie that matched her dress. They sat down and giggled and chatted away the night.  

Growing up is tough and even when we dress for the next act of our lives, it still takes time to grow comfortable in our own skin, our own lives. Perhaps that is what nights like prom are for – a brief, exciting dress rehearsal.

(S-R archives photo: Shadle Park High School student Erin Fiorillo shows off one of the many prom dresses she has collected for her senior project.)

It is easy to believe those who are wealthy, famous or educated must have a great life, free of the anxiety and problems others suffer. Then you think about the Kennedy family.

Tragedy has once again befallen this American family.

Mary Kennedy, the estranged wife of Robert Kennedy Jr., hanged herself yesterday. She was an accomplished architect, an involved philanthropist and a devoted mom.

People will speculate as to her motivation, but perhaps even she may not have understood what prompted her to end her life. Mental illness? A moment of desperation? A world view she perceived offered only suffering? No exit?

As this family once again stands in the public spotlight, awash in grief, I pause and offer thoughts of hope and healing.

When we are young, we seek adventure and look for ways to explore our world. Young people are so privileged to travel to different countries, to immerse themselves in another culture, and to learn about life while living it in new and exciting ways. Travel, I strongly believe, is the best form of education.

Sadly, the adventure ended for some Boston University students when their van crashed in New Zealand. Despite the risks, we release our children into the world and hope that they understand the dangers, the risks.  Unfortunately, precious children cannot be protected from accidents, nor can our hearts be protected from the anguishing grief those accidents bring.

Peace for the families and the Boston University community in the days ahead…

Mother’s Day. I tolerated it during those years when I longed for a child who could not be born. A child who could not be born from me.

And then…he arrived. A child through adoption, the miraculous process of child matched with parents. The ultimate blind date.

Alex is 18-years-old now. I still marvel at our coming together: different continents, same blood type. He looks like my husband, he acts like me. But his talents are uniquely his own. His creative mind, his generous spirit, his refusal to hurry through life, he is a wondrous soul who knows himself and acts accordingly – no matter how much I try to take him off course. I wish I had possessed half his self-confidence when I was twice his age.

I am grateful for the moments: when he was 3-years-old, he put his chubby little hands on my face and proclaimed, “I want to mah-wee you, Mommy!”  I watched one morning as he closed his eyes tightly and jumped on top of a book. When I asked, in that staccato, parent voice,”What..ARE..you..doing?!” He said, “I want to get in that story!” That year he also announced at breakfast he had been gone in the night, “The Moon Horse came and got me and took me for an adventure, Mommy. So, when I’m gone from my bed, don’t worry. I am with the Moon Horse.”  

At 7-years-old, he decided he loved “putting on shows” and stepped onto a stage, memorizing lines, performing with ease before 200 people. Tonight he performs in Footloose at a local theater. 

When my cancer came, he stayed close and made huge bowls of mashed potatoes because I said that was the only food that tasted good when I was in the hospital. Eight months later, we excused him from school for two weeks and traveled to Italy.  We walked off the grief from my illness - 81 miles over Italian streets. Alex is a perfect traveling companion: curious about everything and undaunted when plans go awry. He loved the “dead guy in a glass box” at St. Peter’s in Rome. He walked through Assisi, chattering on and on about St. Francis, who “talked” with animals.  We stood still in Piazza della Signoria catching snowflakes on our tongues while pigeons strutted around our feet. He hauled his suitcase on and off trains and over cobblestones through Bologna, Florence, Rome, Pescara, Perugia.  

While I have hauled him across this continent as well as  across the Atlantic Ocean, he has taken me on this wonderful journey of motherhood, a journey made up of wonderful moments.

And that is my daily prayer: give me grace to pay attention, to the moments, to the joy, to the gift who is our child.

We waited so long for him to arrive, but our journey, like those Italian trains, moved fast. Someday soon the Moon Horse will call him and he will follow, jumping into his own story. I’ll try not to worry. As he travels into young adulthood, I hope we have not left him with too much childhood baggage to haul into his future.

Thank you, Alex, for the privilege of sharing our lives, for teaching us more than we could possibly teach you. No matter how old you are or where your dreams take you, know that our love travels with you, always…through eternity into forever. Xoxoxo ~ Mom

(Photo of Cathy and Alex, Piazza della Signoria, Florence, 2005)

Today I bumped into an Italian man who has lived in this country for 30 years. Since I can still speak some Italian from my college year in Florence, I started a conversation.

He spoke about what has changed in Italy, his mom, how he met his wife. And he told me he became an American citizen when Obama was elected.

He said that he knew he would finally be accepted as a real American because this country elected a black man  - Obama - as its president. Now he could feel accepted, too.

“He is the smartest man we ever had as president. And now he has accepted everyone when he (Obama) said he supports marriage for everybody,” said my Italian acquaintance.

“He is a man who is smart and has a good heart.”

It is a good time for all – all people, no matter how they define themselves – to be a citizen of the United States.

(S-R archives photo)

Hillary Clinton received a great deal of attention yesterday…not for anything she said in Bangladesh as Secretary of State, but instead for the state of her appearance. She wore her glasses, no make-up and had this to say when comments were made:

 “I feel so relieved to be at the stage I'm at in my life right now. Because you know if I want to wear my glasses I'm wearing my glasses. If I want to wear my hair back I'm pulling my hair back. You know at some point it's just not something that deserves a lot of time and attention. And if others want to worry about it, I let them do the worrying for a change.”  

When will people get it? It’s not about the hair…it’s her brains under her hair that deserve our attention. Maybe next week we can talk about Speaker John Boehner's tendency toward tears?

(S-R archives photo)

Maurice Sendak, children’s book author and illustrator, died early today. He was 83.  

His work entertained and delighted children. He once said his illustrations for “Where the Wild Things Are” were taken from his relatives – the less attractive and rather unpleasant ones.  

“Sendak also created costumes for ballets and staged operas, including the Czech opera ‘Brundibar,’ which he also put on paper with collaborator Pulitzer-winning playwright Tony Kushner in 2003.”

Sendak designed the amazing Pacific Northwest Ballet's “Nutcracker” production which later became a television movie and he produced various animated TV series based on his illustrations.

His quirky illustrations and view of childhood resonated with children everywhere. He leaves a treasured literary legacy for generations to enjoy.

(S-R archives photo: Max Records stars in “Where the Wild Things Are.” Warner Bros.)

It has been 15 months since my nephew arrived home from a one-year tour of duty in Iraq. Tomorrow his brother leaves for a nine-month stint in Afghanistan. I have three sisters, no brothers. And among us we have 10 sons, no daughters. And our closest experience to family in the military was our father who served in WWII. We are not accustomed to these vigils of worry with our children living in such violent circumstances.

 The Peace Corps had a slogan a few years ago: “The Peace Corps: the toughest job you’ll ever love.” I knew the first time I heard it, that it was not written by a parent. Every mom knows that parenting is the toughest job you’ll ever love. And that tough part is not the diapers, the colic, the endless responsibility or even the teen years. It is the letting go.

 To raise a child, to love them more than you love your own life and then to step aside as they make their own choices, is tough.  We cannot save them from emotional or physical hurt. We cannot live their lives for them; we cannot protect them when life throws them deep grief and loss. We can simply bear witness to their journey, their choices. 

On the phone this morning, we chatted, that nephew and I, that 30-year-old man who has chosen to serve his country through the US military. This man who is just as he was a child: kind and gentle and thoughtful. I promised to call his mom often. I promised prayers without ceasing and regular care packages of whatever he wants. And I will end each message as I always have: “Brad, sending you all my love and Aunty Cathy kisses!” I didn’t cry until he hung up. 

The countdown to our reunion begins…

(S-R archives photo)

I am from the Beach Boys era, not the Beastie Boys, but I could not help noticing all the attention the death of Beastie Boy Adam Yauch has received in the last 24 hours.

 The trio was recently inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, Yauch was too ill to attend the ceremony, but wrote “to anyone who has been touched by our band, who our music has meant something to, this induction is as much our as it is yours.”

 Sometimes we learn more about great contributions to our culture after the contributors die and we discover their legacy, an on-going legacy of joy, music and in Yauch’s life, compassion, too.

Our Boomer lifestyle choices, discontinued decades ago, may still influence our health.  A report from the Center for Disease Control and Prevention  reveals  the “number of baby boomers dying from a ‘silent epidemic’ of hepatitis C infections is increasing so rapidly that federal officials are planning a new nationwide push for widespread testing.”

Many Boomers contracted the virus decades ago – through injection drugs or blood transfusions, before blood screening was improved, during the time of AIDS.

New medications are available for the suppression of the virus. The meds are not cheap and they do come with side effects, but may be more appealing than a liver transplant or the agony of treatment for liver cancer.

Watch for a recommendation later this year from the CDC for routine testing  for Hep C of people born between 1945 and 1965.

U.S. Catholic, a monthly publication discussing, reviewing, contemporary issues among Catholics, has commented frequently on the Vatican's Congregation for the Doctrine of Faith’s investigation of American women religious (sisters, nuns).

A current commentary on their weekly bulletin gives readers a chance to read the details of this process – as one writer states: at best an abuse of authority, at worst it looks like bullying.

And anyone who has had the privilege of knowing women religious understands that these communities are unique in their charisms, in their ministry. These communities are not franchises – like McDonalds - they are life-long blessings, blessings Catholics will protect at all costs.

(S-R archives photo)

What a week to live in Washington state!

The Seattle archbishop is trying to upend the same-sex marriage law signed by our (Catholic) governor in Washington state and now Rome has set forth an investigation into the work of thousands of American Roman Catholic sisters – an inquiry lead by? the Seattle archbishop.  

Why investigate the sisters? Because you know, they may not be Catholic enough in their (endless) works of compassion, healing, teaching, housing, ministering to those who present themselves in the moment as being poor, marginalized, disenfranchised from the society in which we live. What do these guys think Catholicism is??

 Me thinks thou doest protest too much, Holy See. Better look in the mirror, or in the rectory, but not the convent. Read what journalists Steve and Cokie Roberts have to say.  

People ask why I stay in a Roman Catholic Church that so fiercely opposes some of my basic beliefs. I stay because I belong to a parish where the priests are informed, compassionate and do not promote nonsense; a parish where we care for the poor in tangible, welcoming ways, a parish where all are welcome and treated equally – no matter their gender or who they love. I stay Catholic because I will not forfeit my faith community to distant others. I stay Catholic because I believe that the Catholic Church is the People of God, people who gather every Sunday, 10:30, to worship our God: a God who delights in the good works that we do, a God who welcomes everybody.

(S-R archives photo)

I always put the release date in my calendar for new books by my favorite writers. On Tuesday writer Anna Quindlen’s new book, Lots of Candles, Plenty of Cake, hit the stores.  I had to be at work before the book store opens (I have to have the paper version of a favorite author, no e-book will do), but I managed to have the book in my hands by 3:15 p.m.

 I sigh a lot when I read words I love…I have been sighing for 48 hours now. 

Quindlen’s memoir is a journal of a generation of women - and men - who thought we were so unique, but have been shaped and formed by the time zone we landed in: the Boomer years. And we share more viewpoints, cultural memories and mirrored reflections than we may care to admit. But admitting the truth doesn’t bother us so much these days. The truth is easy next to the energy those charades of yesteryear required. 

Quindlen takes the reader through the myths of young adulthood that can only be debunked through living into the truth. No sage guide will protect one from the necessary pain, laughter, loss and enlightenment that life offers. She reveals what many women know: pantyhose were invented by a sadist and an adult daughter’s glimpse into her mother’s life evokes empathy and admiration and a few wistful longings as well as sadness. 

Mostly, Quindlen reminds the reader that the journey is worth the price of loss, uncertainty, mistakes and missteps. We are harder on ourselves than we ever should have been. How could we be wise at 20? The system isn’t set up that way. Our certainties had not been tested yet. After surviving the decades, we are kinder, less judgmental beings – now with softened hearts, we can move easily into the last decades of this amazing, unpredictable journey.

(S-R archives photo)

You don’t think one creature can make a BIG difference in your day? Enjoy the power of this little puppy who stopped air traffic and complied  with the FAA once she was reunited with his owner.

(S-R archives photo)

At 8:30 this morning I opened the Tacoma paper to read a story about Referendum-74 which seeks to repeal the Marriage Equality Act by putting it on the November ballot. Signatures are needed to put the recently passed legislation to the people’s vote.  

Seattle Archbishop J. Peter Sartain has requested that parishes – all 180 of them in Western Washington – offer parishioners an opportunity to sign petitions in support of R-74. Some pastors are just saying “no,” to the archbishop’s request, including the priests at my parish.  

Our pastor consulted the parish staff and our elected parish council, who say they believe the presence of petitions would alienate some of our same-sex families. And as involved in social justice issues as we are at my church, I have never seen a petition for anything.  

At 10:30 I slid into my pew – next to two men, who are domestic partners. They sang and greeted me with handshakes at the sign of peace and we joined hands as we sang our way through the Our Father (Lord’s Prayer) right before we broke bread together.  

Dozens of teens were confirmed into the Catholic faith today at that Mass. They joined a church that claims to be universal (that is what “catholic” means). My parish doesn’t tell us who to love, when I worship there, I hear only how to love better. And today I read about that parish love in the paper. And so did all our same-sex families who worship with me.

(S-R archives photo)

Before you require a green burial as referenced in Becky’s post, see what you can do to save our planet from all our own foolishness.  

Checkout the website of activities you can do to make a difference and if you are in the Washington, D.C. area – enjoy the Earth Day Rally on the National Mall.

(S-R archives: A computer-generated graphic provided by NASA shows images of objects in Earth's orbit that are currently being tracked.

A report was released today criticizing the lives of American Catholic sisters. After reading the report, I think Jesus would want to have a conversation with the Vatican regarding their view that the members of the Leadership Conference of Women Religious (nuns) in the United States have serious doctrinal problems.  Really? “Serious doctrinal problems”? The Jesus I love never mentioned doctrine, except for those mandates of feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit the sick…

The report released is the summary of an investigation that began in 2008. I imagine that Jesus would not be happy with these men who cast stones at holy women.

The report stated that the “Leadership Conference of Women Religious, had challenged church teaching on homosexuality and the male-only priesthood, and promoted radical feminist themes incompatible with the Catholic faith.” Radical behavior like raising awareness of poverty and economic injustice.

When the sisters in our parish were slated to be interviewed for this investigation, we prayed for their well-being, we told them how meaningful their work with the poor is to all of us and how they are the body of Christ in our hurting world. And then our priest said to us: “I am glad there is an investigation into the work of these women, sisters in America. The investigation requires a great deal of paper work. Paper work that will be needed in 50 years when we seek documentation for their path to sainthood.”

We rose to our feet and applauded in love and support of these women whose voices cannot be silenced.

(S-R archives photo: Sister Rosalie Locati, director of mission and values for Providence Sacred Heart and Providence Holy Family hospitals.)

She is recognized in our state’s capitol building as one of our most important pioneers and today is her birthday…she was born April 16, 1823.

 Mother Joseph arrived in the Pacific Northwest on December 8, 1856, by boat, along with four other sisters from Montreal. Only two of the five spoke English – the other women spoke only French. They came at the request of the Catholic bishop. Once at Fort Vancouver the women cared for the sick, the aged and the poor; they worked to educate the young, especially Native Americans, and house the orphaned. They begged for funds to support their work. They traveled into hostile territory. Their courage, faith and vision inspire us still.

 Today, Mother Joseph’s legacy lives on…Providence Health and Services continues to care for those who present themselves for healthcare, for housing, for education. Providence serves the poor and vulnerable, the same mission that Mother Joseph had…just with more staff and much more sophisticated means.

Test your knowledge about Mother Joseph, take the quiz…

(Photo: The first Sisters of Providence in the West were, seated from left, Praxedes of Providence; Mother Joseph; Mary of the Precious Blood. Standing from left, Vincent de Paul; Blandine of the Holy Angels.)