Half-birthdays for finches, corned beef, and that time I won an award (7 Quick Takes)

~1~

Our two baby finches celebrated their half-birthdays this week. We don’t know which one hatched first, but family lore says it was Bart (pictured here) who was born Sept. 18 and Lisa who arrived Sept. 19. This is based on nothing scientific at all, but it can’t be disproven.

We didn’t actually mark this milestone in any particular way, but I really do find it amazing that we have known these little tiny beings from their very beginnings. Especially in a family where none of us were there for anyone else’s birth, it seems really special that we have this shared experience.

Oh, how we love our finches.

~2~

Did you make pie for Pi Day?

I made one for us, one for my sister Treasa and her family (since I had a pan to return), and one for a friend who has been working way too hard lately.

I’ve never had anyone turn down a freshly baked apple pie.

Not yet, at least.

~3~

I have to tell you about the scariest thing that happened to me this week. It was about 9:30 a.m. on Saturday, and a man with a clipboard appeared at our door, knocking and knocking. I yelled, “Not interested,” and waved him off. But he reached for the handle of the storm door and tried to open it.

At that point I panicked. John wasn’t home, there’s a pandemic, and I wasn’t even dressed yet for the day—so I felt very vulnerable. I screamed at him to go away, and he finally left our porch. When he was a distance away, I opened the door and yelled, “What are you thinking?”

He said he was here to get a measurement for some flooring we have been looking to install. I went to call John to ask him whether this was legit, and just as I dialed, one of our boys ran into our breakfast bar, and his chin started bleeding.

John answered the phone to hear me panicking with one of his children crying in the background. It was great.

It turned out that the man’s visit was legit, but he hadn’t confirmed the time with John, so I sent him away. In the end, we decided to use another company. I don’t want anyone in my house during a pandemic, but I certainly don’t want someone who would try to open the door and come in while I am unmasked in my pajamas.

~4~

One of the only home-cooked meals I recall making this week was corned beef and cabbage in our crockpot.

Three out of four of us enjoyed it, especially since I managed to bake some Irish soda bread to go with it.

Last March, I couldn’t find caraway seeds anywhere, so my mother ordered an enormous supply.

I’m still working my way through them.

~5~

I made carrots to serve with the corned beef. Usually I serve baby carrots because they require no prep, and I can cook them as they are. A few weeks ago, John mentioned that his mother used to cut real carrots into strips to cook. And St. Patrick’s Day would have been his mom’s 86^th birthday.

So, I bought some regular carrots, peeled and sliced them, and cooked them. They might not have been as good as my mother-in-law’s, but John seemed to like them. Then we remembered how much Grammy loved having a St. Patrick’s Day birthday, and how much she loved visiting Ireland.

~6~

A few weeks ago, I found out I would be receiving an award at work—the AMDG Award, which is given to employees for going above and beyond their responsibilities and contributing to the campus community.

Receiving this award this year felt like this extraordinary honor, but I also felt that it almost wasn’t right to accept it.

So many people have worked so hard and made so many sacrifices through the pandemic.

~7~

But what would I say when they gave me this award? I decided that instead of talking about me, I could acknowledge all the amazing work happening across the University. And, because I would receive the award on the Feast of St. Joseph, I thought I would talk a little about St. Joseph, patron saint of workers and someone who is especially inspiring during this time in the pandemic.

Then I watched the Mass held on campus the same day, and the homily was all about St. Joseph, connecting his work to the work of Loyola employees. It was wonderful, but my remarks were too similar. I knew that wasn’t what I was supposed to say. I had to think of something else.

Suddenly I had an idea to deliver instead an email, read aloud, thanking and celebrating my colleagues. But it was less than an hour to the ceremony. I wrote my remarks out loud as I drove to campus to the event. Then, I sat in a pew in the chapel—the chapel where I was baptized, in fact—and typed up notes on my phone so I wouldn’t freeze up and have nothing ready when they called my name.

When I walked up to the podium, all my nerves vanished. I took my time, spoke directly to my friends and colleagues, accepted the award, and returned to my seat to see my phone lighting up with messages. I received some of the most thoughtful “replies” to my email.

I wasn’t sure I was going to write about this here, but I am really in awe of how the Holy Spirit showed up for me. So many times I have been tasked with writing a message that seemed difficult—or even impossible. And, I have called on the Holy Spirit and found words that I know I couldn’t have written on my own.

I shouldn’t be surprised by that, and I’m not. But it is a beautiful reminder that we are never really on our own.

Find more quick takes on Kelly’s blog, This Ain’t the Lyceum, and have a great weekend!

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