Author Archives: ginny

Orange is the new prayer


Getting ready for my son’s 8 AM Saturday soccer game may seem like an odd context for a spiritual experience.  I can tell you that when I went to bed the night before and set the alarm for 6:15, I sure wasn’t expecting a prayerful, mindful morning.  I wasn’t expecting to feel anything other than nostalgia for the warm bed I’d just left or the usual pre-game rush of panic (“Is his uniform clean?Where the heck are the shinguards?”).

But as I stood at the kitchen counter around 6:50, yawning and cutting navel oranges into slices for my little player and his teammates, I had a moment’s mindfulness.  I have my senses to thank for it.

First of all, the scent: oh my, those oranges smelled like heaven. They smelled almost as good as the coffee my husband made, and that’s saying a lot. With something so fragrant right before me, my nose was awake before the rest of me was.

And once I’d sliced them all, I realized that there were a few more than could comfortably fit into my Tupperware.  I decided that was my cue to eat one.  So I did.

I rarely ever eat oranges anymore; I’m not sure why. But that taste showed me what I’d been missing.  The little triangular segments peeling off the rind and feeling all wonderfully pulpy and sweet in my mouth: it was positively marvelous.  I can’t remember when something tasted so good, or when a food made me so instantly happy.   It was a gratitude prayer of the most simple and delicious kind.

That’s why it’s good to have our antennae tuned to the spirituality of the senses.  If we do, then any moment — even the dreaded 8 AM Saturday game — can be a little bit of God, when you need it most.

P.S. If you’re interested in cultivating your own awareness of the senses in your prayer life, check out the “Experiencing God with Our Senses” retreat on  Starting Monday and continuing throughout October, you’ll find reflections and prayer prompts to help you taste and see (and smell, hear, and touch) God’s goodness.

Let there be peace on earth


…and let it begin with me.

That time I didn’t take my phone to the park

Smartphones are sort of like a bad relationship.  You are convinced you need them and that you can’t do without them, and all the while they are leaching the life out of you in ways you can’t really see until you are finally apart.

I’m being a little overdramatic, sure, and let me say up-front that I am not about to jettison my phone.  But I have started to be more clear-eyed lately about its role in my life, for good and for ill.  And I’ve realized that I’ve been giving it a little more attention than it deserves.

So a few weeks back, when we were riding bikes to the park with the boys, I decided to leave my phone at home.

I actually had to wrestle with myself a little before doing that.  “Whatifs” kept popping up in my mind like a game of Whack-a-mole, and I kept having to use logic to club them down.

What if there is an emergency?
Scott has his phone. You can use that.

What if I want to take a picture of something?
Short of a UFO landing on the playground, you’re not likely to see anything you will die without documenting.

What if I get bored and want to go online?
You are a mom; watch your kids.  You are a writer; look at the world around you.

And it was that logic that worked.  Because I realized that nothing on my phone could or should be as compelling as these precious moments of life, with these two precious boys who are growing up so fast that it scares me when I really stop to think about it.

So I left the phone at home, and I didn’t miss it.  I watched my kids and gazed at the trees and the sky and the flowers.  And what is arguably just as important, my kids saw me watching them and gazing at the world, not being distracted every few minutes but an update on a screen.   They saw a mom who enjoyed their antics, who basked in the sunshine.  They saw a mom who chose to be fully present in the moment, in the way that I hope they will be, too.

Totally worth it.

Announcing The Catholic Mom’s Prayer Companion


Bobblehead Pope Francis is as excited as I am.

Bobblehead Pope Francis is as excited as I am.

Life has been so busy this year  with Taste and See getting out there in the world that I haven’t mentioned anything about another, very exciting book project: The Catholic Mom’s Prayer Companion.  This fat little book with a gorgeous cover is the brainchild of editors Lisa Hendey and Sarah Reinhard, and I am honored to have been one of many women (and even a few men) who helped write it.

This is a daily devotions book that you can pick up and start anytime.   Each day has a short reflection (sometimes inspired by Scripture, sometimes by the life of a saint, sometimes by a holiday or a meaningful quotation), a prayer, and a way to integrate the ideas of the devotion into your own life.  Short and sweet!

When I got my copies last night, I tried to keep myself from reading days’ worth of devotions at once, and I failed miserably.  It’s just so fun to read the collective wisdom of so many wonderful writers, each with a unique voice but all united around the shared goal of helping moms feed their souls and nourish their faith.

So if you’re looking to establish that new routine now that the kiddos are back in school (or almost!), check out this book.  It’s a great one to read in those few minutes while you sip your morning coffee, or to have in your bag as you wait in the carpool line.


Why you should never, ever throw anything away

Downsizing is hot these days.  Just ask Marie Kondo, who is surely a millionaire a few times over.  And I like sorting through the things I don’t need and creating more space in my closets, drawers, and just generally in my life.  I’ve tried to do that over the past nine months, with some success.

But tidying up has its limitations.    If I had downsized too aggressively at any point in the past thirty years, I would not still have the utterly awesome Mickey Mouse Cookbook I had as a child.


I loved it when I was young and I kept it for sentimental reasons lo these many decades.  You know what?  I’m darn glad I did, because this summer, my own children rediscovered it and were utterly fascinated.

And so we embarked on a summertime project.  I decided to teach my boys a little bit more about how to cook, with the help of Mickey and the gang.

Over the summer, I’ve let the boys take turns picking recipes from the cookbook, and we’ve worked on making them together.  I should add that we’re not exactly talking about Julia Child here; the recipes are remarkably easy, some of them more about dumping in a pan than actually cooking, but it doesn’t matter.  The boys have loved the challenge, and whether it’s Big Bad Wolf’s Brownies or Cinderella’s Grilled Cheese Sandwiches, I’ve loved tasting their creations.


There was even one evening where I actually found myself sitting on the couch with a glass of Cabernet while someone else made dinner.  That someone else was my nine-year-old, who was making Chip n’ Dale’s Triple Decker Sandwiches with great concentration and skill.  I enjoyed the rare sensation of not being in the kitchen at 6 pm and  thought: Wow, I sure am glad I kept that cookbook.

So the moral of the story is to never ever throw anything away because you never know when it might be useful.  Just kidding, of course; I think the moral is to carefully weigh what you keep and what you give away.  Just because you have had something for over thirty years doesn’t mean you need to keep it forever, but it also doesn’t mean you need to get rid of it, either.

Listen to your gut, and if the book makes you smile after all these years, consider that it might make your own kids smile, too.