“Sometimes” The Holy Spirit Bosses Me Around

If you know me in person you know that I am a SPAZ who appears to have 2 speeds Hyper or Asleep. With this said I also have a hard time staying on track when I tell a story (so many squirrels dancing in my head trying to get their ideas out FAST) is all I can compare it to.

With this disclaimer I want to tell you about the times that the Holy Spirit bossed me around and continues to. Even in my rattled brain I am listening and do what I’m urged (because it’s not a voice per se, but more nudge or a feeling).

Usually it seems to be reaching out via a phone call to people I haven’t seen in a long time and giving them a very specific message. Often times I don’t remember what the message was after I’ve passed it along, but I know that the person who received it was helped and that’s all I needed to d, was deliver the message at that moment.

For example, an old high school friend found out her mother was dying from cancer, she was worried about taking time off from work to see her mom. I said

“Go and see your Mom NOW, she is NOT getting better. No matter what she’s telling you. Who cares about this job, you can get another one. Your Mom is the most important thing!”

It was so hard to tell her this but I knew her mom was trying to shelter her, but I also knew that if I didn’t speak bluntly she would miss that last farewell and forever berate herself for letting her “job” keep her from seeing her Mom.

Sadly her beautiful Mom did pass away within a few months, I wanted to wrong in the worst way.

Another friend I called out of the blue, mentioned that his father whom he was long estranged from was dying, but had told him I never want to see you again. I said

“You should go and make your peace no matter what he says. It will be your last chance and you will never regret saying good-bye”.

A week later he called and thanked me for my random advice (I totally forgot we had spoken until he reminded me). He said a check arrived in the mail that day with just the right amount to fill his tank to make the round trip to say good-bye. With my random call he knew that God wanted him to make the trip and make his peace.

Another friend, popped in my head because I wanted to discuss an idea for this blog.

She shared that she had been going through a terrible time in her personal life, marriage and work. She mentioned that long forgotten childhood abuse had been recently stirred up and was causing just HORRIFIC nightmares.

All of this was news to me, because none of this trouble appeared to be happening according to Facebook. Also this friend has an amazing faith that is a beacon for others.

So when I heard all these terrible things were bringing her world into crashing disarray, I knew that the Holy Spirit was telling me to explain to her that she was under spiritual attack and that Satan was waging war against her.

At the risk of sounding completely INSANE! But what else could it be, any person of faith could see it plain as day.

I sent her a prayer for the Archangel Michael to protect her in battle and promised to pray for her.


All weekend I rebuked the devil and told him to stay away from her. I petitioned the Archangel Michael to protect her in this battle and left the rest up to God.

By Tuesday everything seemed to have settled down and the prayers are working to turn things around.

I told her I didn’t really understand or mean to call initially but I knew straight off that it was the Holy Spirit, bossing me again.

A few years ago, I had to run and grab a dessert for the end of year picnic at school. The fastest route would take me past the local abortion clinic which I try to avoid at ALL costs.

I had the strangest feeling that God was thumping me on the head and saying “You have to go there today, RIGHT NOW. I will NOT take NO for an answer”.

Like Jonah in the Bible I was trying to do anything to avoid preaching in Nineveh(at the Abortion Clinic)

If you’re not familiar God tells Jonah to tell the people of Nineveh to REPENT or all will be LOST! Jonah jumps on a boat to get away from this task. He is flung overboard in a storm and  he gets eaten by a whale, but God saves him (after spending 3 days in a whales stomach, GROSS) he gets the message out and the people of Nineveh listen and are SAVED! Surprise! Surprise! Surprise!(Not surprised)

So with my young daughter who was 5 at the time, I parked and approached the Pro-Life ladies. One in particular I know on sight because she is out there nearly every single day.

Rain, Snow, Heat or Cold.This woman is a Warrior for the Unborn.

I often stop and give her a few dollars when I can to help with her gas and expenses because she’s in the trenches and I’m avoiding this fight in person.

On this day, only one single pro-choice/Abortion protestor was out counter protesting this group of Pro-Life grandma’s.

I CAN NOT tell how much I did NOT want to speak to this woman. I mean I would rather have taken a BEATING then approach this stranger with what I was about to tell her.

So I walked up to her and asked quietly if I could have a minute of her time. She looked at me suspiciously but acquiesced when she looked at my little girl.

I mean how vicious or crazy could I be with this precious girl at my side.

I held out my phone and said

“This is a photo of my baby Mia Paloma who I miscarried at 13 weeks. She had a little dimple in her chin just like her sister here. Because of my age I can’t seem to get pregnant again, so this was my last chance”

I can’t remember exactly what she said, it was something like “I’m sorry”.

I thanked her for her time and walked away, shaking and holding back my tears.

My daughter Sophia had already asked me what was wrong with all those babies in the pictures and told her a half truth that they had a terrible accident.

As we walked back to the car, the Pro-Life ladies stopped me asked what I had said. I retold my brief encounter and added “If I can just change one heart, my baby’s death will not have been in vain”

You see, that was the only way I could live through that miscarriage. I had to believe with all my heart that her life had purpose and that God was and would use me as He saw fit to take up this cause.

I share my story often because it’s such a taboo, no one tells you when you lose a baby that you can deliver it, receive a death certificate ( just ask for one) and have a Christian burial.

We were guided gently by our doctor,nurse’s and then by our amazing priest Father Tom.

Every time I think I can’t share this story, it’s too painful, or it’s to embarrassing I realize that God is always with me and He always gives me the strength to endure.

I continue to pray for God to use me as He choses and to always let me share my faith and story with LOVE. He takes care of the rest with the help of the Holy Spirit.

Praying for an End to Abortion,

Your friend,

Pilar The Papist Squirrel

The Archangel Michael






Missiles and False Alarms, What Would I Want My Children To Know

Recently a false alarm was sounded all over Hawaii causing a state-wide panic. For several minutes, the people of Hawaii thought that a nuclear missile was heading for their paradise.

I read an article by a mother who said she instantly texted her 2 daughters on the main land and told them

“Check the News. Is there a missile heading to Hawaii?I love you.No matter what happens get your degree!Have a good life, be successful!And take care of your sister”

Which made me cry of course because what a terrible fright! The thought that a missile was heading for my town would be such an awful thing I wonder how one ever chokes down that fear?

But it flooded my mind with the things I would want my children to know in the event of my sudden death. Just off the top of my head,

I LOVE you both.

You were BOTH my biggest accomplishments in my life.


Stay strong in your FAITH!

DEFEND your faith with ALL your heart.

Love each other, ALWAYS!

FALL in love.

PROTECT your sister and always watch out for each other.

One day you may be mom’s I know you WILL be amazing and better than I could have ever hoped to be.

I am so PROUD of both of you.

Take CHANCES, it’s ok to make mistakes that’s how we learn.

I PRAY you have friends in your lives like I have had the honor of knowing and loving.

Marriage is WORK but it’s worth it.


I love you!

Know that I will be praying for you and I love you for ALL eternity.

RESPECT your flag, your country, veterans, and those who protect and serve our country.

ONLY God loves you more than me.

Be kind, the world is ROUGH and being kind makes you a BETTER person.

NEVER chase after a man, he should chase after you, ALWAYS.

NEVER  date a married man, he belongs to his wife. You deserve a GREAT man.

Remember INTEGRITY is doing the right thing even when no one is looking.

Do you know how much I love you? I love you to the moon and back and to the sun and back and around every single star God ever made or ever will make. Forever and ever and ever, that’s how much I LOVE you!


WORK hard and do a job you love.

You are STRONGER than you think, because you have Jesus with you EVERY moment.

Stay HUMBLE, God has you right where he needs you to be.

STAND UP for whats right even when it’s not what everyone else is doing.

The Church is always RIGHT in its teachings, even when it may seem unfair.

Credit cards are only for EMERGENCIES! Pay with cash whenever possible.

SAVE money for your retirement.

Good MANNERS will take you far in life.

TEACH yourself how fix stuff around the house like Daddy did.

Never be afraid to SHARE  your faith with others! Let your light SHINE for Jesus!

Don’t believe everything you hear or read, do your own RESEARCH.

TRAVEL, see the world and try new things.

Remember the lowliest person you may meet was once someones CHILD and God loves them.

Live your life with the goal of becoming the SAINT God wants you to be.

The DEVIL is real and spiritual warfare is a constant threat to the world.

Believe in MIRACLES, God grants them every day.

Remember that Mary is your Mother in HEAVEN.

The Saints are hanging out waiting to PRAY for you all day long, ask them to for help!

Remember to PRAY FOR ME and ask your sister in heaven to pray for you.

Help other people and VOLUNTEER when you can, it feels good.

You will know how much I loved you when you have your OWN children.

Be a GOOD friend.

Eat HEALTHY and take care of your TEETH.

Don’t worry about other people’s OPINIONS, they don’t matter one bit.


Be MODEST, you can still dress sassy without putting all your body on display.

Never let a man hit you, belittle you or separate you from family or friends. These type of men will NEVER EVER change!

You do not need to be PERFECT, I still love you and so does Jesus.

Adopt shelter PETS, remember a pet is for life.

Pay your bills on time to maintain your GOOD credit.

Say you’re SORRY, forgive when you can. Don’t allow people to mistreat you.

Listen to that little voice in your head, it’s trying to keep you ALIVE.

Hollywood LIES, movies are make believe.

BE CAREFUL about what you watch, listen to and read. Ask yourself would I watch this with Father Tom. Trash in equals trash out.

You are special there is NO ONE in the world just like you.

If you marry, MARRY a Catholic that lives their faith daily. You will be each others guide to SALVATION.

Marry an optimist with a great sense of HUMOR, life is hard and this will help along the way.

PRAY the rosary.

NEVER let someone talk you out of your faith!

Even though you may be small you are FIERCE, God is with you always.

Adoption makes families too, be OPEN to life and what God puts in your heart.

I could go on and on, but I hope that this list  could be a guide to what I would share if I had to leave instructions.

So what started as a false alarm in Hawaii, has led to this roadmap I pray would help in the event that my girls need it when I am gone.

Mary and jesus

Your friend,

Pilar The Papist Squirrel

PS You both made me a better person by being your mommy.






Little House On The Prairie Fail!

Do you remember the days when you were young and single and ready to mingle? Remember getting ready to go run amok on New Year’s Eve and partying till the sun comes up?

Some of you are saying YES! The few who are saying “No can’t say that I do” (A.You may have been raised in a very sheltered Midwest town or B. You partied so hard these are just vague recollections).

I remember getting ready to go out on December 31,1999 like it was just last year! I also remember many more misadventures involving Tijuana, but we’re NOT gonna talk about that.

Cut to me this year 2017, my social calendar was BOOKED! You know when you hit that stage and your kids are big enough to take to a party and let them entertain themselves? We had friends inviting us to last-minute New Year’s Eve parties and whatnot. It was gonna be totally RAD! Like a full on weekend of partying, food and friends!

But NO, the dreaded flu my mother-in-law had failed to mention she had, until we arrived at the annual Christmas Day Forced Together Day (Monday) had taken its hideous hold of our family……UGH!

I saw it happen, when Sophia hugged and kissed grandma. After I had explicitly said DO NOT hug grandma ONLY grandpa.

Then I spent the rest of the evening debating whether to make the kid take a “Silk Wood” radioactive removal shower or just wash her face? Because after all this kid still sucks her fingers at bed time and we joke that her immune system is strong enough to outlast The Zombie Apocalypse!

I kept replaying the recent doctor visit in my head, “Are you sure you don’t want the flu shot this year?”

Me “No thank you, yes I’m sure”.

Next day Tuesday, house looks like a bomb has gone off, paper, boxes, gifts everywhere! Pretty much like the contents of a shark’s stomach.

Patient ZERO had struck, Sophia threw up later that day and ran a fever for 3 more days.


Wednesday, “I think I got THE EBOLA!” I managed to croak to anyone that would listen. Because of my sketchy medical history, I automatically think worst case scenario. Which typically involves me in the hospital with some kind of kidney stone or inflamed appendix and emergency surgery follow-up. DANG!

Suffice to say I NEVER and I mean NEVER want to drink orange PowerAid EVER again in my life!I was like a scene from the Exorcist, my abs got a full body work out.

Since my husband tends to “shut down” (he gets even MORE quite and stands stalk still) when I get sick, it became Isabella my oldest daughters responsibility to take care of me.

From my deathbed I begged for saltines, a cold cloth, fan ON & OFF, water and sympathy. All the while instructing her to wash her hands and wipe every single door knob, light switch and ALL surfaces with a Clorox Wipe!

Thursday I had Isabella send an S.O.S message to my best friend Kara to please send much-needed humanitarian aid to our Quarantined Island from HELL!

Smoke Signal

Saint Kara of Oakwood, promptly suited up a lá HAZMAT and delivered (to our door step) gourmet chicken noodle soup, ginger ale, saltines and a bag full of every type of TheraFlu product available over the counter.Then left skid marks tearing out of our driveway (just kidding).


Friday, I feel subhuman like an 18 wheeler has run me over, so that night’s party is a NO GO! At this point I’m hoping to be better for a party that I made my friend Michelle organize, and scheduled for Saturday night. Since everyone has paid $35 a person and wine is involved she may just kill me if I duck out.

Saturday morning things are turning around, dishes have piled sky-high (like the taxes on Tara), not to mention laundry.

But I had let Isabella spend the night with her friend and attend Friday nights party as my emissary. The girl earned a night away from Quarantine Island.

I’m saving all my strength at this point for dinner out and this painting party. I do a little laundry and get back in bed. The kids are going crazy because it’s a freezing, snow-covered wasteland and no one can play outside, so much bickering and fighting ensues.

After much yelling from me, a Pax Romana falls across the kingdom. At the time of this writing I had to send them each to their rooms, to get any peace and quite!

Saturday night we make it to the painting party. I have a great time even though I look like death warmed over on toast. But we made it, narrowly avoiding any black ice patches and frost bite (note to self, next time make a u-turn on the street, NOT in an ice rink parking lot on a steep grade). EEK!


Ok Sunday is in the home stretch and looks like everyone is well enough to go to mass the next day and still attend our neighbors New Year’s Eve soirée Greek style!

NOT so Fast.

Isabella has now contracted the deathly insidious flu and is now unable to keep any liquids down and is laying lethargically in my bed. OH NO! This poor kid who picks up my slack and nursed me back to life is SICK!

I text my regrets to my neighbor Maria and excuse us all from what was sure to be an AWESOME party. Did I mention they are Greek?

Oh well there’s always next year and I start to wash mountains of dishes (3 loads in the dishwasher to be precise) and load after load of laundry.

For our spectacular New Year’s Eve feast I make sausage and pancakes. Breakfast for Dinner it’s a thing.

Back to the laundry at hand. As I’m toiling away I realize as “unglamorous” as this seems it’s ok. It’s actually kind of peaceful and soothing to take care of my family while all the rest of the world is reveling.

I’m folding sheets and it occurs to me that this is my vocation and my  heart is joyful. For the first time EVER I realize this is what it must feel like to be a joyful servant of the Lord. Saint Mother Teresa said “Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.”

Here I am all grown up and my dreams have come true! I’m raising kids, folding laundry, scrubbing toilets and making art!

Monday,January 1,2018, we’re all on the mend and dishes are nearly all done. If you ever saw that movie “Signs’ by M.Knight Shyamalan, where the little girl leaves glasses of water all over the house (eventually this is what keeps the aliens at bay) then you have a sense of our house.

I decide it’s time to start cooking again, we can’t just live on toast. I start making 2 pots of chicken noodle soup. One for us and one for our neighbor who needs a meal.

Sophia wanders in complaining she’s hungry, so I whip up a grilled cheese on the griddle of my magical stove top. I am on a roll, why not bake a cake? I feel like an accomplished short order cook!

I dig out my lovely red Kitchen Aid mixer and whip up a cake from a box. I flour and grease the pans, pre-heat the oven. Spoon the mix into the pans, and plan to frost the cake once it cools.

Sometimes when I’m trapped in the house for the winter this kind of pioneer frenzy takes over (briefly) and I feel motivated to cook, bake, sew and clean. Then I get over it and binge watch TV.

The kids and I start playing cards, I get up to check the timer and clean up a bit. I go throw the “empty” egg carton away.

ARGHHHHHHHHHHH I’m screaming “I FORGOT TO PUT THE EGGS IN THE CAKE!” I fling open the oven door, NOPE. These are just gonna be flat weird little red velvet pancakes, instead.

See just when I feel all “Little House On The Prairie” style, this is the kinda of epic fails that happen to me.

This is when I sense God laughing, he laughs at me a lot. He laughs like I’m an “I Love Lucy” episode. But that’s ok since I know He loves me and He knows I’m a squirrel. So I’m cool with that.

Your “Pioneer Failure Friend” & “Ebola” flu patient,


The Papist Squirrel





Forced Family Fun & Strained Holidays

I think we can all agree that the holidays are fairly stressful. Maybe because we have this  idea of how it all SHOULD be and yet, in all our planning and prep we fall short?




If you are anything like me and grew up in some type of dysfunctional family, you try your hardest to make the family you have now, different and as “normal” as possible.

We all have some type of weirdness in our families. Sometimes you may think it’s just your family, but nope you’d be wrong. I say this a lot because it’s true. It seems to be a thread that runs through my blog.

Because I want you to know you’re not the ONLY one, in a sea of Pinterest worthy holiday scenes, struggling to create “normal”. I know I will NEVER have the Norman Rockwell picture of a family and that’s ok, that would be way too much work, and for the record I am a sloth.

For me I realize it each time I go to some event at school, so many families I know have close family near by. These grandparents, aunts, uncles and  cousins show up at the sporting events, school concerts, First Communions, etc. I love that about our school and community. But it points out in glaring contrast that our extended family is NOT close.

My mother recently drove through Ohio on her way Arizona after spending several months in Maine. Where she never once called to let me know she had arrived safely but that’s another story.

Suddenly out of the blue my Aunt called and said your mom is coming through town in 2-3 days call her. WHAT?! Wait why hasn’t she called me? Oh her phone is malfunctioning (again) this from a woman who has yet to set up her voice mail on a phone she’s had for years.

My mom is not old for the record she is only 67. Based on the friends I have in my Knitting Group this is NOT old. OK

In the end she skipped visiting her ONLY grandkids, because I would not let her dog stay at our home. To be fair she is always welcome but the dog is not and she knows this. Last time the dog stayed it chewed up the footboard of my daughter’s bed and my mom never even mentioned it. Like it *poof* never even happened. That and my only request was that the dog PLEASE not sleep in my daughters bed. #RagingAllergies but even this simple request was disregarded.

So my husband said the dog is NOT allowed in our home. He is a pretty easy-going guy, he doesn’t complain or put his foot down often, but when he does speak up I try to respect his wishes.

I found a wonderful kennel that my best friend uses but my mom REFUSED to kennel the dog. Choosing instead to skip seeing her ONLY (did I mention this) grandchildren.

I can take this kind of rude behavior, but I don’t let anyone treat my kids this way. As a parent it’s my job to protect them and teach them to set boundaries for themselves and others.

I realize I won’t always be around to “shelter” them and life is full of “hard knocks” but your own family, should be a haven and a place were you always feel loved, safe, welcome and cared for.

Tucked In

I’m not alone in this phenomenon I have other friends that refuse to let their children interact with the abusive, alcoholic, absent grandparents. This to me makes total and complete sense, but my mom isn’t like that, she is just incapable of growing up I guess?

I realized this last interaction that she is like a Land Mine in my life that drops in unannounced and reeks havoc on my life. For years I sheltered my children and wouldn’t tell them grandma was coming until we actually saw her face or knew she was up the road.

For a time she lived a mile down the road and the kids LOVED it. She said the cold here was too much for her and moved back to Arizona to care my elderly grandma and yet she spent most of last winter in a shack in Maine. Cold much?

She skipped a visit last Christmas to buy a dog instead. As in flew to Colorado to pick it up from the breeder and fly home rather than fly to Ohio to visit us.

Growing up, my mom and dad would make promises that were never kept. Especially my dad (he meant well I’m sure) but kids crave consistency, structure and rules.  My mother would say if you don’t expect anything from your dad you won’t be disappointed. I learned that she was right because she would do the same things, IOU’s for birthday gifts, not showing up on time when we expected her (being hours late), one year she invited me to Christmas at a friends in Temecula but gave me the vaguest directions.

I drove around for 2 hours (prior to cell phones) in the middle of the NO WHERE in such a rage, that when I finally did find her she just laughed it off. That’s her way you see to deny or deflect any criticism.

I didn’t realize these flaws until I had children of my own. Growing up my mom was my very best friend and I would have done anything for her.

She was my hero raising 2 kids as a single parent and being a police officer. She taught me many lessons about being self-sufficient, good manners, to look people in the eye and shake their hand with a firm grip, to love this country, to read, to clean, to negotiate with the utility companies when they wanted to shut off our power. Plus she always believed in me.

But things started to turn for us when she married her 3rd husband. No one in the family  liked him, he was from Germany (I’m sure he was an anomaly) where he left behind his wife and 3 children (why my mom let this HUGE character flaw slide I’ll never understand) and would complain to anyone that would listen how everything was better in Germany.

Consequently my mother and I didn’t speak for about 5 years. That is bad habit of my family to carry a grudge for so long. Stubborn Mules.

Eventually things turned so bad with this man that she divorced him, but not before he alienated her from the entire family.

When I had my own children I saw first hand what an enormous responsibility it is to raise kids. All the things I thought were “normal” or “quirks” growing up I realized were completely unacceptable behavior, poor moral choices and ridiculous behavior (like planning a trip when we were scheduled to move and leaving me to beg friends to help move our 2 bedroom apartment to a new rental house). Who does that to their kids?

I think it is common among most generations to strive to make each generation better than before. We want our kids to have the things we missed out on in our childhood. Like  providing more opportunities and to be better then our own parents if they were completely dysfunctional. This is what “normal” parents want.

I struggle with this because as a Catholic Christian, I want to honor my mother and father, I want to turn the other cheek, I want to forgive and be forgiven. But when is it too much? Where do we draw that line and refuse to submit ourselves and our children or spouses to this insanity? When do we need to share with our kids, why they don’t have a relationship with certain relatives?

Last year I received a devastating medical diagnosis regarding our family. My mother just brushed it off and said “I know everything will be fine” and NEVER not once brought it up again. Period the end, ostrich with its head in the sand.

This last episode was my tipping point and I had to tell my kids what was going on , why I was crying, why I was so angry and stressed out, because of my mom.

I had to explain to them that grandma is missing out on two awesome little kids who are such a joy to be around. They make me laugh, they drive me crazy, they show me what it means to be forgiven, they teach me about Gods love and I strive to live up to the awesome task of being their mama.

I kept this ugly secret from my children as long as I could but the damage was already done. They already disconnected. Out of sight out of mind for children. Children enjoy gifts but the time you spend with them is what they will always remember vividly. So I guess I can drop the charade.

But my heart hurts because these kids are my greatest accomplishment in my life outside my marriage. My mom once referred to them as her gift with purchase (if you ever worked in cosmetics you get that). My husbands parents are elderly (late 80’s) and live out of state but when they come into town they make an effort to see most of their 17 plus grandkids and 5 great grand children. So they make an effort but it’s not like my friend Bronne who tries to host a family dinner every Sunday. Or all my other Nana age friends who have weekly contact with their grandkids. Some even babysit their grandkids daily.

My oldest daughter said “Mom if you ever did this to me I would never speak to you again” meaning drive through town and not see her kids. I said “Honey, I want to live very close to you and your sister so I can see my grandkids (God willing) every single day!”


I can’t think of a more amazing way to spend my golden years. I want to be a help to my daughters and watch them raise their own families. My husband and I would like to travel, but I don’t want to ever be so far away that my grandkids don’t know who I am or how much I LOVE them!

So friends when you think everyone around you has it all figured out and their life is Pinterest Perfect, dig a little deeper and you will see we are all of us just treading water.

It is only with Gods Grace (plus my friends and family) that I have gotten this far in my life. Some days I’m everyone’s cheerleader but just beneath the surface I’m praying for constant intercession and help from all the Saints, Our Blessed Mother and God.

This Christmas season give yourself permission to relax, it’s ok if the cookies aren’t perfect, if  cards aren’t finished, just breath. Look around at your friends that are like family or your family that hasn’t pushed you over the edge and be grateful. Give yourself permission to avoid those people who cause you great sadness or stress at every turn.

This isn’t to say you have to hate them , not at all but if they cause you such distress that you are breaking out in hives and your family is miserable, just say “No thank you, we’re skipping “The Circus of Crazy” this year”and stay home with your little tribe of people who love you and encourage you.

I promise the world will not end.

Your “Epic Pinterest Fail” Friend,


Pilar The Papist Squirrel









Why I Believe In Miracles, Christmas and Otherwise

I think I can safely state that MOST people know both sides of their family. Unless of course you were adopted  or like me your parents divorced and you lost nearly all contact with one entire side of a family tree.

I am nearly 50 years old and I have blocked much of my childhood out. I remember bits and pieces but the huge volume of memories most people have I can’t access. I grew up hearing different stories about my dad’s family , but I didn’t have holidays and visits to reinforce these memory’s like most people do.

My parents divorce was messy like all divorce, but with the added component that my dad was from Mexico. So custody or visitation was not an option.

In fact attempted parental kidnapping was a serious issue for my family. The entire time I was in elementary school until middle school, I was NEVER allowed to walk home. My mother was terrified that my father would kidnap us (my brother and I) and she would never find us in Mexico.

One time when we lived in the City of Orange I remember my dad showing up with a car full of men, while my brother and I played outside. I screamed for my brother to run inside, I followed. Running through the garage, through the yard to our house, I locked all the doors and woke my mom up. I don’t remember what happened after this, but it was terrifying enough that I remember it.

Flash forward ( because I don’t feel up to sharing the messy details of the time in between then and now) suffice to say my life took many jagged turns. I fought God and faith ALL the way. I would say most of my adult life I was an agnostic who didn’t believe in Jesus or any organized religion for that matter.

In 2003 I met my husband through work over the phone. I worked in advertising and he was one of customers. In December 2004 I decided to take a complete leap of faith, selling all my furniture and packing my little Ford Explorer up with all my treasures and my cat.

The rest is a blur of blessings, from becoming U.S. citizen before we got married, to having our 2 daughters. In the words of Fernando Venezuela “Ohio has been berry berry good to me”.

Last year I asked my family for an DNA kit. My mother had told me her vague recollections about the Anaya side of my family. Things like how funny my dad was, how they once threw a party that lasted all night and guests just passed out on the floor. *That is my kinda of PARTY!

When the results came back I was SHOCKED to find out I was 87% European, so she was right the Anaya’s really were from Spain (read my other blog post about Dabbling in DNA).

I didn’t do much more with the information. But just last month I received an email from the Ancestry website, that said I had a message from a fellow member.


The email

Hi- I just did my DNA test and see that we’re first cousins. I was placed for adoption as an infant, and am searching for my biological father. I would love it if you could do some family investigating and see if you have an uncle that created a child with Marilyn C. while in his senior year of high school. He was probably living in Portland, Oregon, although I’m not positive that is where the conception occurred. I’m interested in knowing about your side of the family. Thank You- Leah S.

My mind was racing like Speed Racer (zoom) who could it be? Well in order to narrow the pool of suspects I had to know what year she was born, because my Grandpa Cason had been married twice before he married my Grandma Jane. So it could have been one of my Cason uncles. So I asked her for some more information (birthplace and year).

Then I took a leap of faith,

Dun dun dun…..

Hi Pilar! Thanks for writing me back! I was born in Portland in 1973. I have my bio-mom’s info from my birth certificate, but she doesn’t want contact. My old adoption agency won’t release his name, and it’s not on any court documents. All I know is his height, that he has olive skin, played the guitar, was Catholic, and was a senior in high school. Maybe your mom could shed some light on your dad’s siblings.

So right away I could rule out my brother (born 1970) my maternal grandpa Cason, my own father Alphonso who was already out of law school. This left me with 9 other Anaya siblings that could have moved to Oregon and married an American?

I texted my mom and she said that had to be my Aunt Estella

Hi Leah,

First can I just tell you I am overjoyed and so happy that you were adopted by a loving family! I was just talking to another school mom and we were discussing all the children (including her’s that are adopted) and adult parents (also adopted), sister-in-law and both her children, 3 neighbors on my street (all of us Catholic).
Which makes me wonder if it’s because we live our Pro-Life values we have so many beautiful families created by God through adoption.

So I hope this info helps your husband find some answers,
My dads name Alfonso Anaya (Flores)
Paternal Grandfather Salvador Anaya
Paternal Grandmother Maria de Jesus Flores

So in Mexico you get your mom’s maiden name as part of your full name
So my dad would be Alfonso Anaya Flores

When you look for my Aunt Estella check for her last name as Anaya Flores (maiden).
Let me know what you find, I’m so curious about my dad’s side of the family.

Not 72 hours later I get this message from who I now know is my 2nd COUSIN Leah, daughter of Roger(1st cousin), son of Estella(my Aunt). My family just grew exponentially!




(Random family I found on Google not my Tribe)

So Leah wrote back that not only had she found my Aunt Estelle (Leah’s paternal grandmother alive at 92 and living in Oregon) but she also found one of Rogers sisters Beverly (my cousin). All of this was thanks to the AMAZING sleuthing skills of Leah’s awesome husband Vince.

For this I have to thank Vince he did all the research and stayed up late many nights, digging through Ancestry records and gently prodding Leah to get her DNA checked. All he asks in return is a “Life time supply of carnitas” I think he could be my brother from another mother! #Carnitas #YumYum

You see Leah was adopted by a loving family (miracle) who wanted nothing more than to have a family of their own and couldn’t without adoption (this is another reason I am Pro-Life). As Leah’s story unfolded in these messages I realized that God had this plan all along because God NEVER makes a mistake, we do but God has a beautiful plan no matter what.

So Leah was adopted by a Mormon family, her biological mom is Mormon so this may have had some sway in her placement, but when Leah grew up she became a Spanish-speaking missionary in Texas (see the humor in her choosing that language coming from this family)? This is a brief part of her mission trip story she shared with me.

I was a Spanish-speaking missionary in Texas, and one of my best experiences was with a Catholic Priest. There is so little beauty in Texas, and we had stopped at this exquisite Catholic church by the side of the road out in the country. It was all white stucco in the Spanish style, with white arch ways and a walk way and flowering vines all-over. No one was around, and we just wanted to stand there and rest, but were worried because we were clearly missionaries from another church. We didn’t want to look like we were being disrespectful or proselytizing on the property. Sure enough, we’d only been there a minute before the Priest came out the door toward us. We started to apologize, but he interrupted us and said, “Sisters, you do good work. You’re welcome here anytime.” I’m crying now remembering this, which may sound silly, but to tired missionaries, his words of acceptance and confirmation meant so much.

Meanwhile she replied with this BOMBSHELL

Hi Pilar- I talked to your cousin Beverly (Estella’s 4th child) for a couple of hours tonight. She was 13 or 14 when I was born, and was able to tell me the whole story. She was wonderful to talk to, and now I know what I wanted to know. It’s quite the story. FYI, I was confused you and Ana (Daniel’s daughter) are actually my aunts. I think we’re close in age because Rodger was Estella’s oldest, and I was born when he was so young. The important thing I wanted to tell you is that as a teenager Beverly was witness to a heartbreaking situation when your dad hunted at the court-house for your address in San Fransisco and came to your apartment. Your grandma wouldn’t let him see you, and he was devastated. Beverly tells the story with much emotion. Maybe she can tell you more about why you didn’t get the relationship with your dad that you should have. She was an unusually precocious teenager to absorb all of these stories.


Wait WHAT?! You’re telling me you found my long-lost family and they want to talk to me? They even remember me! WHAT!? How can this even be true, but it is.

How do I even begin to thank these strangers who are now my family? How do you thank someone for helping you heal your broken heart? How could I have known that a few years ago when I decided I really needed to forgive my Dad (whom I assumed was deceased) for all the things that could never be undone? I had so many cracks and crevices in my heart, empty spots that I didn’t realize existed until I spoke to Beverly (my cousin).

You see I believe that I needed to start forgiving my dad because NOTHING was going to change the past or bring my dad back to me,NOTHING! So only when I could start letting go and praying for and the repose of his soul could this miracle come into my life by God’s great and powerful mercy! (Can I get an AMEN?)

Beverly called me on a Tuesday night and we talked for 6 hours! If you know me in real life you will understand this is totally normal but whats hilarious is that Beverly like me talks with her hands!

She shared so many great stories she had me laughing hysterically until my face hurt!I love when I meet people like me and we CLICK like a spark that turns into a raging BONFIRE!

Women w Coffee

Talking with Beverly and reconnecting with all these lost cousins on FB and WhatsAPP (an international texting app) has been like a balm on my wounded heart. I could have never guessed how healing this process would be for me.

One of the things she said was “Pilar I hope you’re not offended about what I am about to tell you” Me “Beverly NOTHING you could say would offend me I promise, I am just so excited to finally find you!”

She said “We were with your Dad when he searched the records at the court-house and he brought us to your house. He asked me to go up and ring the doorbell your grandma opened the door her face turned white (because she knew Beverly was an Anaya and my dad was close by) he came up behind Beverly and told my brother to grab the girl and he would grab the boy!”

Well Beverly’s brother said “No WAY! I don’t want to spend my life in stripes” (meaning prison) he knew even at 17 that kidnapping was a crime.

Beverly said they eventually came in and my mom and dad had a heated talk while she and her brothers played with my brother and I.

Beverly just reinforced what I knew and remembered. But she also shared is that my dad was everyone’s favorite Uncle/Tio. She said he was hilarious and a prankster, which I knew from my mom.

But she also shared that he went through a many years long depression when our family split up.

This made me sad and I realized that divorce hurts everyone involved.My life was no picnic growing up, but I also understood why my mother left. My friend Kara says all these things made me the strong woman I am today, she’s right.

Now I am reconnecting and texting with cousins and branches of my family from Washington State, Oregon, Mexico and all points in between! All of them with their own unique story to tell me and I can’t wait to hear each one.

Leah is planning a reunion with my Aunt Estella and Cousin Beverly for the day after Christmas 2017. I wish I could be there but God willing we can all meet up in the summer of 2018. Leah’s family has also grown exponentially.

Sadly Roger, Leah’s biological dad died in 1992 of a seizure disorder. Again Leah was raised by a loving family who wanted her and she has a wonderful family of her own now. But Roger had wanted to marry her mother and keep Leah, but because he would not convert to Mormonism he was forbidden from seeing Leah’s biological mom ever again.

This broke my heart, but I am honored to be part of Leah’s journey of discovery because she brought me a MIRACLE along the way!

Stay tuned for more on this unfolding tale of DNA and family.

I just want to say Thank You to Leah for graciously giving me permission to reprint excerpts of our correspondence for this post.

I want to wish you all a Very Merry Christmas and pray that you have miracles in your life as well.

Your Friend

Pilar The Papist Squirrel












Merit Badges For Grown Ups or Me Too Badges.

Girl Scout Uniforms

Have you ever met someone and they later become a good friend and in the course of sharing your life stories you realize you have so many things in common?

Isn’t that the best feeling, when you realize you aren’t alone?

This is where Girl Scout Badges would be so handy. Can you picture it…without all the small chat, you could instantly see that you have several life experiences in common.

For example how long do you know someone before it comes up in conversation that you  have had a miscarriage? Or you were raised by a single parent because your parents were divorced and your dad was an abusive alcoholic?

Wouldn’t it save so much time if you could wear all these life experiences on our sleeve or the outside of our purse?

I mean really wouldn’t it be easier if we got a badge for surviving the crap that life drags us through? We should have amazing little decals that we can iron onto our sashes or motorcycle jackets take your pick.

For things like:

  • Divorce
  • Suicide
  • Infidelity
  • Abuse
  • Screwed up childhood
  • Cancer
  • Loss of a child
  • Death of a Spouse
  • Death of a Parent
  • Veteran/PTSD
  • Teen Pregnancy
  • Addictions
  • Loneliness
  • Infertility
  • Anxiety/Depression/Mental Illness
  • Elderly Parents/Dementia
  • Adoption
  • Etc

Really the list is infinite, but you get the idea. I am certain that one of these things may have touched you or your family’s life at some point.

Recently I was having lunch with 2 separate friends who revealed to me independent of each other how throughly awful their childhoods had been. I was shocked and deeply saddened to hear that these smart, wonderful, kind friends had both gone through such horrible childhoods and yet come out alive.

To know these people I would have never guessed it was like this, I tend to think my childhood was fairly weird and not normal.But you never know what someones else has lived through or what their family has dealt with.

So wouldn’t it be easier in this life to wear our brokenness like a Merit Badge? I mean can you imagine how much easier it would be to cope sometimes if you knew you were NOT alone.

You could be in an elevator and say “I have the same type of cancer, how did you beat yours?” because the person beside you wore the badge.

We could see right away why some people seem prickly when you first meet them, who wouldn’t be if they had a tough upbringing or a  hard life? But you could break through those walls with a common thread or a Merit Badge System!

Even the most perfect looking people who some may think have it all, they have brokenness too. Don’t be fooled by their facade, this is part of our humanity, to have these struggles.

All of us are broken in some way, I may not walk with a cane or limp but I assure you my brokenness is in there, it’s tucked away. I realize when I share my story or my life with a select few I may help them to know YOU ARE NOT ALONE. I hear you, I lived it too. My heart hurts for you that you to have to go through this.

As a mom I pray that my kids never make the mistakes I did. I just want them to be happy and healthy and grow up knowing that they are special and they are loved. Most importantly that when their father and I are gone that God is still with them and loves them even more. No matter WHAT!

Most importantly Christ knows you and he loves you no matter how damaged you may think you are. He sees our invisible merit badges and he loves us, despite our flaws.

So who’s with me? Sashes or biker jackets with our “Life’s Merit Badges Movement”? I think I vote for the Biker Jacket, at this point I’ve earned it.

Your Broken & Imperfect Friend,

Pilar The Papist Squirrel







When Did Kids Sports Get So Gnarly or When Did We Become a Jerry Springer Parody?


I’m sure you’ve seen the news recently with parents at Little League games, sunshine, concessions, Jr playing 2nd base. When all of the sudden a brawl erupts and the police are called!

I just cannot fathom this behavior, don’t get me wrong other parents say I’m the LOUDEST cheerleader on any team, but I’m cheering not screaming at my kid or the Referee.

My daughter is in 6th grade and we’ve been participating in sports activities with her since she was 5. She plays spring and fall soccer, swim team, basketball and maybe volleyball this year. Plus she loves to run in races thanks Girls On The Run ( a great organization to encourage girls to be fit, confident, athletic and kind to each other).

I tell you this because I want to give you an idea of length and scope of families we’ve met over the years.

When she was young it was little local neighborhood leagues, then the YMCA, our swimming  pool Swim Team and CYO.

If you’re not familiar with CYO it stands for Catholic Youth Organization. They are all over the country in probably every Archdiocese. I believe the primary purpose is for Catholic schools and families of these parishes with children enrolled in public schools to have a league of their own to compete against.

More on this later……(dun dun dramatic pause)

So when we played for the YMCA we had a team mostly made up of kids from our school and a few brave *parent volunteers and other schools. Each school builds up their own team for whatever sport and the Y provides the referees (sometimes middle school kids or college students). You get cool little t-shirts and the kids get a trophy at the end of a season.

But mostly they get to make friendships, build skills, exercise and parents visit amongst themselves while we cheer our mini-me’s.

*Thank the Lord for parent volunteers, without whom many of the leagues would never exist and that would be a huge deficit.

One Saturday morning we all our watching our little 4th grader co-ed team play soccer when a dad erupts from the side lines beside me (from the other team) yelling at our coach over some suspected slight. My poor unsuspecting husband is sitting between us (minding his own business aka trying to tune me out)

I jumped up and told him to sit down and stop acting crazy, I guess I should mention he was HUGE over 6′ tall and burly, my husband is all of 5’3″ but built like the mini Hulk. He was shouting that his kid was out there and such and such is unfair. I said “Hey everyones kids is out there and here you are screaming at the coach in front of ALL our kids! So sit down and be quite. He sat down and my husband breathed a sigh of relief I’m sure.

Summation ” I guess we’re NOT playing for Jesus in this League” #disgusted #RabbleRouser #Naïve

FOR THE RECORD– I hate bullies! I was bullied as a kid and now as an adult I can not fight down the urge to defend other people, probably at my own peril sometimes. I’m not a vigilante but I have seen The Punisher several times. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!



Meanwhile all the parents (dads included thanked me quietly for shutting down the bully) I swear I don’t know what came over me, I just loathe bullies and I am a FIERCE mama bear when pushed.

During the course of my daughters sports I have seen some brutal nasty underhanded tripping, shoving, intentional elbowing to the sides, etc. During one such game one of our players (a tough no nonsense girl named Hannah) was knocked to the ground flat on her face and the ref didn’t call a time out. Hannah lay on the field and didn’t get up, while the the rest of the team kept running around and over her. So I shouted for the teams to “Take a knee!”

This means STOP play and wait till the injured player can be helped off the field and checked by the coach. All these little girls stopped dead and dropped to a knee. Hannah was taken off the field and the Ref yelled at them to only listen to his whistle to stop play (to borrow a line from Brittany Spears “Oops I did it again!”).

Consequently I had a long talk with my daughter about what I expected from her in her sporting career.

  1. Have fun it’s JUST a game.
  2. You’re playing for Jesus! For Pete’s sake these kids are all from other Catholic schools.What does it say when you beat the crap outta of the other kids just to win?
  3. Play fair NO MATTER what, I don’t care if you Win or Lose as long as you play with Good Sportsmanship.What’s the point of “Winning” if you can’t play with integrity.

Once my daughter was complaining about her coaches and her team, about how unfair everything seemed. I said “Look every single parent here is a volunteer, they are not making a  dime to coach you. Also you’re not getting paid to play either.They are taking time away from their families to teach you the love of this sport (fill in the blank).If you really love this sport it doesn’t matter if your team wins, but every minute you get on the field, court , etc is making YOU a better player, no matter the skills of the rest of your team”.

These are parents who are lawyers, surgeons, Stay at home mom’s with 3-5 kids, Airforce Colonels,Professionals, etc. who take time out of their busy schedules to coach my kids! I am humbled and blessed at their levels of commitment, because I’m not out there doing it.

Obviously I don’t take this entire kids sports to seriously thats because I am realistic about the fact that maybe only 1% of the population will actually become elite athletes or Olympians for that matter. That’s probably WON’T be one of my daughters, but as long as they have fun, get exercise and it builds their confidence thats a win in my book.

Also I don’t think I’m living out some FAILED sports dreams through my kids achievements. Although I do scream/cheer super loud at swim meets, when I see my girls  out swimming my best times in the backstroke.

Cut to this weekends first basketball game of the season, 4th quarter, 5th grade girls basketball game, our gym. A visiting parent had apparently been screaming at the refs throughout the entire game until at this point he JUMPED up and was screaming at the top of his lungs at the 6’5″ “built like a LineBacker referee. Telling the ref to learn the rules. Where upon the ref said “You need to learn the rules this is the last 3 minutes, etc.” The dad backed down, but later proceeded to talk loudly throughput the following teams prayer leading up to the beginning of the next game. #Disrespectful

Apparently this has become such a problem that the Archdiocese has hired a part-time parent to eject these unruly parents from games!

Seriously! We’re talking about a kids sporting event not Soccer hooligans in Europe rampaging a stadium.


Courtesy Saturday Night Live 

Another parent told me about a group of parents that nearly attacked another coach at a YMCA game until she screamed at the approaching mob that she was a City Prosecutor and would see them ALL arrested before they day was over, narrowly avoiding a brawl.

During our next game on Sunday (way out in the boondocks), few parents showed up for either side. But we all (maybe 25 in total) sat on the same side of the gym. I felt bad for the other team because our girls just kept scoring (final score 26-6) so I cheered for the other team too. So did my fellow team parents. We all know those long depressing rides home after a complete shut out.

You see we’re parents and we want to encourage ALL of these girls to do their best and have fun. NOT just our team but all of them.

As Catholic Christians we want to set examples for our children that we are showing Gods love for our neighbors.

I have to imagine that some of these parents are frantic for little Debbie or Tommy to get a full ride scholarship to college, but that does not excuse their abhorrent behavior.

Our kids are mirrors of our behavior, every sweet or nasty thing my kids do is a reflection of how I treat them or how they see me treating other people in our lives. Period.

So what kind of example do you want to see your children modeling?


Your friend,

Pilar The Papist Squirrel