Wendy Bell

It struck me after mass and after several parishioners came over to my pew with words of encouragement and love that I feel a great peace right now. Life is a tricky thing to navigate, particularly when it takes an unexpected turn, but you have to believe in the purpose. You have to have faith in the journey and look at any challenge or heartbreak as an opportunity. We are not expected to shrivel in a corner and feel sorry for ourselves. Life happens for a reason, and it's up to each of us to make that reason count.

So many of you have reached out to me here with stories of your own unexpected detours. You take comfort in my words as I tell you about finding joy through pain and meaning through meanness. Again. It's all part of the process. And if you never hurt or suffer or question or flounder... you can't reach the next rung or pull yourself into the next chapter. That's why the rear view mirror is so small and the windshield is so big. What's behind you is so much less important than the possibilities coming your way.

It's time for me to wake up my tribe. We're headed to Greensburg to have Sunday breakfast together at the Wagon Wheel restaurant. I suspect I'll make a lot of new friends there this morning. People who, like me, don't know what's coming down the road but are delighted to be driving down it. If you see us on the highway you'll know for sure who we are. My car's the one with the pink haired boy in the backseat who's singing to the radio and happily watching a new landscape unfold outside his window.

Do yourselves a favor and watch -- then SHARE -- this video. I am certainly no chef (as you'll soon experience)...

But all 5 of my boys say THIS is the best dinner I've ever made. And it cost me less than 20 bucks to feed them all.

You can tell me you love me later. :)

There are a lot of jealous people who frequent this page. Sometimes I delete their comments and ban them from view because there's enough awfulness on the news and in the papers every day. I don't want it here. But still... like my clover... these weeds find their way back in. I bet they'd be infuriated if they saw me smile as I read their silly and thoughtless comments. At least they're entertaining.

But there's one particularly shallow stalker out there who hides behind a cell phone and an anonymous Facebook page. This person takes stealthy pictures of parents holding a child in their arms or on their lap as they wait for their tables in local restaurants. Wow. How scandalous. What a complete and utter waste of this person's time.

There's a picture of me holding Bobby, I think it is, at Mad Mex in Shadyside. I've also had one of my five children on my lap at any given time at Dunnings, Buffalo Blues, Longue Vue Club, the Elbow Room, Social, Bettis Grill, Eleven, Soba and many other restaurants. I wish this person was following me around at those places, too... because my hair certainly looked better.

To the Anonymous Photo Taker... I'm sorry you're jealous. Perhaps you always wanted to have children of your own but for some reason could not. I understand, and I'm sorry. Maybe you had a rough childhood and find some kind of relief putting others in your spotlight. Understood. But do us all a favor and at least use a flash when you take our photos? Our kids are so much cuter in full light. And then when we see their darling little faces, full lips and soft curls on your Facebook page... perhaps we parents won't pity you quite so much.

The newest addition to our family is little Faolan. He turns two in the months ahead -- a full 5 years younger than his next oldest cousin and holy cow, do the 8 of them love him. As great as Grandma's predictably delicious Family Dinner is -- Faolan is what we all really want a piece of every Sunday. To see him change each week and to listen to his jibber jaw. To steal a kiss or a squeeze or a tickle and to soak in his laughter like bread sopping up Thanksgiving gravy.... It's so delicious you can taste it.

After last night's spread of burgers, fresh fruit and salads -- something happened outside during a heated game of Hide and Seek that stopped all the older cousins in their tracks. They stopped the game mid-stride and gathered together, crowded around my in-laws' living room window to peer inside. Little Faolon had toddled over to watch them play through the glass... and like moths to a flame they were drawn to his irresistible cheeks and full, drooly lips. Dad will have to clean the panes after their love fest, but the smudges and smears left behind on the glass are so beyond worth it.

Home is truly Where the Heart Is. It's where you're safe and loved. Accepted and forgiven. It's where you're understood the most and unfairly judged the least. It's where a little boy can grow up in a bubble of adoration. Where cousins learn to love one another.

This coming Sunday will be our 865th Family Dinner. I'm thinking maybe mom should take the night off. It would be nice to take her out so she can sit back and relax with no food on the grill and no worries in the kitchen. Just 4 kids. 3 daughters in law. 8 grandsons. One granddaughter. And more memories than the 18 of us can count.

You'd think by their hemming and hawing that I'd asked them to crawl through the sewer with their mouths open or pick up trash in a garbage dump. Sleeping until 2 and watching from the couch as your mom cuts the grass doesn't just seal the deal. It's the packing tape that closes it shut.

So boys... While you're complaining... I want you to imagine this. You've won a contest. And the contest comes with some rules.

Each morning, $86,400 is deposited into your private bank account. You have to spend every penny every day and aren't allowed to transfer the money into another account or give it to someone else. The bank opens each morning when you wake up and your banker puts another $86,400 into your account. He then takes what you haven't spent at the end of each day and can stop the daily deposits at any time - without warning - and close your account. Just like that.

What would you do? Would you buy anything and everything you ever wanted? Not only for yourself... but for the people you love and care for? Would you try to spend every penny every day - knowing all your money would be replenished the next morning?

Well....

We've all already won this prize -- except the money is actually TIME. Each morning we wake up to 86,400 seconds. The gift of life. When we go to sleep, whatever we haven't used up is forever lost with no guarantee of tomorrow. What we all do with those precious seconds matters.

So, Michael and Jack... It's time to get moving. $435 is a lot of money, sure. But remember that what you wake up to each morning is a gift. You can either look at your prize as WORK... Or as a blessing. And when you jump into that chilly lake in Conneaut, Ohio... I hope the cool water that laps over your silky brown skin and the warm sun that kisses your face sink in. It's a beautiful thing when a young man finally understands that his banker in life is really God.

I want you to meet DeSean Fountain. He just turned 14. He's a good looking, smart kid who dreams of growing up and playing football at the University of Pittsburgh and starting his own business. DeSean studies diligently at the Environmental Charter School and loves anything to do with math. He works hard and stays out of trouble... and is a sweet, kind boy with a million dollar smile.
And he's dead.
DeSean was the young boy shot last Friday in East Liberty as he walked down the street after school. He was a winner. The Kid Who Was Going To Make It. He was poised to beat the odds. But last night -- after 6 days in the ICU -- his mom took him off life support and let her baby go.
He never got to tell his mother goodbye. To kiss her nose or hold her hand. To thank her for raising him all alone and for believing in him. That bullet to the back of his head didn't give him time to take out the trash or make his bed that day or thank his older sister Summer for making dinner. Neighborhood thugs stole the Fountain's family album when they pulled out that gun and pulled the trigger. And for what?
Every night. Every newscast. There's a DeSean. A handsome face. A million dollar smile. The promise of endless possibilities. Gone. Lincoln Lemington. Homewood. East Liberty. Wilkinsburg. The Hill. Sheridan. Marshall Shadeland. Larimer. Do you even hear us tell you anymore? Do you hear the names? Do you imagine their faces? Do the streets even matter anymore?
We had a real chance in this country to bridge a divide. To bring people together. But the hate is stronger than ever. Instead of fathers -- too many kids have guns.
When will it end?
How many DeSeans will it take?
When is enough ENOUGH?
DeSean Fountain lives on in the many little bodies his organs have saved. But if you ever meet his mom... I'm sure she'll tell you she'd give anything she has to smell her boy's head or hold his hand or cook him breakfast or holler at him to flush the toilet.
Sleep gently, DeSean.
It wasn't your time.

Coloring dark brown hair is a multi-step situation. You have to go Billy Idol first and bleach the liver out of it -- then squeeze on the color without dripping dye all over their ears and forehead. And when it's all said and done... this is what you have. An elated child who now walks with an extra spring in his step as his embarrassed parents wonder how On Earth they could be so stupid. But hey. A promise is a promise.

HOWEVER... something went a little wrong this time. Instead of the mildly obnoxious soft pink we were expecting -- Ryan's dye went full blown magenta -- the kind that glows like Cartoon Network nuclear waste when the sun hits it and makes people blocks away squint to see what In THE Sam Hill is walking their way. Joe came in the door from work and his jaw dropped with a "Dear Lord." A moment later Jack dragged himself out of the bowels of our basement, saw Ryan sitting at the kitchen counter and said, "That is so stupid." And when oldest brother Mike sprinkled in these words of love and support -- "Do you know how dumb you look?" -- I watched as the spring in Ryan's step oozed from his skinny little self. He slumped his shoulders, exhaled, and dragged himself outside to be alone.

I followed him.

"No one likes my hair, Mom. They think I look stupid," he said.
"Do YOU like it?" I asked. "Are you happy we colored it?"
"Of course!" he beamed. "I Love it!"

Enough said.

And then last night as our swim team took on two neighboring clubs in a Tri-Meet, I watched something special happen from across the pool. All the kids clamored around Ryan and his hair -- asking him all about it with wide smiles on their faces. Remarkable, really, that kids can so effortlessly do what adults often cannot: Accept other people and their differences.

It's another beautiful day out there. Time to get out and enjoy it.
I don't know about you... but with 5 sons? I kind of dig a little pink.

My father and I didn't see eye to eye for years. Mostly because I was a jerk. I stole. I cheated. I lied. I pushed every boundary, held tightly to deep-rooted grudges and didn't truly understand the words I'm Sorry until my list of apologies grew so long I didn't know where to start. But my dad always forgave me and offered me another chance. And so that little girl with lopsided pigtails and missing front teeth who clumsily painted pre-school flowers on grey river rocks and proudly gifted them as Father's Day paperweights was able to grow up and learn from her mistakes. Dad taught me how to fail... and keep moving. More importantly -- he taught me how to turn my failures and missteps into opportunities.

I've watched my father do incredible things over the years. The list of people he's helped and the noble causes for which he's fought would read like a book. But the most precious connection I have with my dad is shared quietly and passionately in our blood. I have his compassion. And if I die tomorrow -- it is that feeling -- that genuine concern and love for others -- that I would be most proud to take to my grave.

Thanks for showing me the way, Dad. For reaching out to people who need a hand and for pulling them up. For opening your heart and always doing What's Right. For all the simple things you do that make the people around you better. For not being afraid to fail. For crying. For loving. For believing. For seeing the good in what's bad and for leaving this world better than you found it. For doing what needs to be done -- even when it's not popular. For speaking the truth when no one wants to hear it. For loving mom and never taking her for granted. For teaching me all off this when you didn't know I was looking.

Happy Father's Day, Pops. Thousands of miles can't stop what I feel for you today. Just do me one favor. When I see you next... hold me in your arms just one second longer... so the little girl who's all grown up now can say all of this right to your heart... without ever saying a word.

No matter where we are today or whatever surprises tomorrow may bring, there's something so irresistible about seeing where we've been. And when you're only 8... watching the slideshow story of your life unfold on a computer screen is so much more than a walk down memory lane. It's a warm and fuzzy blanket that wraps you up in family and love and adds a few more pieces to the puzzle of who you are and from where you came. So I grabbed my selfie stick (hence the awesome video quality here, sorry...) and my iPhone and hit record.

Every Video Thursday is a first take. I don't re-do things or run upstairs to put on lipstick or fix my hair. You get what you get. And it's always real. This is a very real snapshot of my family doing the simplest thing: Remembering. Trips and graduations. Birthdays and holidays. And the simple snapshots that capture us just being us with no agenda. Nothing to celebrate. No presents to open. Just the boys, Joe and me seizing a moment that we'll enjoy down the road in a Slideshow of Smiles.

I think I'll leave that old computer out and plugged in for a while. There's something special about seeing one of my sons walk by its ever-changing storybook and stop for a quick look. Before I know it, all five are standing there together. Touching shoulders and laughing. Being exactly what we created. Our Family.

Being relatively slight poses challenges with twins. I got seriously big in a hurry and -- despite Joe's constant nagging -- continued to mow the grass, mop the floors, weed the garden and put those little munchers in a pressure cooker they wanted out of 9 weeks early. And thanks to the magic of Magee -- I had Christopher first and Bobby 6 minutes later -- while Joe and my doctor casually chatted about where they got their scrubs. I remember Joe's face when Baby B turned out not to be Katie after all and the nervous look he had as he scanned my expression. I laughed out loud that there -- in that very moment -- I had become the mother of 5 sons. FIVE. Holy cow. How many women in the world get to say that.

That was 8 years ago today.

Bob and Chris are still sleeping as I write this... but soon I'll hear the creaking of the steps as they try to sneak downstairs and come up behind me. Bobby's bed head and bags under his eyes will be fierce and Christopher's undies will be askew as he holds his blanket up to his face with his thumb in his mouth. I see it every day and never get tired of it. Today is their birthday. And what a beautiful day it is.

My life would have been blessed with just one boy, but to be given 5 of these magical little monsters seems almost surreal. The laughter and noise, the fighting and poking and nagging and teasing... it's all part of our story. Raising them to be thoughtful men of service who love their neighbors and their country... that's full time work. But teaching the right values and leading by example is the most important job I'll ever have. I'll never get fired. In this line of work there are always new levels to be promoted to.

Happy Birthday to my twins. They've lost teeth and broken bones. They have scars on their knees, thick lashes and long, narrow feet. One has misty blue eyes, the other brown. And even when they're mad at each other they sit side by side, always touching. Always together. Two little boys who, along with their brothers, constantly remind me that all the twists and turns in life are what we make of them. And I, for one, really like the taste of lemonade.

I met Anthony two days ago at the corner of Penn and Braddock Avenues. I drive past him every day as he holds this sign asking for help.

Landscaping.
Windshield repairs.
Trucking.
Contracting.
Handyman work.
Highway paving.
You've offered these jobs.

Social services.
Church groups.
Catholic Charities and soup kitchens.
You've opened your doors.

Legal help.
Food.
Clothing.
A moving truck.
You've opened your hearts.

Good luck to all the Anthonys out there.
I'll think of you when I drive by.
I'll hope you pull yourselves up.
Heavens knows a lot of us want you to make it.