A little over a week ago, my family returned from an intense and wonderful ten day trip to New Mexico for my beautiful sister-in-law's wedding. Although we enjoyed the trip immensely, I only in the past couple of days feel slightly normal, energized, and back to the old routine, or something like a routine of course. The first few days, my exhaustion manifested itself in an ugly attitude of frustration with every part of parenting that is unpredictable, helplessness with my lot in life as a stay at home mom, and sometimes even a bitterness in my attitude towards God for not complying with the ways I thought He should be working in my life. Throughout these struggles, I needed to keep reminding myself: all is not wrong with the world! I am just tired. What a dark outlook fatigue can cause! Thankfully I was able to sleep a little extra, and I was able to approach the Lord in prayer with renewed energy and freshness of mind. God is so faithful.
One of the things I had been frustrated about was my request that God make me better, make me a holier person. To me that means God providing something like a 12 week program to holiness, a spiritual bootcamp if you will, some kind of lesson plans or directions that I just have to follow step by step in order to become St. Therese. I kept praying that God would give me something to say yes to, and then I waited for my holiness packet to come in the mail, or something like that. When it didn't, that combined with such tiredness and a drowsy spirit led me into some confusion and slight spiritual turmoil, or maybe a little worse than slight.
If you have read my blog before, you might understand that I have a love/hate relationship with A Mother's Rule by Holly Pierlot. It is a wonderful book about order and discipline and routine in such a way that our lives are able to be more contemplative and we are more easily able to invite God into every action. I have bitterly muttered under my breath on multiple occasions that Holly Pierlot must not be a real person, or a real mom at least, or else she at least had perfectly predictable babies who napped and nursed on schedule without fail. I am sure this is not true, but it is easier to blame someone I don't know for my life problems than to blame myself, who has not even been very diligent at my own mother's rule in the first place.
As I sat and prayed one afternoon this week, listening with agitation to my baby fuss after sleeping only a half hour and hoping he would go back to sleep, I felt like the Holy Spirit was finally revealing His request to me for a "yes." Though I had wanted something steady and planned and predictable to say yes to, my own version of do it yourself "become the perfect Catholic" set with planned prayer times and daily Masses and evening prayers that don't get interrupted, He was asking me to say yes immediately and always to the immediate, to every moment Christ presents me with in the best way possible. My son cried, too early in my opinion, and he sleeps in a way that makes me feel out of control. God was asking me to say yes to that, to say yes to being out of control! To say yes to letting go of control. To say yes to giving God control and to say yes to that daily manifestation of roadblocks in my simplest of plans. This is God's holiness program for me, saying yes to what He presents to me every day.
I am not saying that I should just go with the flow and not seek to grow in diligence and routine in a way that serves my family, just as the captain of a ship does not throw out the compass and map just because he has to move around an iceberg. My goal is to keep trying to build good habits of order, while still letting the Holy Spirit lead in all of the ways that He permits my circumstances to be what I planned and in all of the ways He permits them to be different from what I expected. It goes beyond not complaining into a repeated yes, yes, yes. It's funny as I write this, because it is so familiar, something I've already known and been convicted of over and over. Thankfully God is so patient with me and willing to convict me again and again by letting me hear Him in a new way.
Sunday, October 12, 2014
Thursday, August 21, 2014
What Iraq has to do with ME
Today and over the last several weeks, the Christians' situation in Iraq has been plaguing my heart. So many times I see a new article on facebook giving information and insight into the terrible happenings going on there, and I wonder how is it ok for me to sit and drink coffee with a good book for a moment during nap time? How can I celebrate the happy occasions here with food and parties? How can I laugh and enjoy life, when across the world, parents are throwing their children off of a mountain top because they believe the alternative is worse?
I am still not sure how to handle these questions, but I have come to a conclusion on some parts of it. These are our brothers and sisters. These are not people who have nothing to do with us. These are men and women and families who in the face of oppression bow before the cross, strive to love as Christ loved, carry the words of scripture on their lips, and seek the Lord's guidance for the way that they live, the way that they raise their families, and the way that they love their friends. In short, they have everything to do with us.
I don't think that we are called to depression because of what is happening over there, or because of what is happening to a part of our Church, a part of our living Body of Christ. I do think we are called to be struck by this. I think we should be shaken up. I think we should be disturbed, not in a way that drowns us in fear, but in a way that stirs us to action. What is God doing here with this situation? Shouldn't we all as Christians be asking God not why are you doing this to them--but why are you doing this to us? What do you have for me, the comfortable American sitting peacefully on the couch, watching my child play and look out the window at her relatively safe world? Jesus, what you are doing with them is not our concern. We must trust You. You are at work in their lives. You are at work in Your Church. You have not abandoned them. But me? How does this affect me?
We are so helpless in the physical sense, and because of this I am learning to pray, to intercede, to bear these people on my heart. I have nothing to give them but prayer. I have nothing to offer but the cold I have had all week, my daughter's short naps that drive me crazy, and a chaotic evening that leaves me doing dishes almost until bed time. My daily life has more meaning because through it, I am able to be conscious of prayer gifts that I can send to these suffering. The ordinary of my life becomes extraordinary, because its purpose is that much more powerful.
I am also struck with an old realization, made alive again. This is what Christianity means. We are seeing it again in our times. Once it meant being thrown into an arena with lions before a cheering crowd, now for some, it means abandoning homes and livelihoods and even life itself for the sake of the Gospel. I am shaken up, in a good way, because I need to ask myself would I do the same thing? What sacrifices am I willing to make for Jesus? To what limit would I serve Him? Are there ways to stretch myself, to say yes to Christ in a deeper more sacrificial way, that I am ignoring? They are witnessing to us to what lengths we are called. The faith they are being persecuted for is my faith.
Finally, I am encouraged, because I have been taught that the blood of the martyrs strengthens the church. Wouldn't you think we would be wiped out by now with all of the persecution we have undergone? How many martyrs and saints were the very executioners or soldiers taking part in the persecution of Christians? Hello, St. Paul! The Christian people is not weakened by what is happening. I am encouraged because they are not suffering in vain. How many saints are being added to Heaven and ready to pray for us? How much grace is there in their sacrifice? They are building up the body. I am not rejoicing in their suffering. My heart aches. I hope that this ends very soon. But I know that because of our belief in the Cross of Christ and the resurrection of the dead, the story does not end at the tip of the sword. It ends in the glory of Heaven.
My hope is that their suffering will not be in vain in their own lives or in mine. I want to grow in prayer. I want to grow in faith. I want to follow their example in whatever it means in my life. I want to let the graces pouring down from Heaven to affect me. I do not want this to just be a facebook article that I have to try to forget about so I can have a good day. This is my life. This is my faith.
Christ, please transform Your whole church through this, including me! Please deliver them, and please give them strength to say yes even when it is the most difficult!
I am still not sure how to handle these questions, but I have come to a conclusion on some parts of it. These are our brothers and sisters. These are not people who have nothing to do with us. These are men and women and families who in the face of oppression bow before the cross, strive to love as Christ loved, carry the words of scripture on their lips, and seek the Lord's guidance for the way that they live, the way that they raise their families, and the way that they love their friends. In short, they have everything to do with us.
I don't think that we are called to depression because of what is happening over there, or because of what is happening to a part of our Church, a part of our living Body of Christ. I do think we are called to be struck by this. I think we should be shaken up. I think we should be disturbed, not in a way that drowns us in fear, but in a way that stirs us to action. What is God doing here with this situation? Shouldn't we all as Christians be asking God not why are you doing this to them--but why are you doing this to us? What do you have for me, the comfortable American sitting peacefully on the couch, watching my child play and look out the window at her relatively safe world? Jesus, what you are doing with them is not our concern. We must trust You. You are at work in their lives. You are at work in Your Church. You have not abandoned them. But me? How does this affect me?
We are so helpless in the physical sense, and because of this I am learning to pray, to intercede, to bear these people on my heart. I have nothing to give them but prayer. I have nothing to offer but the cold I have had all week, my daughter's short naps that drive me crazy, and a chaotic evening that leaves me doing dishes almost until bed time. My daily life has more meaning because through it, I am able to be conscious of prayer gifts that I can send to these suffering. The ordinary of my life becomes extraordinary, because its purpose is that much more powerful.
I am also struck with an old realization, made alive again. This is what Christianity means. We are seeing it again in our times. Once it meant being thrown into an arena with lions before a cheering crowd, now for some, it means abandoning homes and livelihoods and even life itself for the sake of the Gospel. I am shaken up, in a good way, because I need to ask myself would I do the same thing? What sacrifices am I willing to make for Jesus? To what limit would I serve Him? Are there ways to stretch myself, to say yes to Christ in a deeper more sacrificial way, that I am ignoring? They are witnessing to us to what lengths we are called. The faith they are being persecuted for is my faith.
Finally, I am encouraged, because I have been taught that the blood of the martyrs strengthens the church. Wouldn't you think we would be wiped out by now with all of the persecution we have undergone? How many martyrs and saints were the very executioners or soldiers taking part in the persecution of Christians? Hello, St. Paul! The Christian people is not weakened by what is happening. I am encouraged because they are not suffering in vain. How many saints are being added to Heaven and ready to pray for us? How much grace is there in their sacrifice? They are building up the body. I am not rejoicing in their suffering. My heart aches. I hope that this ends very soon. But I know that because of our belief in the Cross of Christ and the resurrection of the dead, the story does not end at the tip of the sword. It ends in the glory of Heaven.
My hope is that their suffering will not be in vain in their own lives or in mine. I want to grow in prayer. I want to grow in faith. I want to follow their example in whatever it means in my life. I want to let the graces pouring down from Heaven to affect me. I do not want this to just be a facebook article that I have to try to forget about so I can have a good day. This is my life. This is my faith.
Christ, please transform Your whole church through this, including me! Please deliver them, and please give them strength to say yes even when it is the most difficult!
Friday, August 15, 2014
Mary our Mother
The feast of the Assumption... Death, where is your sting? Sin, where is your victory?
I have never quite understood why to celebrate this day. I know that makes me sound like a complete pagan, but it has never struck my heart as anything very important. I absolutely love the feast of the Annunciation. Mary says yes and Christ is conceived in her. For the first time ever, the Eternal God is physically present on this earth. God becomes a little tumble of cells at the mercy of His mother's body to keep Him alive and to cherish Him. And then we are invited to encounter this living God, not only spiritually, but physically as well. The mysteries of the Annunciation bring so much joy and wonder to my heart.
Other times, the great feast days of the Church are, sad to say, an excuse for me to eat more or to break a fast. St. Joseph's feast day in Lent is exciting because it is just that, a feast day. But as being a parent often challenges me to be more conscious about my behavior, dreaming of raising a good Catholic family on which these feast days are significant for more reasons than that we absolutely have to go to Mass or... what a great reason to run down the street and get Chipotle--my dreams also include relaying to my children why we are celebrating in the first place. What is taking place? Why rejoice in such a particular way today, this day that Mary assumed into Heaven? What does that have to do with us?
This morning in prayer I ended up surfing the internet for reflections on this special day, and was struck by words of Pope John Paul II saying that Mary leads the way for us into Heaven. She shows us the power of Christ's triumph. She is the first victim of God's mercy, she who was protected from even sinning in the first place, and who is first in line to experience His glory. God shows us in her what will be for us. This is good news!
I still am hungry for more knowledge about this day and for a deeper encounter with Mary and Jesus in these mysteries, but I want to share one other comforting reflection. I am probably not the only mother who often is gripped with anxiety over harm coming to my children. Of all of these things I attempt to surrender to God and His providence, the lives of my children are the most difficult. I find myself returning again and again to this breach in my relationship with Christ, because I can't seem to bring myself to trust Him with this. Lately I have had an image that brings me closer to peace when I am swamped by these fears, and it is also significant to this feast day of Our Lady. When Agnes gets hurt, she is hurt for but a moment, and I hold her in my arms until she is ok again. My love for her is what she desires the most when she has to go through pain. If I have this much love for my child, and if she is so consoled by me, so imperfect a mother, how much more, when death takes her, will Mary, the most perfect of mothers, and perfect in love, be able to hold her, to comfort her, to bring her rejoicing into beautiful Heaven. How much confidence I can have in our Mother to care for my child if I am absent?
Granted this latter reflection is probably not the one I will share with my little children around the feast day dinner table, but I will have more to share with them about death's failure to triumph, about our mother who waits for us in Heaven, about our own resurrection, and about Christ, who is the ultimate Prize, and so completely available to us always.
I have never quite understood why to celebrate this day. I know that makes me sound like a complete pagan, but it has never struck my heart as anything very important. I absolutely love the feast of the Annunciation. Mary says yes and Christ is conceived in her. For the first time ever, the Eternal God is physically present on this earth. God becomes a little tumble of cells at the mercy of His mother's body to keep Him alive and to cherish Him. And then we are invited to encounter this living God, not only spiritually, but physically as well. The mysteries of the Annunciation bring so much joy and wonder to my heart.
Other times, the great feast days of the Church are, sad to say, an excuse for me to eat more or to break a fast. St. Joseph's feast day in Lent is exciting because it is just that, a feast day. But as being a parent often challenges me to be more conscious about my behavior, dreaming of raising a good Catholic family on which these feast days are significant for more reasons than that we absolutely have to go to Mass or... what a great reason to run down the street and get Chipotle--my dreams also include relaying to my children why we are celebrating in the first place. What is taking place? Why rejoice in such a particular way today, this day that Mary assumed into Heaven? What does that have to do with us?
This morning in prayer I ended up surfing the internet for reflections on this special day, and was struck by words of Pope John Paul II saying that Mary leads the way for us into Heaven. She shows us the power of Christ's triumph. She is the first victim of God's mercy, she who was protected from even sinning in the first place, and who is first in line to experience His glory. God shows us in her what will be for us. This is good news!
I still am hungry for more knowledge about this day and for a deeper encounter with Mary and Jesus in these mysteries, but I want to share one other comforting reflection. I am probably not the only mother who often is gripped with anxiety over harm coming to my children. Of all of these things I attempt to surrender to God and His providence, the lives of my children are the most difficult. I find myself returning again and again to this breach in my relationship with Christ, because I can't seem to bring myself to trust Him with this. Lately I have had an image that brings me closer to peace when I am swamped by these fears, and it is also significant to this feast day of Our Lady. When Agnes gets hurt, she is hurt for but a moment, and I hold her in my arms until she is ok again. My love for her is what she desires the most when she has to go through pain. If I have this much love for my child, and if she is so consoled by me, so imperfect a mother, how much more, when death takes her, will Mary, the most perfect of mothers, and perfect in love, be able to hold her, to comfort her, to bring her rejoicing into beautiful Heaven. How much confidence I can have in our Mother to care for my child if I am absent?
Granted this latter reflection is probably not the one I will share with my little children around the feast day dinner table, but I will have more to share with them about death's failure to triumph, about our mother who waits for us in Heaven, about our own resurrection, and about Christ, who is the ultimate Prize, and so completely available to us always.
Thursday, August 14, 2014
I sing because I'm happy... I sing because I'm free...
I used to think I knew what it meant to be Christian. Being a Christian meant doing all of the right things. In high school, it meant obeying my parents, not lying, and not partying. In college, it meant pouring myself into my studies and into serving in the Catholic college outreach program in which I was heavily involved, and now as a wife and mother it means oh so many things! It means praying every day. It means going to daily Mass unless I have a good excuse (which is like everyday...). It means keeping the house clean all of the time. It means never having too many dishes undone. It means a perfect meal and clean kitchen when my husband walks in the door. It means packing my husband's lunch every day. It means being loving all of the time. What else does it mean? What else do I have to do to make myself feel good? And when I don't do all of these things (I don't. Only like half of them), then aren't I not as good of a woman as Sally Joe down the street? Can I really think that I had a successful day if my husband came home to a messy house? So my heart is heavily burdened so often because to me, being a Christan means being perfect. And I'm not.
Knowledge of the mind and knowledge of the heart are so different. I know that I am God's daughter. I know that my husband is more disturbed by my unhappiness and insecurity than by the inconvenience of stepping over toys to get to the kitchen. I know that my worth does not depend on what I have accomplished, but somehow, my heart misses these important truths and I continue to dig myself into holes of despair that take begging Clayton for more reassurance, hours of alone time, and eating ice-cream to get myself out of. That is not what Christianity is supposed to be, and that is not God's call for my life. Absolutely not.
Throughout my two and a half years of marriage, it seems as though God is chipping away at the blinding pride that held me up for so long, as long as I was doing the right thing. Now as a wife and mother, that pride continues to shrivel. Domesticity does not come naturally to me, and I sometimes want to scream at God for putting me in a position to fail. When I, as a philosophy and English major, am good at other things, like contemplating the meaning of the universe or writing about what Steinbeck was saying in The Grapes of Wrath, I wonder why can't I just do that? (I am not saying I'd rather do that than take care of my family! I am only saying it would make me feel good about myself!). God has brought me low, and it seems like I am understanding, finally, at least beginning to understand, what it really means to be a Christian. The head knowledge of salvation is working its way more deeply into my heart.
I don't think that being a Christian means doing all of the right things. I think we do the right things because we are Christian. Being a Christian means freedom. I have recently had Audrey Assad's words "I sing because I'm happy. I sing because I'm free" in my head and on my tongue often throughout the day. I sing because I'm happy. I sing because I'm free. Christ has set us free. Our worth and our happiness do not come from having it together. Of course we need to do our best with the vocation He has called us to, but that's it. God has me here, in this day, in this hour, with all of the tasks and habits I have done well and all that I need to grow in. His mercy is here. His freedom is now. All I have to do is get up off this comfy chair, sing, rejoice, and fold the laundry, and vacuum, and take care of the baby, and get lunch ready, and then do the dishes, and... rejoice!
Knowledge of the mind and knowledge of the heart are so different. I know that I am God's daughter. I know that my husband is more disturbed by my unhappiness and insecurity than by the inconvenience of stepping over toys to get to the kitchen. I know that my worth does not depend on what I have accomplished, but somehow, my heart misses these important truths and I continue to dig myself into holes of despair that take begging Clayton for more reassurance, hours of alone time, and eating ice-cream to get myself out of. That is not what Christianity is supposed to be, and that is not God's call for my life. Absolutely not.
Throughout my two and a half years of marriage, it seems as though God is chipping away at the blinding pride that held me up for so long, as long as I was doing the right thing. Now as a wife and mother, that pride continues to shrivel. Domesticity does not come naturally to me, and I sometimes want to scream at God for putting me in a position to fail. When I, as a philosophy and English major, am good at other things, like contemplating the meaning of the universe or writing about what Steinbeck was saying in The Grapes of Wrath, I wonder why can't I just do that? (I am not saying I'd rather do that than take care of my family! I am only saying it would make me feel good about myself!). God has brought me low, and it seems like I am understanding, finally, at least beginning to understand, what it really means to be a Christian. The head knowledge of salvation is working its way more deeply into my heart.
I don't think that being a Christian means doing all of the right things. I think we do the right things because we are Christian. Being a Christian means freedom. I have recently had Audrey Assad's words "I sing because I'm happy. I sing because I'm free" in my head and on my tongue often throughout the day. I sing because I'm happy. I sing because I'm free. Christ has set us free. Our worth and our happiness do not come from having it together. Of course we need to do our best with the vocation He has called us to, but that's it. God has me here, in this day, in this hour, with all of the tasks and habits I have done well and all that I need to grow in. His mercy is here. His freedom is now. All I have to do is get up off this comfy chair, sing, rejoice, and fold the laundry, and vacuum, and take care of the baby, and get lunch ready, and then do the dishes, and... rejoice!
Monday, July 14, 2014
Trust
My husband keeps reminding me how many days it has been since I have written a blog post, to which I have politely ignored him, not knowing how to explain why I haven't written. So much has been happening to me in the past week and a half, not so much outward circumstances, though we had my precious son's baptism, family to visit, a holiday to spend, and then just plain old life--but internally, God has been doing something new and different, teaching me old news in new ways, and I feel like I am finally beginning to understand what He has been trying to tell me for years. I guess you could sum it all up in two words: "Trust Jesus."
The most significant change has been my meditation and obedience, or at least increase in obedience, to Philipians 4:6: "Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, make your requests known to God." My last post was about a day in which I basically didn't do this. I spiraled out of control until I was left angry with God for abandoning me. The next day was different. I don't remember why exactly such a change overcame me, besides the Holy Spirit of course, but why I responded to Him differently. Instead of letting the anxiety of ordinary situations have control over me, I brought each situation to the Lord. The day did not go better, but I went better through my day. Since then I have been experiencing so many new graces for surrender.
My life is not full of huge challenges, and my trials are not always obvious to an onlooker, but I believe that that is often why I tend to gloss over so many Bible verses. Oh of course, bring your petitions to God. Help us to be safe. Help us to have enough money. Help me get through pregnancy and mothering a tiny baby... All of the big things. What about the small things that drive me crazy every day? The questions that I ask myself and do not know how to handle? I have been irritated countless times with Agnes waking up too early, and I respond so negatively, because I don't know why and I wonder and I am afraid that she will keep doing that. Bring that to the Lord. God, give me the grace for less alone time--help me to trust that Agnes will get the sleep that she needs, and I will get the restoration I need that did not happen with that short nap break. Clayton is helping someone with something again, at a time when our time together has been limited? Of course I am happy for him to be serving. God, I trust that You will provide the unity in our relationship that I thought needed to come from that hour.
I am in no way Joyful Jill now where everyone can see that I clearly have given God control in my life and have no more anxieties, but I am in the process of becoming more fully who God intends, everyday offering Him my fears and failures and weaknesses and disappointments. I feel like I am understanding more fully what it means to be saved by God and to live in His mercy. I am so far from complete surrender, but how good those moments of trust and surrender have been!
The most significant change has been my meditation and obedience, or at least increase in obedience, to Philipians 4:6: "Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, make your requests known to God." My last post was about a day in which I basically didn't do this. I spiraled out of control until I was left angry with God for abandoning me. The next day was different. I don't remember why exactly such a change overcame me, besides the Holy Spirit of course, but why I responded to Him differently. Instead of letting the anxiety of ordinary situations have control over me, I brought each situation to the Lord. The day did not go better, but I went better through my day. Since then I have been experiencing so many new graces for surrender.
My life is not full of huge challenges, and my trials are not always obvious to an onlooker, but I believe that that is often why I tend to gloss over so many Bible verses. Oh of course, bring your petitions to God. Help us to be safe. Help us to have enough money. Help me get through pregnancy and mothering a tiny baby... All of the big things. What about the small things that drive me crazy every day? The questions that I ask myself and do not know how to handle? I have been irritated countless times with Agnes waking up too early, and I respond so negatively, because I don't know why and I wonder and I am afraid that she will keep doing that. Bring that to the Lord. God, give me the grace for less alone time--help me to trust that Agnes will get the sleep that she needs, and I will get the restoration I need that did not happen with that short nap break. Clayton is helping someone with something again, at a time when our time together has been limited? Of course I am happy for him to be serving. God, I trust that You will provide the unity in our relationship that I thought needed to come from that hour.
I am in no way Joyful Jill now where everyone can see that I clearly have given God control in my life and have no more anxieties, but I am in the process of becoming more fully who God intends, everyday offering Him my fears and failures and weaknesses and disappointments. I feel like I am understanding more fully what it means to be saved by God and to live in His mercy. I am so far from complete surrender, but how good those moments of trust and surrender have been!
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
Hanging on
I wanted to write today about how great God is, how wonderful His works, about the thunderstorm I watched outside with my husband last night, about the power of music to lift our hearts to Him, and about the Creator of sunsets, but that is not what is on my heart today. God is good, but today is one of those days you could call a faith survival day, a day that I can be relieved that I made it through without giving up on God, though I could not hear Him through my two children screaming through a traffic jam and my anxieties drowning out His voice.
The day has gone terribly wrong, and short of a tragedy, it has been one of the most difficult days, a day that at no moment I felt equipped to handle. I woke an hour and a half late and finally headed for a previously planned trip to the zoo with friends with no prayer, no exercise, and no breakfast. I broke an eating out fast as we stopped at Mcdonald's and I gave my daughter a hash brown, a nutritious breakfast of potatoes and oily fats that are probably illegal in most countries. The way home from the zoo, to put it concisely, was full of kicking, screaming, crying, traffic, and hunger. When I had finally gotten Edmund fed and Agnes in bed, Edmund began his habit of needing constant attention and the use of at least one of my hands, a habit which I thought he had broken (maybe only when Clayton is home!).
I do not feel so hopeful (in spite of a wonderful break as Edmund gave a brief cooing and smiling session) but there is so much to be thankful for. These are the days when faith has meaning, a day like Holy Saturday, when any follower of Christ has to wonder what can God possibly be up to? It is a day that I don't have to understand why when at my complete whit's end, I sit down to nurse, finally a moment of quiet, and my phone alarm starts going off across the room. None of these things are a big deal when put in perspective, but putting things in perspective sometimes requires to be outside of the complete immersion in chaos and inconvenience. When "God provides" seems to mean God provides another situation to provoke me, all I can do is continue to pray and wait it out. I know God will see me through these small daily difficulties that seem too great for me to handle.
"A patient man need stand firm but for a time, then contentment comes back to him." Sirach something
The day has gone terribly wrong, and short of a tragedy, it has been one of the most difficult days, a day that at no moment I felt equipped to handle. I woke an hour and a half late and finally headed for a previously planned trip to the zoo with friends with no prayer, no exercise, and no breakfast. I broke an eating out fast as we stopped at Mcdonald's and I gave my daughter a hash brown, a nutritious breakfast of potatoes and oily fats that are probably illegal in most countries. The way home from the zoo, to put it concisely, was full of kicking, screaming, crying, traffic, and hunger. When I had finally gotten Edmund fed and Agnes in bed, Edmund began his habit of needing constant attention and the use of at least one of my hands, a habit which I thought he had broken (maybe only when Clayton is home!).
I do not feel so hopeful (in spite of a wonderful break as Edmund gave a brief cooing and smiling session) but there is so much to be thankful for. These are the days when faith has meaning, a day like Holy Saturday, when any follower of Christ has to wonder what can God possibly be up to? It is a day that I don't have to understand why when at my complete whit's end, I sit down to nurse, finally a moment of quiet, and my phone alarm starts going off across the room. None of these things are a big deal when put in perspective, but putting things in perspective sometimes requires to be outside of the complete immersion in chaos and inconvenience. When "God provides" seems to mean God provides another situation to provoke me, all I can do is continue to pray and wait it out. I know God will see me through these small daily difficulties that seem too great for me to handle.
"A patient man need stand firm but for a time, then contentment comes back to him." Sirach something
Monday, June 30, 2014
Desire
I have lost some of the enthusiasm that drove me to create an entire, new prayer schedule, and also somewhat more of a daily routine. I worked on it over the weekend, talked to my husband about it last night, and launched the project, or at least the rough draft of it, today. Even before the day began, as I spoke with my husband last night, I experienced some inner trepidation and questioning... why am I doing this again? What actually needs to change? Aren't we already doing ok? Aren't I? Why do I want to make more sacrifices or commitments?
Of course I might look back and tweak my goals a bit, or I might toss out the new prayer routine altogether if it is not good for our family, but for now, the reason I came up with it, was because I thought that it would be good, and I cannot let it go until I have seen whether or not it is--and, I cannot see whether or not it is good until I practice it faithfully to see what it brings.
I didn't start this new challenge because I am feeling so much love for God and so much hunger for Him that I wanted desperately to be allowed to pray more. Far from it. God and I have been wrestling, like Jacob and the angel, for several weeks now, throughout late night feedings, late night awakenings of the baby that aren't even feedings, and many moments of a crying baby throughout the day where I feel at a loss with what even to do. Even before the baby, I cannot say that I had been having any urges to fall on my knees in prayerful adoration or to lift my hands to my Maker.
So often I do not even feel desire for God, but I am convinced with all of my heart that He is desirable. He is the Maker of all that is good. He is my Provider and Sustainer. I have experienced His help and joy in my life. I know that we are made for Him, and that we find our complete happiness in Him. I believe all of this. St. Thomas Aquinas wrote a miraculous summary of theology. Who understood God and His mysteries better than this holy genius? He had a prayerful experience with God, as Jesus told him that he had written well of Him and asked him what he would have for his reward. Now I can think of a lot of things that I would want as a reward if Jesus asked me... but St. Thomas wanted only one thing: "Only Thyself, Lord." Who is this God he desired so ardently? I want to know. I want to know Him more, and not only what I have already experienced of Him.
My mom was telling me a story of St. Therese that I had heard previously, but still appreciated hearing again. One of St. Therese's older sisters was giving away a basket of her old things to Therese and another sister. The other sister picked carefully through the basket to pick out a couple of objects. Therese did not pick through it, but grabbed the entire contents and said that she wanted it all. This was the same spirit with which she pursued Christ and allowed herself to receive all that He had to give her. I want all. I hope for all. I do not want to miss all of the plans and good gifts that my Father has to give me.
Even if my heart does not feel aflame, I know that its deepest thirst and most desperate hope is for Christ, and not just for a little bit or for me to be a little bit given to Him, but for me to be completely consumed by Him and for me to receive Him completely. This isn't going to happen with fireworks and boom bands playing but with simple and faithful obedience.
Of course I might look back and tweak my goals a bit, or I might toss out the new prayer routine altogether if it is not good for our family, but for now, the reason I came up with it, was because I thought that it would be good, and I cannot let it go until I have seen whether or not it is--and, I cannot see whether or not it is good until I practice it faithfully to see what it brings.
I didn't start this new challenge because I am feeling so much love for God and so much hunger for Him that I wanted desperately to be allowed to pray more. Far from it. God and I have been wrestling, like Jacob and the angel, for several weeks now, throughout late night feedings, late night awakenings of the baby that aren't even feedings, and many moments of a crying baby throughout the day where I feel at a loss with what even to do. Even before the baby, I cannot say that I had been having any urges to fall on my knees in prayerful adoration or to lift my hands to my Maker.
So often I do not even feel desire for God, but I am convinced with all of my heart that He is desirable. He is the Maker of all that is good. He is my Provider and Sustainer. I have experienced His help and joy in my life. I know that we are made for Him, and that we find our complete happiness in Him. I believe all of this. St. Thomas Aquinas wrote a miraculous summary of theology. Who understood God and His mysteries better than this holy genius? He had a prayerful experience with God, as Jesus told him that he had written well of Him and asked him what he would have for his reward. Now I can think of a lot of things that I would want as a reward if Jesus asked me... but St. Thomas wanted only one thing: "Only Thyself, Lord." Who is this God he desired so ardently? I want to know. I want to know Him more, and not only what I have already experienced of Him.
My mom was telling me a story of St. Therese that I had heard previously, but still appreciated hearing again. One of St. Therese's older sisters was giving away a basket of her old things to Therese and another sister. The other sister picked carefully through the basket to pick out a couple of objects. Therese did not pick through it, but grabbed the entire contents and said that she wanted it all. This was the same spirit with which she pursued Christ and allowed herself to receive all that He had to give her. I want all. I hope for all. I do not want to miss all of the plans and good gifts that my Father has to give me.
Even if my heart does not feel aflame, I know that its deepest thirst and most desperate hope is for Christ, and not just for a little bit or for me to be a little bit given to Him, but for me to be completely consumed by Him and for me to receive Him completely. This isn't going to happen with fireworks and boom bands playing but with simple and faithful obedience.
Saturday, June 28, 2014
I Can... Will I?
Yesterday I could not take my eyes off my little baby boy rocking away in his swing, fast asleep--his perfect little nose, his floppy cheeks, the peaceful look on his face with his eyes tight shut. So much beauty I can hardly take it in. My heart can hardly hold so much love. And then I thought of God, and how we are made in His image and likeness. If this is His image, I was thinking, how great must our God be!
As I have been reading and reflecting on the book A Mother's Rule, I have been skeptical about the amount of time she devotes to prayer and scripture study. I can hardly believe that that could fit into a mother's schedule, especially a mother with more kids than me and who homeschools. At first I doubted that it was possible, but then I became afraid, afraid that God might be calling me to make more sacrifices in order to invest more time into my relationship with Him.
I have become accustomed to excuses, as a mother. A priest told me in confession not to feel bad for being late to Mass because I had a baby. I often felt faint during pregnancy or was physically unable to kneel during Mass. My prayer is constantly interrupted by a child. As moms, we know that our lives do not look like nun in a convent, and sometimes a half hour of quiet prayer is an elusive pastime or a rare luxury. We have so many reasons to not be able to hear everything said at Mass or to find that we have had difficulty entering into prayer, mind and heart, for months. I often long to express all of my feelings of inadequacy to a sister in Christ with the hope that she will tell me it is ok... that it is to be expected that I would not be accomplishing more. However, this book seems to do the exact opposite, not in anyway to discourage a mother who is seeking to live out her faith and to lead her family in holiness, but to challenge her to make decisions and to grow in diligence so that she actually can do more and have more peace in her relationship with the Lord.
Instead of a pat on the back and a keep doing what you are doing, I am seeing more and more that often the lack of order in my day is not just due to dirty diapers and unpredictable risings from naps. So much is due to my own lack of self-discipline, the little decisions that I make to lay in bed for twenty more poor quality minutes of sleep after a morning nurse instead of jump starting the day, or of trying to do more than I know is possible in an allotted amount of time and then paying for it with rushing Agnes to bed way too late or leaving my husband with dirty dishes as I go off to nurse or go somewhere for the evening. I can do better if I want to do better, but it means that I will have to grow in self-knowledge and self-control.
For some reason, my daughter is up from her nap after 30 minutes and is not going back to sleep, so I am cutting this off without finishing to practice what I am talking about!! Self-control and first things first!
As I have been reading and reflecting on the book A Mother's Rule, I have been skeptical about the amount of time she devotes to prayer and scripture study. I can hardly believe that that could fit into a mother's schedule, especially a mother with more kids than me and who homeschools. At first I doubted that it was possible, but then I became afraid, afraid that God might be calling me to make more sacrifices in order to invest more time into my relationship with Him.
I have become accustomed to excuses, as a mother. A priest told me in confession not to feel bad for being late to Mass because I had a baby. I often felt faint during pregnancy or was physically unable to kneel during Mass. My prayer is constantly interrupted by a child. As moms, we know that our lives do not look like nun in a convent, and sometimes a half hour of quiet prayer is an elusive pastime or a rare luxury. We have so many reasons to not be able to hear everything said at Mass or to find that we have had difficulty entering into prayer, mind and heart, for months. I often long to express all of my feelings of inadequacy to a sister in Christ with the hope that she will tell me it is ok... that it is to be expected that I would not be accomplishing more. However, this book seems to do the exact opposite, not in anyway to discourage a mother who is seeking to live out her faith and to lead her family in holiness, but to challenge her to make decisions and to grow in diligence so that she actually can do more and have more peace in her relationship with the Lord.
Instead of a pat on the back and a keep doing what you are doing, I am seeing more and more that often the lack of order in my day is not just due to dirty diapers and unpredictable risings from naps. So much is due to my own lack of self-discipline, the little decisions that I make to lay in bed for twenty more poor quality minutes of sleep after a morning nurse instead of jump starting the day, or of trying to do more than I know is possible in an allotted amount of time and then paying for it with rushing Agnes to bed way too late or leaving my husband with dirty dishes as I go off to nurse or go somewhere for the evening. I can do better if I want to do better, but it means that I will have to grow in self-knowledge and self-control.
For some reason, my daughter is up from her nap after 30 minutes and is not going back to sleep, so I am cutting this off without finishing to practice what I am talking about!! Self-control and first things first!
Friday, June 27, 2014
Christ my Strength
Yesterday my husband and I sat down for our "weekly" husband and wife meeting, and he asked how I was doing. It was the wrong part of the day. I was tired and hungry, and Edmund was crying and wouldn't even nurse. I could barely think past my own grumpy attitude and I was feeling hopeless about ever being able to have a peaceful routine with such an unpredictable baby. I told him I wasn't writing the blog anymore (to which he quickly and rightly replied I was too emotional to make a decision at the moment), and I spouted off my ugly feelings about how God must not want me to succeed, and that by me reading a book about order and feeling drawn to it, He was just dangling something in front of me that I could not have. Basically, I lost it. After I ate a granola bar and Clayton got Edmund to sleep, I remembered that I love my life and God and that God is good.
I am so weak, and moments like three o'clock in the afternoon when it is almost time for Agnes to wake up, I feel desperate for a nap, Edmund has not given me a break, and my to do list has only a couple of checks next to it, that I often slip into despair and resentment--despairing feelings of how the world is crashing down and resentment towards whomever I can find to resent, myself if I can't think of anyone else! It never is the end of the world and God never really has stopped caring about me, and He is not out to get me. My lack of joy in these moments is not due to anyone else's or my own failures, or even due to Edmund's erratic schedule. My lack of joy is due to my lack of God and my too much of self.
Ironically, I become discouraged that God is not helping me to succeed, when really, I want to succeed so that I can be a holy woman. If I do not do it for God, then what is the point? And if He does not give me relief in certain areas, He is either trying to teach me something through it, or I am not doing my part. I believe that deep down, I don't really always want to do good things for God. I want to do good things for myself. I want to do good so that I can feel good about myself and so that I can feel like others have a reason to admire me. Even confronting this does not automatically make my priorities fall into place. I need Christ, and I need Christ even in order to recognize that I need Him. I need Him to rub mud in my eyes and to open them.
I recently read a different translation to a popular Bible verse: "I have the strength for everything through Him who empowers me." -Phil. 4:13 This wording struck me. I have the strength for everything. I have the strength for the big and the mundane, the expected and not expected, the desired and the undesired. I have the strength for it all. IF Christ empowers me. If I do not have Christ, the One Who gives me strength, than I do not have the strength for everything. I do not even have strength at all. I cannot succeed, and even were I able, my success would have no purpose. Christ is the answer, above all, to all of my striving and wanting and hoping in my daily life. I can only pray not only that He would increase in me, but that my thirst for Him would increase, would become a fire burning in my bones, driving me only towards Him who is my allotted portion and my cup. (Psalm 16:5)
I am so weak, and moments like three o'clock in the afternoon when it is almost time for Agnes to wake up, I feel desperate for a nap, Edmund has not given me a break, and my to do list has only a couple of checks next to it, that I often slip into despair and resentment--despairing feelings of how the world is crashing down and resentment towards whomever I can find to resent, myself if I can't think of anyone else! It never is the end of the world and God never really has stopped caring about me, and He is not out to get me. My lack of joy in these moments is not due to anyone else's or my own failures, or even due to Edmund's erratic schedule. My lack of joy is due to my lack of God and my too much of self.
Ironically, I become discouraged that God is not helping me to succeed, when really, I want to succeed so that I can be a holy woman. If I do not do it for God, then what is the point? And if He does not give me relief in certain areas, He is either trying to teach me something through it, or I am not doing my part. I believe that deep down, I don't really always want to do good things for God. I want to do good things for myself. I want to do good so that I can feel good about myself and so that I can feel like others have a reason to admire me. Even confronting this does not automatically make my priorities fall into place. I need Christ, and I need Christ even in order to recognize that I need Him. I need Him to rub mud in my eyes and to open them.
I recently read a different translation to a popular Bible verse: "I have the strength for everything through Him who empowers me." -Phil. 4:13 This wording struck me. I have the strength for everything. I have the strength for the big and the mundane, the expected and not expected, the desired and the undesired. I have the strength for it all. IF Christ empowers me. If I do not have Christ, the One Who gives me strength, than I do not have the strength for everything. I do not even have strength at all. I cannot succeed, and even were I able, my success would have no purpose. Christ is the answer, above all, to all of my striving and wanting and hoping in my daily life. I can only pray not only that He would increase in me, but that my thirst for Him would increase, would become a fire burning in my bones, driving me only towards Him who is my allotted portion and my cup. (Psalm 16:5)
Thursday, June 26, 2014
Jumping in
Last night I was feeling excited and anxious about trying to incorporate the Mother's Rule into my own life, a more disciplined schedule that would ensure that my time maintained a healthy balance of my top priorities and responsibilities in a way that would glorify and honor God--excited, because I had hope that my life could improve with this and the fruits that would come of it, and anxious, because of fear that I could not possibly turn the unpredictable feedings and sleepings of my infant and the constantly changing schedule of my husband into some sort of routine.
I unloaded all of my feelings about this book on my husband last night, afraid that he would discourage me from trying it, not because he wouldn't think it was good, but because I recently convinced him that we should take a temporary fast from eating out to save money and grow in self-control, that we should always do dishes and clean up immediately as part of the job, and that we should put more effort into eating more wholesome foods, all within a matter of a couple of weeks. Could I really throw something else at him when we were already putting effort into so many areas? It is interesting because I have often learned and seen that sometimes people should work on one habit at a time and grow in that one area, but in this book, she changed so much so quickly. She said that it went so well on DAY ONE. I know that she must have spent a lot of time in improving the schedule and growing in faithfulness and diligence to it, but sometimes it does seem that jumping into more ordered living (not that it will be perfect right away) takes a leap of action that can't always happen gradually. Or maybe that is just how it works for some people. If I wake up early enough to pray and eat breakfast before my daughter is up, but the rest of my day just sort of happens, I still arrive at 11 o'clock discouraged because it doesn't feel that different.
So I told my husband everything and I found him answering my objections and encouraging me to do what I can to imitate this woman in my own way. He even said that he was also inspired. We have not ironed out a plan, but we want to begin to today. However, we did spend a few minutes planning what we would do today so that we could maximize our family time on his last free day before working 3 twelves at the hospital. Somehow by nine we had both prayed and exercised and the kids were both ready for the day. That might not seem like a big deal since he was home to help, but somehow on his days off I find myself more distracted and purposeless rather than efficient and productive.
It has been so fun to grow in these little ways with my husband. Last evening at nine-thirty I was becoming so frustrated that our baby was eating precious minutes of Clayton and my evening together by fussing inconsolably. We had also been irritated by two huge flies enjoying the air conditioning of our apartment and no fly swatter. Eventually I got Edmund to sleep and was ready for the tea that Clayton had prepared for me probably a half hour before. I hadn't noticed that the flies had stopped buzzing until I saw Clayton's face puckered up in a laugh. "Is there a fly in there?" I asked. "No, there are two flies in there." We laughed and got sucked into amazon and youtube trying to learn more about eating healthy. Before bed, I realized that in spite of the distractions and less than ideal relaxing evening with my husband, we had enjoyed our time together, and grown a little more in love, after all.
I unloaded all of my feelings about this book on my husband last night, afraid that he would discourage me from trying it, not because he wouldn't think it was good, but because I recently convinced him that we should take a temporary fast from eating out to save money and grow in self-control, that we should always do dishes and clean up immediately as part of the job, and that we should put more effort into eating more wholesome foods, all within a matter of a couple of weeks. Could I really throw something else at him when we were already putting effort into so many areas? It is interesting because I have often learned and seen that sometimes people should work on one habit at a time and grow in that one area, but in this book, she changed so much so quickly. She said that it went so well on DAY ONE. I know that she must have spent a lot of time in improving the schedule and growing in faithfulness and diligence to it, but sometimes it does seem that jumping into more ordered living (not that it will be perfect right away) takes a leap of action that can't always happen gradually. Or maybe that is just how it works for some people. If I wake up early enough to pray and eat breakfast before my daughter is up, but the rest of my day just sort of happens, I still arrive at 11 o'clock discouraged because it doesn't feel that different.
So I told my husband everything and I found him answering my objections and encouraging me to do what I can to imitate this woman in my own way. He even said that he was also inspired. We have not ironed out a plan, but we want to begin to today. However, we did spend a few minutes planning what we would do today so that we could maximize our family time on his last free day before working 3 twelves at the hospital. Somehow by nine we had both prayed and exercised and the kids were both ready for the day. That might not seem like a big deal since he was home to help, but somehow on his days off I find myself more distracted and purposeless rather than efficient and productive.
It has been so fun to grow in these little ways with my husband. Last evening at nine-thirty I was becoming so frustrated that our baby was eating precious minutes of Clayton and my evening together by fussing inconsolably. We had also been irritated by two huge flies enjoying the air conditioning of our apartment and no fly swatter. Eventually I got Edmund to sleep and was ready for the tea that Clayton had prepared for me probably a half hour before. I hadn't noticed that the flies had stopped buzzing until I saw Clayton's face puckered up in a laugh. "Is there a fly in there?" I asked. "No, there are two flies in there." We laughed and got sucked into amazon and youtube trying to learn more about eating healthy. Before bed, I realized that in spite of the distractions and less than ideal relaxing evening with my husband, we had enjoyed our time together, and grown a little more in love, after all.
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
Holiness, Tears, and Toilet Water
Last night I began to read A Mother's Rule of Life. I was forewarned that she has older children, so to keep in mind that her life might look a little different from mine, and I might not always relate to the same issues. Still, I decided to see what it was about and if it could help me to better live out my vocation as a mother.
As I began to read, she talked about a time when she was ready to give up because she had hit bottom. I thought I can relate to that. She said a few things to her husband that were worse than what I have ever said, and the way she described her house made me feel pretty good about mine. If she was that low, then however she solves her problems in this book will certainly help me. She describes a conversion experience with her ordinary living and daily schedule, and how Christ led her to develop a rule of life, a routine to prioritize her time and be committed daily and hourly to the most important responsibilities, and to do this all not as a religious would acquire holiness, but as a religious wife and mother. It sounded so good, and though I had not yet read her actual routine, I was ready to start the next day with more purpose and to be more intentional about my time. I wrote down a rough schedule of how to accomplish my duties for the next day, even knocking off some originally planned chores that didn't seem realistic to accomplish. I set my alarm rather than planning on waiting to be dragged out of bed by the cries of my children, and I went to bed with high hopes.
My baby Edmund woke up about a half hour later, then about one or two hours later, then about one or two hours later, then about one or two hours later, then about one or two hours later... you get the idea. I also was up with him during a couple of these awakenings for longer than normal. Needless to say, the motivation to wake up early enough to exercise and pray before I needed to give Agnes breakfast quickly drained away and I turned off my alarm. That was how the day started.
My husband returned from a night shift and made his way to bed just as I was making my way out. The baby was starting to fuss, and Agnes had been sadly calling for Mommy for a few minutes. I got her out of bed and changed her diaper as Edmund began to scream at the foot of my exhausted husband's bed. I finally began to nurse him, by the end of which my daughter had stunk her diaper. Then I changed both of them, finished nursing and finally got into the shower, a few minutes into which I could hear Edmund losing it from the first floor. Somehow while I was in the shower, Agnes had soaked the floor with what I believed to be toilet water--and let's just say the toilet was due for a cleaning--and she was pretty wet as well, either from leaning over the tub, or... toilet water. I was supposed to meet my friend in a half hour, and Edmund was still screaming. I needed to clean the floor, clean the things that were on the floor, and clean and dress Agnes all before I could go and comfort my baby. And neither Agnes nor I had eaten yet, and I had not had my coffee. Throughout this time I had said Jesus' Name many times in prayer along with a couple of choice words, not under my breath.
Throughout all of this I was recalling the words from the book I had read the previous evening and throughout the night feedings. I had eventually gotten to the part describing her daily schedule, which included what seemed to be about two hours of prayer. Somehow, it seemed, her baby never needed to nurse and was always happy, that her kids did everything without needing her help, and that the two year old bathed himself. Not only that, but her husband's consistent teaching hours of work are a far cry from my husband's nursing schedule in which not even one day of the week is consistent. I am tempted to walk away from this book because it is making me feel bad and a little hopeless about ever attaining such order and consistency in my life. Where I was thankful to not be behind on laundry or dishes a couple of days ago, I now feel like my life is simply trying to work in sleeping and eating around cries for attention and the physical necessities for care from my babies.
Still, what I have understood from the book, is that she has ordered her life, and the life of her family, around prayer. Holiness is her top priority, and while I am in the habit of making excuses for myself not frequenting the sacraments more often or never hearing the homily at Mass, because that's what motherhood is, she is looking at her day with the perspective that prayer provides the strength and reason for everything else. I cannot imitate her schedule, but somehow I want to imitate this practice of seeing my time and days as needing first to be filled with prayer, and then with everything else. I am a little disheartened and not sure how to move forward, but I am resisting the urge to cast away this book that makes me see myself and my self-centered or off-centered hours a little more clearly.
As I began to read, she talked about a time when she was ready to give up because she had hit bottom. I thought I can relate to that. She said a few things to her husband that were worse than what I have ever said, and the way she described her house made me feel pretty good about mine. If she was that low, then however she solves her problems in this book will certainly help me. She describes a conversion experience with her ordinary living and daily schedule, and how Christ led her to develop a rule of life, a routine to prioritize her time and be committed daily and hourly to the most important responsibilities, and to do this all not as a religious would acquire holiness, but as a religious wife and mother. It sounded so good, and though I had not yet read her actual routine, I was ready to start the next day with more purpose and to be more intentional about my time. I wrote down a rough schedule of how to accomplish my duties for the next day, even knocking off some originally planned chores that didn't seem realistic to accomplish. I set my alarm rather than planning on waiting to be dragged out of bed by the cries of my children, and I went to bed with high hopes.
My baby Edmund woke up about a half hour later, then about one or two hours later, then about one or two hours later, then about one or two hours later, then about one or two hours later... you get the idea. I also was up with him during a couple of these awakenings for longer than normal. Needless to say, the motivation to wake up early enough to exercise and pray before I needed to give Agnes breakfast quickly drained away and I turned off my alarm. That was how the day started.
My husband returned from a night shift and made his way to bed just as I was making my way out. The baby was starting to fuss, and Agnes had been sadly calling for Mommy for a few minutes. I got her out of bed and changed her diaper as Edmund began to scream at the foot of my exhausted husband's bed. I finally began to nurse him, by the end of which my daughter had stunk her diaper. Then I changed both of them, finished nursing and finally got into the shower, a few minutes into which I could hear Edmund losing it from the first floor. Somehow while I was in the shower, Agnes had soaked the floor with what I believed to be toilet water--and let's just say the toilet was due for a cleaning--and she was pretty wet as well, either from leaning over the tub, or... toilet water. I was supposed to meet my friend in a half hour, and Edmund was still screaming. I needed to clean the floor, clean the things that were on the floor, and clean and dress Agnes all before I could go and comfort my baby. And neither Agnes nor I had eaten yet, and I had not had my coffee. Throughout this time I had said Jesus' Name many times in prayer along with a couple of choice words, not under my breath.
Throughout all of this I was recalling the words from the book I had read the previous evening and throughout the night feedings. I had eventually gotten to the part describing her daily schedule, which included what seemed to be about two hours of prayer. Somehow, it seemed, her baby never needed to nurse and was always happy, that her kids did everything without needing her help, and that the two year old bathed himself. Not only that, but her husband's consistent teaching hours of work are a far cry from my husband's nursing schedule in which not even one day of the week is consistent. I am tempted to walk away from this book because it is making me feel bad and a little hopeless about ever attaining such order and consistency in my life. Where I was thankful to not be behind on laundry or dishes a couple of days ago, I now feel like my life is simply trying to work in sleeping and eating around cries for attention and the physical necessities for care from my babies.
Still, what I have understood from the book, is that she has ordered her life, and the life of her family, around prayer. Holiness is her top priority, and while I am in the habit of making excuses for myself not frequenting the sacraments more often or never hearing the homily at Mass, because that's what motherhood is, she is looking at her day with the perspective that prayer provides the strength and reason for everything else. I cannot imitate her schedule, but somehow I want to imitate this practice of seeing my time and days as needing first to be filled with prayer, and then with everything else. I am a little disheartened and not sure how to move forward, but I am resisting the urge to cast away this book that makes me see myself and my self-centered or off-centered hours a little more clearly.
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
Our Silly Heads
I remember several years ago a dear friend offering to pay for me to get a haircut because she was so afraid of seeing me butcher it at Great Clips, which was where I planned to have it cut. I didn't make her pay, but I did find another place with a reasonable or free price... I think it was Kenneth's Hair Salon.
Today I was a little more influenced by Dave Ramsey. I needed/wanted a haircut and I just couldn't stomach the prices of most hair salons, that probably are better and safer for most people! I debated returning to Aveda's Institute on campus, but memories of embarrassing myself sitting backwards in the massage chair and hearing my stylist ask the instructor what a round curl was (she had just told him to do this to my hair), I ruled that option out as well. I reasoned that I am rarely happy with my haircut regardless of the amount paid, so I might as well be unhappy losing $13 instead of $45 if I was going to be disappointed.
I drove past Second Glance and wondered if my husband would notice the missing money if I accidentally turned in there instead... After all, he had already suggested I could spend more if I wanted to. But I drove on with growing dread, pulled into the parking lot, waited a minute, then got out, wondering if any self-respecting women would pay only $13 for a haircut, wondering if any women even went there at all, wondering if the man on the phone really understood what I meant when I asked if it was $13 to get my hair layered and not just chopped, wondering what the people in there would think of me for paying so little for a haircut, and wondering if I should just go back home--but I took the plunge. I sat in the waiting area for a few minutes until a woman with hair buzzed on the sides and curly on top called my name for me to come sit on her chair. I hoped she wasn't insulted when I explained adamantly that I did not want it so short in the back you had to use a razor. She understood and didn't seem at all offended that I didn't want her same haircut. As she cut I was startled by how perfectly she seemed to understand what I wanted done to my hair. It was perfect, and I could not have been more pleased. I would describe why I liked it so much but that would be more boring than me writing about a haircut. So kudos to Great Clips! Glad I took the risk, and I'll be back!
Lastly, I want to talk about bananas... I know--there is no good way to make that transition! I read in a frugal cooking cookbook a story about the author and her husband sharing a banana for dessert. Tonight, I imagined I was eating dessert when I ate a banana and thought about it as a special, delicious, end of the day treat. I loved it, even more than usual, mostly just because how I thought of it (this experiment has to be with something that is actually good and you like eating; this would not have worked for me with a string of olives or carrots). I still finished off our brownies a bit later... but thinking back on it, I think I actually preferred the banana. The brownie was more of a disappointment and the banana a surprise.
I wonder how much of our actions and opinions are really just how we have been conditioned to think about things. I am not being a relativist here and saying it is all in our heads, but I am saying a lot probably is. I mean how important really is a haircut? We all want to look nice, of course, but how did they become so expensive? I did get lucky at Great Clips (meanwhile, everyone who looks at me hates my hair and thinks I must have gotten a cheap haircut... ha!), and others might not have the same luck, but it still is interesting how much we have come to value how the ends of our hair appear. In a similar way, does my sugary, chocolate brownie really taste better than the banana, or do I just think so because it is called dessert? Try to sleep with that question in your head!
Today I was a little more influenced by Dave Ramsey. I needed/wanted a haircut and I just couldn't stomach the prices of most hair salons, that probably are better and safer for most people! I debated returning to Aveda's Institute on campus, but memories of embarrassing myself sitting backwards in the massage chair and hearing my stylist ask the instructor what a round curl was (she had just told him to do this to my hair), I ruled that option out as well. I reasoned that I am rarely happy with my haircut regardless of the amount paid, so I might as well be unhappy losing $13 instead of $45 if I was going to be disappointed.
I drove past Second Glance and wondered if my husband would notice the missing money if I accidentally turned in there instead... After all, he had already suggested I could spend more if I wanted to. But I drove on with growing dread, pulled into the parking lot, waited a minute, then got out, wondering if any self-respecting women would pay only $13 for a haircut, wondering if any women even went there at all, wondering if the man on the phone really understood what I meant when I asked if it was $13 to get my hair layered and not just chopped, wondering what the people in there would think of me for paying so little for a haircut, and wondering if I should just go back home--but I took the plunge. I sat in the waiting area for a few minutes until a woman with hair buzzed on the sides and curly on top called my name for me to come sit on her chair. I hoped she wasn't insulted when I explained adamantly that I did not want it so short in the back you had to use a razor. She understood and didn't seem at all offended that I didn't want her same haircut. As she cut I was startled by how perfectly she seemed to understand what I wanted done to my hair. It was perfect, and I could not have been more pleased. I would describe why I liked it so much but that would be more boring than me writing about a haircut. So kudos to Great Clips! Glad I took the risk, and I'll be back!
Lastly, I want to talk about bananas... I know--there is no good way to make that transition! I read in a frugal cooking cookbook a story about the author and her husband sharing a banana for dessert. Tonight, I imagined I was eating dessert when I ate a banana and thought about it as a special, delicious, end of the day treat. I loved it, even more than usual, mostly just because how I thought of it (this experiment has to be with something that is actually good and you like eating; this would not have worked for me with a string of olives or carrots). I still finished off our brownies a bit later... but thinking back on it, I think I actually preferred the banana. The brownie was more of a disappointment and the banana a surprise.
I wonder how much of our actions and opinions are really just how we have been conditioned to think about things. I am not being a relativist here and saying it is all in our heads, but I am saying a lot probably is. I mean how important really is a haircut? We all want to look nice, of course, but how did they become so expensive? I did get lucky at Great Clips (meanwhile, everyone who looks at me hates my hair and thinks I must have gotten a cheap haircut... ha!), and others might not have the same luck, but it still is interesting how much we have come to value how the ends of our hair appear. In a similar way, does my sugary, chocolate brownie really taste better than the banana, or do I just think so because it is called dessert? Try to sleep with that question in your head!
Monday, June 23, 2014
Dill Comes in a Plant
The organic dilemma has infested my household, and in the past several days, my obsession with a new ambition has driven me to learn more than anyone wants to know about GMO's and OMG's and the dirty dozen and the clean fifteen.... As I eat my brownie made with generic chocolate chips and poisonous flour, my head is buzzing with excitement and new ideas of how to integrate a safer diet into my cooking and baking habits. Of course, most blogs or books will suggest a gradual increase in organic and non-GMO foods in order to grow gradually into a better diet, but I can't stand that idea. I want to change immediately. I wish I could say that I am so inspired by the green movement or that I feel like I am heroically saving the existence of my grandchildren by not feeding Agnes corn injected with infertility (please do not quote me on any of this!), but really I just want a simple, all inclusive, budget friendly way to become the perfect person... I finally found the perfect book, one that tells me exactly what to do on what day of the month in what season in order to have a perfectly nutritious diet of affordably organic food. Of course this book is meatless, which poses a problem, and it is only showing up as tiny letters on my Iphone, which poses another problem, but still I am going to give it a try. Whether it is my faulty perfectionism that drives me or a selfless awareness of how eating organically will save the world...;) I do want to grow in this area, because facts are facts, and I think it is a good idea.
While I am dying to jump all in, only because I prefer to fail in a big dream than succeed in smaller steps (not the best trait but sometimes it turns out ok!), I am lucky that we have already taken a couple of leaps in this area, one buying a quarter of a cow and the other paying for a share of weekly Ohio grown vegetables, that arrive every week and depend on my diligence to keep from becoming fly food in the dumpster. Naturally, I have kept an eye out for recipes that include at least most of the vegetables that need to be eaten so that I can make up for all of the days of ignoring the big green bag in my refrigerator; and of course, thawed roast beef so I can dump all of the less than fresh rest of the vegetables in a crock pot and hope that no one can notice.
Today I made a pasta recipe that included the remainder of basil, dill, and zucchini that were rotting in, I mean filling up, my kitchen. It was awesome. And I don't say that because I am an amazing cook or a super homemaker--I'm not. I barely saved the expensive fresh produce we invested in from being added to the carrot casualties of last week. It was awesome because normally I avoid recipes that include cutting up more than an onion, and I try to stock up on recipes that include a bunch of canned, open and dump, ingredients. How can I spend the least time cooking so that I can enjoy the rest of my life and be with Agnes? But today as I watched my blender attempt to puree the basil and dill and oil and garlic, I experienced the food in a different way. I was delighted to see the green variety swirl into one healthy mess of what would be the flavor of the pasta, no dry spices or canned foods necessary. I even called for Agnes to come watch it with me. I am in no way against canned foods or dried spices or easy recipes, but I do think it is so easy to get caught up in saving time that we lose it. Today I felt a little more alive, preparing these vegetables that were a little more alive, a little better tended to when grown, a little more recently picked from the earth, and I enjoyed it. I don't know where this current organic frenzy will take me, but I am thankful that my husband and I get to do this Ohio farm thing, this summer, and that I am forced to slow down a little bit and encounter what I am actually doing.
While I am dying to jump all in, only because I prefer to fail in a big dream than succeed in smaller steps (not the best trait but sometimes it turns out ok!), I am lucky that we have already taken a couple of leaps in this area, one buying a quarter of a cow and the other paying for a share of weekly Ohio grown vegetables, that arrive every week and depend on my diligence to keep from becoming fly food in the dumpster. Naturally, I have kept an eye out for recipes that include at least most of the vegetables that need to be eaten so that I can make up for all of the days of ignoring the big green bag in my refrigerator; and of course, thawed roast beef so I can dump all of the less than fresh rest of the vegetables in a crock pot and hope that no one can notice.
Today I made a pasta recipe that included the remainder of basil, dill, and zucchini that were rotting in, I mean filling up, my kitchen. It was awesome. And I don't say that because I am an amazing cook or a super homemaker--I'm not. I barely saved the expensive fresh produce we invested in from being added to the carrot casualties of last week. It was awesome because normally I avoid recipes that include cutting up more than an onion, and I try to stock up on recipes that include a bunch of canned, open and dump, ingredients. How can I spend the least time cooking so that I can enjoy the rest of my life and be with Agnes? But today as I watched my blender attempt to puree the basil and dill and oil and garlic, I experienced the food in a different way. I was delighted to see the green variety swirl into one healthy mess of what would be the flavor of the pasta, no dry spices or canned foods necessary. I even called for Agnes to come watch it with me. I am in no way against canned foods or dried spices or easy recipes, but I do think it is so easy to get caught up in saving time that we lose it. Today I felt a little more alive, preparing these vegetables that were a little more alive, a little better tended to when grown, a little more recently picked from the earth, and I enjoyed it. I don't know where this current organic frenzy will take me, but I am thankful that my husband and I get to do this Ohio farm thing, this summer, and that I am forced to slow down a little bit and encounter what I am actually doing.
Sunday, June 22, 2014
Change and Grace
Five months ago I started this blog, and I finally feel at a place to return to it, at least for tonight. It might be that writing is slipping back into my life as a special and integral part of it, or it might just be that my toddler is asleep and my husband is out with my seven week old. Ah, the freedom of not being touched or needed for an hour...
My motherhood has taken on an entirely new dimension. I do not just have one child, one budding personality, one little girl who holds my heart in her hand and around whom my days revolve. Now my life is a great balancing act--and I am not just talking about how to carry two children down the stairs at once or how to carry a laundry basket with a baby carrier on my front--a constant juggling of needs, the need to nurse, the needs for new diapers, the need for hugs, the need for a "good job" and "you are beautiful". Some moments I want to run away from it all and escape, and other moments, usually following an emotional catastrophe, I find that my baby has weaseled himself into the baby carrier I wear for the fifth time that day, but that he is close and peaceful and mine, and I remember that my little girl is the most delightful person in the universe. This is good, I know in those moments, and one day I will long for this time again, when my baby boy's head is resting on my heart and my little girl is delighted by a cup of milk and my lap.
My husband told me, when I was breaking down over my unavailability to my daughter in the first couple of days of Edmund's life, that we were going to get to know Agnes in an entirely knew way. We were going to get to know her as a big sister and to witness this new development in her life. Such a wise man! I have been amazed and inspired by my daughter! Though I have been stuck nursing plenty of times when she has asked for help with a toy or dealt with a baby hanging from her mom hours a day or hardly had a moment with her mom without her crying brother in the background, her response to Edmund himself has been the most welcoming and loving possible. She has never shown any jealousy toward him but treated him immediately like he belonged. I am thankful to be witnessed to by my daughter, whose entire life has altered and who has been largely inconvenienced and who has responded with love.
God's grace is sufficient, I am learning... again. I am also learning it is not sufficient for the tomorrow that lives in my head. His grace is sufficient right now. I am so helpless, and a baby who does not nap well, or hardly at all without me wearing him, and who loves to wait until Mommy has snuggled back in bed to decide he wasn't done nursing, is a baby who brings his mother to her knees in complete and utter surrender, not because she feels so trusting towards her Creator and Savior, but because she is one inch away from trading her faith, that seems ridiculous in the moment, for despair that begs to be allowed dominion in her heart. I remember the days when I felt like I could conquer anything for the Lord and opened my hands with the joyful prayer to God... anything for You! This is the anything He asks, and it is scary how close I come sometimes to rescinding that prayer of self-gift, because I am learning what self-gift feels like. Of course it is painful and sometimes I feel so empty, but then I am filled again. Christ provides. I finally drag myself out of bed after trying to ignore for a few minutes that both children have woken up, and I find my little girl in her crib smiling... "Hi!" and sometimes she starts jumping back and forth across her bed. Laughter. This is grace to me--the help given by God to do what I could otherwise not do. And He provides with renewed fervor in my heart to serve Him, a scripture verse that makes me feel understood, an encouraging word from my husband. He always gives the strength needed, when needed, and how it is needed.
My motherhood has taken on an entirely new dimension. I do not just have one child, one budding personality, one little girl who holds my heart in her hand and around whom my days revolve. Now my life is a great balancing act--and I am not just talking about how to carry two children down the stairs at once or how to carry a laundry basket with a baby carrier on my front--a constant juggling of needs, the need to nurse, the needs for new diapers, the need for hugs, the need for a "good job" and "you are beautiful". Some moments I want to run away from it all and escape, and other moments, usually following an emotional catastrophe, I find that my baby has weaseled himself into the baby carrier I wear for the fifth time that day, but that he is close and peaceful and mine, and I remember that my little girl is the most delightful person in the universe. This is good, I know in those moments, and one day I will long for this time again, when my baby boy's head is resting on my heart and my little girl is delighted by a cup of milk and my lap.
My husband told me, when I was breaking down over my unavailability to my daughter in the first couple of days of Edmund's life, that we were going to get to know Agnes in an entirely knew way. We were going to get to know her as a big sister and to witness this new development in her life. Such a wise man! I have been amazed and inspired by my daughter! Though I have been stuck nursing plenty of times when she has asked for help with a toy or dealt with a baby hanging from her mom hours a day or hardly had a moment with her mom without her crying brother in the background, her response to Edmund himself has been the most welcoming and loving possible. She has never shown any jealousy toward him but treated him immediately like he belonged. I am thankful to be witnessed to by my daughter, whose entire life has altered and who has been largely inconvenienced and who has responded with love.
God's grace is sufficient, I am learning... again. I am also learning it is not sufficient for the tomorrow that lives in my head. His grace is sufficient right now. I am so helpless, and a baby who does not nap well, or hardly at all without me wearing him, and who loves to wait until Mommy has snuggled back in bed to decide he wasn't done nursing, is a baby who brings his mother to her knees in complete and utter surrender, not because she feels so trusting towards her Creator and Savior, but because she is one inch away from trading her faith, that seems ridiculous in the moment, for despair that begs to be allowed dominion in her heart. I remember the days when I felt like I could conquer anything for the Lord and opened my hands with the joyful prayer to God... anything for You! This is the anything He asks, and it is scary how close I come sometimes to rescinding that prayer of self-gift, because I am learning what self-gift feels like. Of course it is painful and sometimes I feel so empty, but then I am filled again. Christ provides. I finally drag myself out of bed after trying to ignore for a few minutes that both children have woken up, and I find my little girl in her crib smiling... "Hi!" and sometimes she starts jumping back and forth across her bed. Laughter. This is grace to me--the help given by God to do what I could otherwise not do. And He provides with renewed fervor in my heart to serve Him, a scripture verse that makes me feel understood, an encouraging word from my husband. He always gives the strength needed, when needed, and how it is needed.
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