Maybe I Should Have Turned Around Sooner

I walk to reset.  Physically, spiritually, and emotionally.  Preferably where no concrete nor buildings can be seen, but where at least a little bit of water can.  Where dogs can run free and there are more dragonflies than people. 

I have my favorite places, but they're a little too far when I only have an afternoon, so I tried somewhere new today.  A little closer to home. 

Just a couple of miles in, the levy I wasn't supposed to be on came to an end.  It was on one end of a lake, so I thought I'd just keep going and make a circle, eventually.  I looked for the trails indicated on my map, but the only ones I found were being used exclusively by spiders. 

But, I ran into a fence, so I followed that.  Until it came to another fence.  And the only way to keep going was to get really skinny and squeeze through a poorly aligned gate.  So, I did that, and my dog did the same. 

The grass was tall and there was no trail to speak of, so I consulted Google maps and saw a road within walking distance, so I just kept going.

But, what Google maps didn't show, was another fence that met another fence between me and the road, and no way out except the way I came. 

Ugggghh.  My dog and I were four plus miles into this thing, shade wasn't nearly as plentiful as the sun, and the thought of trudging back the way we came was more than I had time, energy, or water for. 

So, I did something I've never done before.  I dropped a pin and called for help.  My husband does Search and Rescue for a living, so I thought I'd give him a chance to rescue his wife.  And he did.

I hung my Camelback on the fence as a signpost and waited in the shade with my dog and the fire ants. 

As we waited, I relished the relief I was feeling and remembered something I read once about being rescued...  

"Stranded and starving, somebody has to get packed up and sent off into the unknown for food, taking what water is left, hacking a way through the undergrowth, hoping somehow to forge a path to something somewhere.  But then the noise of a helicopter, and rescue approaching.  That changes everything.  The one thing needed now is some space, so that what is coming can come...God is an approaching God, and our main job will not be to construct but to receive; the key word will be not so much 'achievement' as 'space'.  Making space for God in order to receive."

Nothing more to do, but wait, and receive (and answer a few questions).   

 

"Now, tell me again why you couldn't just go back the way you came?"

...

"You'd understand if you saw the way we came."  

This all reminds me of one my favorite C.S. Lewis quotes.  "If two men are traveling in the wrong direction, the man who turns around the soonest is the most progressive man."

I'm sure the other guy, had there been one, would have been the most progressive man today. 

But, he would have deprived himself of the opportunity to receive and his spouse of an opportunity to be a knight in shining armor.  He wouldn't have had an opportunity to remember that God is an approaching God, and his sock line probably would have been embarassingly unnoticeable.  I mean, you can't get those just anywhere.

When the Song is Over

I usually write when I have a thought or series of thoughts that I can't quite shake.  If those thoughts have the potential to make you laugh or think, I gotta do it.  And, to be honest, I haven't stopped thinking about singing the National Anthem three days ago.  If I hadn't made the mistake of asking my friend to video it, I could have smoothed over all of the rough parts in my mind, and just incorrectly and happily remembered that I sang it perfectly.

But, I did ask her, and so I can't.  I've played and re-played the video, wishing I could have started on the right note (the very lowest one that would actually come out of my mouth).  Instead of blankly staring at the Ross Volunteer Company posting the colors, I wish I would of been busy finding the starting note in my head, and more importantly in my vocal cords, to make sure I got it right!  Man!

A few notes in, I realized that I was committed to singing in a key I never practiced in, and would not have wanted to sing in, at any price.  In the end, the high parts were in a falsetto I never use, and cringe-worthy, at best.  To my surprise, the crowd jumped in on the last note with whistles and applause.  I attributed it to their patriotism, forgiving and/or forgetful natures, gratitude it was over, or glad-it-was-you-and-not-me celebration.  I work with a great group of people.  That would be just like them.

Today, in an effort to make myself feel better, and put it behind me for once and for all, I sheepishly googled "worst National Anthems" and was delighted when YouTube responded by offering the Top 10 American National Anthem Performance Fails.  My youngest was within earshot.  He heard the first sample come through my phone speaker and said, "Is that the worst?" to which I answered in the affirmative.  "Are you on there?"  No (Eyes flash from- phone-to-son-back-to-phone).  A few more samples played, and then, "Is that you?" Grrrr...

I should have brought earbuds.

I closed YouTube more grateful than I have ever been for Christina Aguilera, Michael Bolton, and Cuba Gooding, Sr.

Before singing (like for a whole month and every day beforehand), I asked God to bless my singing of the National Anthem, and was really hoping that if He wanted to humble me, it would be in a less public, less observable way than during that 1 minute and 20 seconds.

I guess God knew that was a powerful set of minutes.  Those minutes could deliver some ripe and tasty humble-fruit that could make enough humble pie to serve myself and the nation I was singing for.  Maybe for years.

And this all reminds me of a 12-year-old girl we met last weekend.  She was a guest at the rental house next to ours on the Colorado River.  If she had a volume knob, it was turned to Max.  You couldn't not notice her.  She seemed to run wherever she went and had as much to say as volume to say it with.  She baited her own line, took her fish off the hook and threw them back in the water, like somebody who'd been working on a fishing boat for thirty years.  Her expertise was volunteered when any one of us lacked 100% confidence in any moment.  I think she's the only the person who could take a fishing pole out of my 8-year-old fishing expert's hands to see if he had something on the end of his line, which is exactly what she did.

I was equally intrigued and annoyed by her bouncing back and forth between our dock and theirs, and with her total lack of self-consciousness.  She ushered the relaxation off the dock with her bounding, volume, observations, and opinions.

But, when we got back from the beach one evening, their stuff was all cleared out.  They were gone.

The following morning, I found an old styrofoam cooler by our dock that I hadn't seen before.  I lifted the lid and found this floating inside:

    

And although it looks like a piece of paper, wet from floating in an old styrofoam cooler with shrimp in it, it tastes like humble pie.

We spent the weekend enduring this beautiful, outspoken fisher-girl and she left us with what she had.  And took the time to write a note.  And wished us well.

God doesn't need to put me on a stage in front of 2,000 people to humble me.  He just needs to surround me with people who are better at being people than I am.  And He does.
                         

Competent Humility

I'm just home from the Adoration chapel (my weekly one hour date with Jesus, only I'm usually at least five minutes late, because I call my Mom on the way there, and well, ten minutes is hardly enough time, but leaving sooner proves mostly impossible).  Tonight was one of those nights I didn't need the coffee I drank beforehand to stay awake, because I am in epiphany land.  Land of epiphanies.  When did I write you last?  A couple of weeks ago, I think.  Pretty much since then.

My clinical pastoral education supervisor challenged me to make "claiming my competence" as one of my learning goals.  I was shooting for "positive use of power and authority", which seemed much more clinical and considerably less narcissistic, but I conceded.   I could see that she might be on to something when I couldn't so much as comfortably name one thing I knew I was good at, or why I was good at it, without feeling like a total clown/heel/Oscar award winner.

I quickly accepted I was going to have to recognize the competencies I already possess and name them.  But, I wondered why the idea of it felt so abhorrent?  This might be one.  A long carried belief...

...God highly values the man who out of true humility belittles and forgets himself, judges himself unworthy of all gifts and benefits, does not flaunt them when received, and does not seek the praise of others...                             -Thomas a Kempis

Very aware of the tension between my learning goal to name my pastoral competencies and a life goal of pursuing humility (hopefully with a more lenient deadline than six months), I began to rack my brain, perusing my new books for hints, and trusting that God would resolve the real or perceived conflict between naming my competencies and belittling and forgetting myself!  Goodness me!

In doing so, I came across a chapter entitled, The Caregiver's Life Experience as a Source of Authority.  Aha!  Life experience!  Yes!  I have that.  Good, here we go...

Without reading so much as a paragraph from the chapter, I made a list of all of the things I've endured or overcome in my life (including but not limited to the four things mentioned in my grief timeline from my last post).  Afterward, I was actually feeling a little embarrassingly proud of that list.  Huh!  I had never considered my hardships as bullet points on an emotional availability/proven character/pastoral competency resume of sorts.  Kind of cool to drop this list (pretend it's written on an old tin can) into the empty metal bucket of my self-perception, and hear the loud clank of something in there!

That would have been quite enough self-revelation for a good chunk of time to come, but, it was quite the same thing again (in rapid succession).  While I was sitting there, feeling good about all of the bad/hard things in my life, I realized, "Hey!  That's not all!"  There are a lot of really good things that should be clanking around in that bucket, too!  Fourteen years of marriage, twelve years of motherhood, seven years of working in the clinical setting between the medical and spiritual side, three units of clinical pastoral education, and a partridge in a pear tree!

Ha!  Hoo and Ray!  

Feeling instantly more competent in pastoral care than ever before, I thanked God for the mercifully brief period of revelation, all of the experiences in said revelation, and returned to the conundrum of forgetting myself while thinking about myself inordinately.

Providentially, I found this little gem of a daily morning offering, a few days old, in my inbox from catholiccompany.com:

"There was much in the Magdalen that she had never used, perhaps never dreamed of, until she came to our Lord. He revealed to her the secret of true self-development, which is another word for sanctity. And she found under His guidance that everything in her had henceforth to be used, and used in a fuller and richer way than she had ever imagined possible. It was in no narrow school of self-limitation, in no morbid school of false asceticism, that this poor sinner was educated in the principles of sanctity, but in the large and merciful school of Him who has been ever since the hope of the hopeless, the friend of publicans and sinners; who knows full well that what men need is not to crush and kill their powers, but to find their true use and to use them; that holiness is not the emptying of life, but the filling; that despair has wrapped its dark cloud around many a soul because it found itself in possession of powers that it abused and could not destroy and did not know how to use. Christ taught them the great and inspiriting doctrine 'I am not come to destroy, but to fulfill.'"
— Fr. Basil W. Maturin, p. 40

I felt extremely humbled at the thought of being so needy, so well-known, and so hand-fed.  Exactly what I needed.  There was only one thing I still needed to know.

Where do the corners of Magdalen's true self-development and Thomas a Kempis' humility intersect?

Back in the chapel, I asked the Lord this question, in so many words.  Can you show me what being competent and humble at the same time looks like?

He did.

Sneaking On and Off the Stage

"Humility is not thinking less of yourself than you ought.  It's not thinking of yourself at all."

-C.S. Lewis

I'm back in my hotel room after attending an Audrey Assad concert with a dear friend. Before tonight, I think 1993 was the last time tears streamed down my face without understanding why.

But, this time it wasn't the holiness of Saint John Paul II or even the exquisite beauty of Audrey's voice that moved me beyond this capacity to understand my own feelings.  Her vulnerability and humility swept through the door of my soul.  At the beginning of her concert, she made no introduction, but unassumingly took her place after the music started.  Like she wasn't THE reason we were there.

She led us seamlessly from song to song except for the one time she stopped to speak about herself, and then only shared those things which united us in our humanity - personal struggles with anxiety, and hope for restoration and redemption.

It felt like we'd been there minutes at best, when her musicians quietly laid their instruments down and left the stage.  It was down to Audrey and her piano, and us.  We followed most eagerly wherever she cared to lead, and would still be there if she had been willing.

Instead, to close for the evening, she led us in a familiar hymn...

Lord, I need you, oh how I need You

Every hour I need You

My one defense, my righteousness

Oh God, how I need you

And there we were, singing from the depths of our hearts with Audrey's voice arching over all.  Until it wasn't.

During the final refrain, she walked silently down the stairs, off the stage, and out the door.  My friend had her eyes closed, and was stunned to find an empty stage at the song's end.  A prayer scrolled silently down the screen and we finished it with a collective Amen.  The lights came on and we did our best to hang on to her, to call her back.  

But, she did not return.  She did something better.  She left us with our profound need for God, and nothing of herself to distract us from it.  

 

Death-Blow to the Senses

I'm out of everything.  Wisdom, Generosity, Energy, and Inspirations.  I'm not really sure how long I've been out, but just know that I am.  I seem to be failing rather than helping those I've taken on, and feel like I have traipsed deep into the Forest of "Dumb and Fumbling".  I know God loves me, and I love Him, but there are no feelings that accompany this great knowledge. 

This apathetic feeling has been called "dark night of the soul" or desolation.  If I had to name it, I guess I would call it faith a la carte.  Faith by itself.  Belief in God without a dollop of feeling or side dish of personal satisfaction. 

But, I don't really want to call it anything.  To name it makes it seem like something concrete or tangible.  It isn't.  It doesn't feel like anything.  In fact, it feels like the opposite of anything.  Simply nothing.  A void. It feels like God is far away.  I can "see" Him in Creation and experience His love through others.  I can read and talk about Him.  But, I just can't "hear" or "feel" Him.

Further proof of this "distance" has been evident during my last several Holy hours.  They have felt sterile and seemed unproductive.  I know this is impossible, as taking time to "be" with the Lord is always productive, just for drawing close to Him. 

More or less, my standard Holy hour consists of talking to Jesus for 15 minutes, listening for 15, and reading to learn more about Him for 30.  Most recently, though, I have talked plenty during my turn, and eventually doze off while I wait for Him to begin His "turn".  He doesn't seem to have anything to say to me. 

While I am trying to settle into the idea of hearing nothing indefinitely, I am trying to get comfortable with all that I lack.  I am acutely aware that grace has consistently provided all of the above gifts (wisdom, generosity, energy, and inspirations), that I am accustomed to.  I am grateful for them, look forward to their return, and will try to maintain peace of heart until they do.

I know that when we act exclusively from our will, without regard to feelings (or lack of), these actions are the purest of all.  Pure, because we don't get any kickback.  It kills selfishness.  And that is always good. 

I find great comfort in the treatment of this "death blow" to the senses in Abandonment to Divine Providence:

~When God speaks it is a mystery, and therefore a death-blow to my senses and reason...The divine action by one and the same stroke kills and gives life; the more one feels the death to the senses and reason, the more convinced should one become that it gives life to the soul...The life of faith is a continual struggle against the senses."

~The senses, in terror, suddenly cry to the soul, "Unhappy one!  You have now no resource, you are lost," and instantly faith with a stronger voice answers:  "Keep firm, go on, and fear nothing."

~There cannot be anything great in us in the sight of God except our passive endurance...the operation of divine providence is accomplished in great measure without our knowledge, and even in a way that is unexpected and disagreeable to us."

I haven't heard God's voice in a while, but He sent me a message today in God Calling.  He confirmed His action, wisdom, and power, the unimportance of my own capabilities and sentiments, and confirmed my ability to unleash His wisdom and power in my life. 

Follow My Guidance.  Be afraid to venture on your own as a child fears to leave its mother's side.  Doubt of your own wisdom, and reliance on Mine will teach you humility. 

Humility is not the belittling of self.  It is forgetting the self.  Nay more, forgetting the self, because you are remembering Me.

You must not expect to live in a world where all is harmony.  You must not expect to live where others are in unbroken accord with you.  It is your task to maintain your own heart peace in adverse circumstances.  Harmony is always yours when you strain your ear to catch Heaven's music.

Doubt always your power or wisdom to put things right, ask Me to right all as you leave it to Me and go on your way loving and laughing.  I am wisdom.  Only My wisdom can rightly decide anything - settle any problem.  So rely on Me.  All is well.

Dear God, Thank you for this overcast day, places to sit outside, and naptime!  Lord, you know how I am feeling.  Pretty small, a little bit dumb, and very helpless.  I am sorry I have come to rely so heavily on the gifts You have been so generous with.  You are Wisdom.  You are Generosity.  You are Energy.  You are Inspiration.  These things are mine only in the measure that I claim them in You.  Thank you for the humbling reminder.  I offer you my inabilities and lack of all.  May they glorify You.  Thank you for opportunities to act solely out of the will, so that selfishness can wither and weaken.  Thank you for the written word, when there is nothing to hear.  Please grant me humility, patience, kindness, and peace of heart, as I wait on You.  I love you and thank you for all that was, is, and is to come.  I love You.  Amen.

Living In the Kitchen

My niece moved here a few weeks ago.  She sleeps at my mother-in-law's house (2 doors down), but spends a lot of her time here.  She's learning what life looks like at the Dixon residence.  As she walked in last night, she said, "Every time I come over here, you are standing in the kitchen."  I agreed, and we sat down to dinner.  After dinner, I was back in the kitchen, and she asked on her way out, "Is your life fulfilling?"

I said "Yes" (after making a mental note of the magnitude of this question, and the cynicism dripping from her voice), rattled off something about how important it is, and then toyed with her question through the night and most of today.

Do I find my life to be fulfilling?

What is fulfilling about "living" in the kitchen?   Preparing and cleaning up after meals three times a day, 341 (365 -24 if you eat out twice a month) days of the year.  1023 times if you're really into Math...There are definitely other areas of my life that don't involve the kitchen, but it really is the biggest part of what I do.  Biggest in terms of time, and biggest in terms of mental energy!

Some people might find it fulfilling because they're really good at it, or maybe it is a form of artistic expression for them.  Others may love it, simply because they love food.

Three strikes, here.  I don't find "living" in the kitchen to be fulfilling for any of these reasons.

As time has passed, I have come to realize it is necessary for people to eat.  It is one of the few legitimate activities we engage in, as human beings.  If left to my own devices, I would graze throughout the day (almonds, cheese, apples, etc...), and quite possibly, never so much as warm something up.  Needless to say, I  LOVE eating out because it takes me out of the whole eating process!!  One of God's greatest gifts, really.  I digress...

Back to finding fulfillment in the very-necessary, food preparation responsibilities that come with being a wife and mother:

I think the highest calling in this life (and therefore, the most fulfilling) is to love our neighbor for love of God.  The people God has entrusted to me are my most important neighbors.  When I cook and clean for them, or whatever else I do to meet/ exceed their needs, I am engaged in the most important activity on the face of the earth.  Further proof that these actions are approved by God, is that they demand humility!  Most often, the only reward I receive for my efforts (besides generous praise and gratitude from my husband) are words of disapproval regarding the menu, or complaints about how long it took to put it on the table. 

There are so many things we can do in this life.  Many look fulfilling, but are not.  And just as many look unfulfilling, but are.

So, yes, my life is fulfilling.  But, that does not mean it is always comfortable or without its doubts.

Just today, I had to have an "affirmation" lunch with my husband because I'm back to feeling like I can't please anyone for very long, which always makes me think I must be doing something wrong.  However, he assured me that the fruits of my labor are to come.  In the future.  The very distant future.  At the end of our meal, he handed me a fortune cookie, and jokingly said, "Maybe your answer is in here."  It read, "Ships are safe in the harbor, but that's not what they are built for." 

My I-can-relate-anything-to-anything interpretation of that was "We can't use comfort as a sign that we are doing what we were made to do".  A ship isn't battered by waves until it is doing its job.  Just because I lack the comfort of being surrounded by people who are happy and grateful all the time, doesn't mean I'm not doing what I'm supposed to be doing.  I am.   Therefore, I am fulfilled.  Fulfillment is only possible when you know you are "the-best-version-of-yourself" and doing what you were made to do.

Yes, my life is fulfilling.  And, I am tremendously grateful to my niece for asking the question to begin with.

Dear Heavenly Father, Thank you for Dallas and her question.  Thank you for having such confidence in me that you continue to place people in my life to love and serve.  Please forgive me when I stop communicating the joy that always comes with doing Your will.  Thank you for my husband, his words of encouragement, and his belief in me.  Thank for a kitchen to work in, and a home to welcome and love those You send.  Please remain with me and all of those who struggle with their vocation, especially when it appears to be of little value to the world!  Thank you for pithy little statements in the middle of a cookie.  Thank you for all.  I love You.  Amen.

A Peek Into Rehab

Someone I know and love is in Rehab.  My family went to visit her yesterday for the first time since she checked in 22 days ago. 

Second only to every Walmart experience I've ever had, I have never been around so many people who were visibly struggling with their flesh for their soul.

I am reminded how important family and people are to one fully engaged in this very real battle - That we "belong to each other", as Mother Teresa says.  I am reminded that we are all engaged in this same battle, only some are winning and some are losing.  I am reminded of the need for our intercession in prayer.  These people cannot get themselves out, by prayer, or any other means.  They need the "body of Christ" in a very real, and tangible way. 

Yesterday, I experienced the lack of hope that the world gives.  My "person" was telling me about the people who have been discharged, only to come back in two day's time.  They are putting their hope in themselves, and "themselves" are not capable of coming through.  She was telling me about a boy who was sitting close by, who had to have "skin checks" every day, because he makes continued attempts on his life by cutting himself.  I would never have known by looking.  All I saw was a boy with hair in his eyes, surrounded by people who clearly loved him.  I was reminded that you cannot presume anything about anyone, especially by looking. 

As I learned yesterday, the first step in a 12-step program is admitting that your life is out of control and that you are powerless over it.  Secondly, that there is a higher power - something bigger, greater, and more powerful than you.   

It is scary for me, even for a few moments, to think as if I were the biggest, greatest, and most powerful force in my life.  I can see how the daily pressure would be too great, and can imagine the temptation to succumb to the unremitting appeal for an essential, life-preserving escape.  This is exactly what God is telling us when He says that we are strong in our weakness.

"'My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.'  I will rather boast most gladly of my weaknesses, in order that the power of Christ may dwell with me."  2 Corinthians 12:9

If we know we need God above all, and are subject to Him above all, all will be well.  Only then, can our relationships be properly ordered, and we can take our proper place, in humility.

When I used to work with the poor with the St. Vincent de Paul Society, I heard a great analogy:  Imagine you have a garage full of boxes and stuff that has accumulated for years.  You want to clean it out, but there is no obvious starting point.  You feel so overwhelmed by the big, seamless mess, that the best (most peaceful) course of action seems to leave it, as is.

When one lives a life of poverty, or addiction, their whole life feels like that.  It is not just one room in a house.  These people need us. 


Dear Heavenly Father,  Thank you for a car that works to bring us to those in need.  Thank you for the beauty of your Creation.  Thank you for the privilege to participate in another person's life.  Thank you for family, and for those people who give us glimpses of your unconditional love.  Lord, thank you for being a God of order, and for putting us directly under Yourself in that order.

Lord, I beg you to draw near to those who live on the edge of despair, the sin against hope.  Lord, please comfort them, and grant them the grace of wisdom - to know where to begin to sort through the years of accumulated mess.  Please grant them the grace to forgive those by whom they have felt betrayed or abandoned, and to look only to You for fulfillment.  

Please grant those of us You have sustained with your grace, an extra dose of compassion for those who need our intercession.  Help us to take seriously our responsibility to pray and ask graces for those in need, especially because they are incapable themselves.  Help us to extend the mercy we have been granted.  Amen.   

Chopped Liver and Boy-Packed Lunches

I read something today that explains a lot. 

In New Guinea, "Children were considered babies until they lost their front teeth.  When this happened, the little boys of the tribe left their mothers and went to live with the men in the village.  Fathers then took over the nurturing of their sons and the mothers raised the girls." - A Mother's Touch by Elise Arndt

Ohhhhhhh.  My middle son just lost both of his front teeth and not so coincidentally, I am chopped liver at my house.  No, I am not exaggerating.  Every night the two older boys fight over who gets to sit by Daddy at the dinner table.  The one who loses (who has to sit by me) is usually close to tears.

Just this afternoon, the youngest was down for a nap, the middle one was gone with Daddy, and my oldest was watching a movie.  Before, I sat down with a book and a cup of coffee, I asked him, "Are you happy watching the movie, or would you like to do something with me?"  He asked, "Why?"  I said "because if you don't want to do something together, I'm going to sit down and read."  He said, "You can do whatever you want to do."  So, I happily plopped down with my book, after being dismissed by my second-grader.

Just thought I'd share in case you are also experiencing being "phased out".  It's normal.

On a different note, I visited a friend last week and was able to see her "Kids Contribution" poster hanging up in her kitchen.  A gold mine in plain view for my plundering!  However, after laying my eyes on the "Pack your lunch" item, I had everything I needed.  Thank you, Julia!  Thank you, Amy for suggesting it to her!  Thank you, Elizabeth for pairing them up in your Titus mentor Mom program!  (Have you read Spiritual Mothering by Susan Hunt?  I never finished it, but would love to donate it to your cause, if you should want it.)

So, this last week, my boys started packing their own lunch.  This is coming at the perfect time, because just the week before, my husband was (unusually) home during our get-ready-for-school routine.  He was very unimpressed with my boys lack of respect and appreciation when fielding my questions about what to put in their lunch box.  Problem solved.

Another unforeseen benefit, is that one of my kiddos is a slow mover in the mornings.  In order for him to have time to pack his lunch, he has to keep moving.  If he doesn't, there is a natural consequence waiting for him - he has to eat school lunch.  Hee hee.  I just love natural consequences.

Oh, I almost forgot --in fact, I did forget, and came back to add this in-- Not having to make my sons' lunches returns time to my schedule, which allows me to sit with them at the breakfast table and read The Lives of the Saints.  Major bonus.

Another thing Julia mentioned (and which also came up this weekend in conversation with another), was encouraging our children to ask the question, "Is there anything I can do to help?"  We need to encourage the spirit of service.  This is my next quest.  Thank you, friends.

Dear Heavenly Father,  Thank you for last night's Confession with a new priest and the gift of Yourself in the Eucharist this morning!  Thank you for lessons from New Guinea.  Thank you for the gift of friendship and writing on the wall.  Thank you for loaning my boys to me.  Please "help me to do all I can to prepare them for the day when You will call them home. Thank you for the humility gained in motherhood.  I love You and can palpably feel Your love for me.  Thank you.  Amen.

Oily Hair, No Make-Up, PJs, A Messy House, and A Visitor

I am babysitting a little boy today, my house is a mess because I haven't been home in the morning for the last couple of days (afternoon is naptime, so I am VERY careful not to clean much, for fear of waking my precious sleeping angel!), I haven't washed my hair in two days (which looks like 10 days for most people), and I am still in my pajamas.  At 8:15, I remembered a friend was going to swing by at 9:00!

My first thought when I remembered she was coming was to shower!, get dressed!, put on make-up!, quickly change the sheets that were peed on last night because the whole room was starting to tell on my son!, and straighten up the house!, in that order.

I knew 45 minutes wasn't enough to make progress on even half of the list, so I began triage of my self and house:  Tend to the critical, Leave the serious and minor injuries... but then something occurred to me.  "It will be good for my friend to see me and my house like this!  She always thinks I have it together, and I never raise my voice, and that I have some secret to life that she doesn't have."  Decision made.  Apart from pulling off the nasty sheets and throwing a few blocks in a tub, I did nothing.  I shoved my vanity into the backyard, made a pot of coffee, and awaited my friend in my messy house with a bare face, in PJs.

This move probably has more to do with the very understanding and non-judgmental nature of my friend, and less to do with any personal growth on my part, but it was still a little victory for me.  Maybe if I keep practicing with my friends, one day I will be comfortable doing the same with anyone who comes to my door, without the reassurance of a proven friendship to bolster my courage.

Thank you to Dr. Laura when she writes, "A spotless, totally organized house is not necessarily the most warm, inviting, enjoyable, or appreciated place on the face of the earth.  The warmth of a home comes from the attitude of the people in it, not the decor or the perfection of every detail."

Dear God of House and Home,  Thank you for little inspirations and opportunities to practice humility.  Thank you for the gift of friendship and the lack of judgment that comes with it.  Please help me to care more what You think of me than what others think of me.  Please give those who feel that everyone else has it figured out, the grace to know that there is always something to be endured, as well as something to be enjoyed.  Please give me the grace to overcome my vanity, so that I may enjoy unexpected visitors and open my home to others without fear.  Oh, and thank you for Dr. Laura.  Amen.