Jealous of the Cat

Sometimes, I am jealous of the cat.  

Yes, it is embarrassing.  

The thing is, she is in my husband’s lap every time he sits down.  She looks at him and he pets her, and when no one is looking, they meow at each other.  (Only, we are looking and we laugh at them.)

I’ve come to realize when our time at home increases, the cat’s time with my husband is also sure to increase, but my time may or may not.  After all, she demands it, and feels no shame about being needy.  No shame at all.

But, I’m a quality-timer, too, and while I am content with the time I get with my husband most of time, I am not content all of the time.  And in those times, I am jealous of the cat.

Ever heard that open mouths are the ones who get fed?  Sometimes, like today, I care more about getting what I need than about my pride, so I open my mouth and admit I need a little time (and that I am jealous of the cat).  

Yes, I said it!  You might guess this would get at least an eyeroll or blow up and out as a ridiculous notion that didn’t warrant a compassionate response, but you would be wrong.  Or, you might guess that it would lead to a conversation about cat behavior, that I am not at all interested in, and you would be right.  But, even that is better than most any other possibility.  

My husband graciously and generously granted my wish (like a really handsome genie) and we walked, and talked.  By the time we were through, I realized that mainly, I don’t want our lives and the interactions they consist of, to be in passing.  

Boys need to build stuff, fix bikes, replace brakes on trucks, and go hunting and fishing.  They make it known and they get the time they need to do those things with their Dad.  Wives need…  Well, wives need none of those things.  Not this wife, anyway.

There is no existing hobby or project that leads to sitting on the driveway for an afternoon or in a hunting blind all weekend.  Not for this wife. There’s always plenty to do in and around the house, but those things have fallen comfortably into his and hers, and rarely the two shall meet.  

We’ve hiked, canoed, and golfed, and there are a lot of things we haven’t tried.  Of course, I can also sit idly by watching his projects, go hunting, or any number of things to gain time.  But, “it shouldn’t be so hard” lurks in the background and suggests that something is wrong with the arrangement.

Thankfully, I’ve seen a lot of hard situations in marriage and know that this is a lot of crap.  (Please, excuse the term.)  Imagine being the keeper of all of your spouse’s memories when they don’t even know your name.  “It shouldn’t be so hard” needs to be checked early and often.  Its insistence doesn’t make it true.  Just because something is natural or beautiful or noble, doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be hard. Breastfeeding, anyone?

In the end, I got what I needed with the walking and talking, and know that healthy relationships must undergo and remain open to negotiation.

As love matures, it also learns to “negotiate”.  Far from anything selfish or calculating, such negotiation is an exercise of mutual love, an interplay of give and take, for the good of the family.  At each new stage of married life, there is a need to sit down and renegotiate agreements, so that there will be no winners and losers, but rather two winners.” Pope Francis, Amoris Laetitia, The Joy of Love

Meow.

Living Paycheck-To-Paycheck In a Little House at Christmastime

It's Christmastime.  Lots of beautiful pictures of beautiful people in beautiful places.  There are Christmas parties, well-lit trees, fires in fireplaces, and drinks for all.

Unless there isn't...

Without any direct proof, I suspect a large majority of us live paycheck-to-paycheck.  I also suspect that most of us feel poorer at Christmas than at any other time.  When you live paycheck-to-paycheck, a Wish list is your nightmare and a credit card's dream, and if you're not lucky enough to have good credit, it's simply a list of Things-I-Don't-Have-Enough-Money-to-Buy (which really isn't helpful any time of the year).  It's all-too-easy to look around and wish you lived in one of those big, beautiful houses with endless presents under the tree (that are already paid off).  And, if you succumb to your looking around, you allow yourself a long ride on the one-way swing from the "Have" to the "Have-Not" tree.

But, wait.  If you happen to be poor this Christmas, just barely making it, or one of those who thinks everyone else's Christmas is bigger, more beautiful, more Christmas-y, or more perfect than yours, venture with me to my childhood mind, for just a minute... 

I have never lived in a big house by American standards, but have only lived in mansions if you're from any other country on the planet.  As a little girl, I remember dreaming about dormer windows and a house with an upstairs.  I loved the thought of a big house, and the idea of all of those rooms, although I couldn't figure out (and still can't) what they might all be used for.  I have never lived in a house that had a room that wasn't used every day, but, I remember driving by big, beautiful houses, and wondering "What is going on in there?" and thinking, "It must be wonderful, whatever it is."     

However, I've grown up, and have spent some time considering what it is that drew me to those big, beautiful houses.  And, I've discovered it!  I always assumed there was more love in a big house.  I imagined something delicious baking in the oven, and someone who took the time to make it.  I imagined a group of people around a table, smiling and laughing (Ironically, all in one room).  I imagined the thoughts, the words, the interactions, the food, and everything in between,  to be beautiful and full of love.  

Pope John Paul II quoted Dostoevsky when he wrote, "Beauty will save the world."  I think I have learned why beauty is so powerful.  It is because someone cares enough to make an effort.  Beauty is the product of Love.  Whether it is the flowers that someone cares enough to water, the cookies someone cares enough to bake, or the decorations that someone cares enough to hang; the love and the someone behind it is where the real attraction is. 

I can still appreciate looking at a big, beautiful house, but I would no longer trade it for my own.  I now know that the someone(s) inside are the real source of my interest.  Scraping by or filthy rich, little house or big house, I have someone.  Many, in fact.  And if I continue with my suspicions, I suspect you do, too.  Celebrate with me, if you have even one person who loves you.  And read this poem any time the world tricks you into thinking you are poor.  Especially if you are living paycheck-to-paycheck in a little house at Christmastime...

If all the world were mine to plunder

I'd be content with just one town,

And in that town, one house alone,

And in that house, one single room,

And in that room, one cot only,

For there, asleep, is the one I love.

-Ancient Sanskrit Poem 

Dear God the Father, Thank you for sending Baby Jesus in His humanity.  Thank you, Mary, for saying "Yes".  Thank you, Joseph, for stepping in and stepping up.  Thank you, Jesus, for being born in a stable.  Not in a mansion.  Not in your own little house.  Not even a room in the inn.  Thank you for showing us that "love grows best in little houses".  Strengthen us as we guard our eyes, that we may not look away from the blessings in our life for any reason, least of all to look longingly at ways you've blessed another.  Please give us the grace to be that someone who strives to make the effort to love, and add beauty to the lives of those around us.  Thank you for those who do this continually, and for their example.  Please be with those who don't have even one by whom they know they are loved.  Let them be known and sought after.  Thank you for the wealth you've given us in those we love.  You know we would not trade them for any amount of money.  God bless us all - the poor who are poor, the poor who are rich, the rich who are rich, and the rich who are poor.  Amen.

Love Is Not Jealous - A Work In Progress

My boys had a swim meet today.  Brett volunteered to time, and I came later with the youngest and my mother-in-law.  As we walked in and took our seats in the balcony, Brett was talking and laughing with a young lady with long dark hair, tight pants, and a tank top on.  I'm pretty sure she could be a super model, if she's not one already.

I felt my stomach sink, but thought it would just be a momentary thing.  Then, I realized she was his timing partner, and they would be together for the duration of the swim meet.

Ohhhh, what an excellent opportunity for growth, here.  As the meet progressed, I vacillated between feeling proud that I wasn't feeling more jealous, and then feeling more jealous than proud.  Yuck.

Just today, we heard in the second reading that love is not jealous.  So, what the heck?  I know I love my husband, but apparently my love still needs to be purified, and maybe more than a little.

Unfortunately, I think God has a plan to help me with this (as demonstrated today).  Bummer. I mean, Thank you, Lord.

On a rational level, I know I am "proven" (as a friend's husband tells her in her insecure moments).  I know I am a much better "catch" than I was 15 years ago, and I wouldn't go back to 20 for love nor money.  But, that doesn't mean it isn't pretty to look at.

One day, I hope to reach the place where I can be happy that my husband has enjoyed another woman's beauty.  But, for now, I am going to have to settle with knowing that these humbling opportunities are perfecting my love.

Note:  I was very tempted to keep these thoughts tucked safely away in my little green journal, but in the spirit of a soul laid bare, I am sharing them, that they might be at worst, amusing to you, and helpful, at best.

Dear Heavenly Father, Thank you for the Eucharist this morning and the priests who bring You to us.  Thank you for another gorgeous day.  Thank you for already-made-Knights-of-Colombus-chili and sparing me another opportunity to disappoint in the kitchen.  Thank you for healthy children who can and want to swim.  Please forgive my imperfect love, even after all this time.  Thank you for exceptionally beautiful women, and the opportunities they give others to grow in virtue.  Help them to know that their beauty is a reflection of your Beauty and that You are the One who bestowed it upon them.  Please help me and all other women who shrink when we (or our husbands) are in their company.  Help us to feel Your Love, especially in those moments, when we feel only the things we lack.  You are so generous and faithful.  Thank you for all.  I love You.  Amen.