Being Married on a Saturday Morning

I've been thinking about something and this Saturday morning has been the perfect crucible for my thoughts. 

I've had a lot of conversations lately with men and women who are grieving the loss of their spouse and with people who find it difficult to have their needs remotely met in the context of marriage.  In the case of the former, I hear the intensity of a husband's love for his wife, how he wished he would have appreciated her more, how a wife would give anything for five more minutes with her husband, and how many question the value of their own life without their spouse in it to give it meaning.

I find this incredibly poignant, beautiful, and heart-rending.  I can never hear too much about one person's love for another and I grieve with them. 

But, then I wake up in my own marriage on Saturday morning.

I don't see my husband in the mornings during the work week, because he's hitting the gym long before I care to be awake.  But, on Saturdays, we're both home, and I'm tricked into thinking that starting our day together in separate rooms means something.  That checking in with the outside world first thing, is an indication that everything else (including me) is the last thing. 

My mind swings back and forth between the reality of those who are grieving the loss of their person and sitting alone on my futon, feeling like we're getting it all wrong.  I start to feel resentful and pull away in this black-and-white-world-where-you-wish-you-had-five-more-minutes-with-the-one-you-love or you sleep walk through the next forty years. 

And I pray.  I pray that the Lord will illuminate the truths that I've forgotten and help me to see what I'm inclined to ignore.

And He answers. 

I remember that it would be impossible to live forward in time with the intensity of frustrated love, which belongs to the grieving.  That to buy more gifts, spend more time, appreciate every moment and opportunity to love sounds so wonderful, but is impossible to maintain. 

I remember that human beings have a certain capacity to love and give and invest in others.  This same capacity is largely influenced by hunger, sleep, intro and extroverted natures, schedules, time, emotional strain, and how long you have to keep it up.

The intensity of love in a marriage is often shrouded by the dailiness of it all.  Love looks like washing dishes and bringing the grill back in and going places you don't want to go and being awake when you'd rather be napping.  But, it's there.

We don't have to see something to know that it exists.  Ask any dog who lives in a yard with an invisible fence.   

Love is there and so often, it looks like beginning again.  Trusting again in that love which you cannot see and as often, cannot feel.  And it's worth everything you can throw at it, commit to it, or sacrifice on its altar. 

This time, in my case, it will look like an apology for being cold with no explanation and refusing kindness without gratitude, and maybe a blog post which encourages us to believe again in a love that we're tempted to doubt. 

The outstretched and enduring nature of our mission as married folks is daunting.  It is impossible to do it perfectly, but possible to do it well.  And part of doing it well is persevering...until death do us part.  And between now and then, taking advantage of what is, to feel fully that which you have to give, and giving it. 

 

 

Day After Day, Week After Week, Month After Month, Year After Year...

I finished a book today that I bought four years ago for my husband.  It was recommended by a beloved priest then, and again last week by my spiritual director.  

It reminded me of something I used to know and how it inspired me when I learned of it, and motivated me to practice it consciously, at least for a little while.

The vision of the kingdom, the call of Christ to labor and suffer with him, has overtones of a great and noble crusade - yet we must each of us translate that vision and retain that spirit in the routine, humdrum events of every day...one day at a time, frustrated and perhaps discouraged, each twenty-four hours filled with as many defeats and frustrations as victories, each hour made up of sixty minutes of humdrum things and little people busy and concerned about many other things, day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year...

...Each day, every day of our lives, God presents to us the people and opportunities upon which he expects us to act.  He expects no more of us, but he will accept nothing less of us; and we fail in our promise and commitment if we do not see in the situations of every moment of every day as his divine will...

I simply cannot be reminded of this enough.  Brother Lawrence in the The Practice of the Presence of God and Fr. Jean Pierre de Caussade in Abandonment to Divine Providence have been two great teachers for me on the subject.  But, I read them so long ago, and had forgotten, again.  So, thank you, Fr. Walter Ciszek for reminding me, yet again, to celebrate the sacrament of the present moment!  

Wrapping up Memorial weekend and kicking off a summer with boys ushers in a lot of memorable moments...

Like trying to build a hobbit house under a trampoline

Hanging out with friends and explosives

Launching a cardboard paratrooper from a rooftop

Shooting an AR-15

Fishing, again.

And finding a little beauty in a fungus for me, in the middle of all this boy stuff

And these are just from the last two days.  But, I know there are exponentially more unphotographed and unrecognized moments than photographed and fully present ones.  That's okay.  It will always be that way.  But, the gap doesn't have to retain its seismic features.  I can close it, little by little.  Not by taking more pictures, but by being present and remembering, believing that the details are the expressed work of God.  

This is not easy, but for me, very worthwhile.  If I can work to believe that God is at work in my life (because, sometimes it is work), all of the moments that come to us, come with their own sense of peace and joy.  People, places, inconveniences, and drastic changes in the plan can be received with new energy and acceptance when considered as the will of God, hand-delivered.  

Lord, I believe.  Help my unbelief!  

Mark 9:24

   

Two Irreconcilable Worlds

I have an embarrassing history of being totally ignorant about what is going on in the world.  Not being a TV person and spending very little time in the car, it has been very easy to be ignorant.  I never felt compelled to check the news, because I never understood how simply knowing about bad things, without the ability to impact the situation for good, was helpful to anyone. 

Well, time has passed, and I have slowly decided to stay more informed; probably a combination of the guilt of being a bad citizen, the inability to participate in conversation, and the embarrassment that comes with it.  I  downloaded an app for a local news station, and started checking it once a day.  However, I just found out about the recent Ebola outbreak from my niece (because I hadn't seen anything on the local news), so I downloaded the CNN app.

Today (and probably the whole of my life), people are fleeing everywhere. Staying in their homeland would involve conversion to Islam, extreme taxation, or death by the sword.  Children are dying from thirst in the mountains after fleeing religious persecution with their families.  People are dying by the hundreds from ebola virus.  And I'm sitting on my futon, thinking about part-time jobs and getting in one more beach trip before school starts.

I don't know how to reconcile my life with their lives.  I don't want to be un-impacted by such horrific suffering.  As a Christian, I know I can and should pray.  Is that it?  Pause for a moment, feel bad for a moment, intercede to the Father for them, and then business as usual?  It's a little gut-wrenching to think the answer is "Probably".  Other ways to help in a practical manner seem non-existent. 

It brings me back to the point where I seem to find myself more and more frequently...to appreciate what I have, and to give where I can.  Just yesterday, I registered my boys for the upcoming school year.  In the health section, I checked the "No" box 54 times (18 for each boy) where it asks about specific problems or medications.  Nope.  Nothing.  Healthy as horses.  Do you mean that for every "No" I checked, some parent checked "Yes"?  Yes. 

Have we moved in the last three years to find work in farming or fishing?  Hell, no!  I can't even imagine that.  But, someone has.  Lots of people.  Every person who has a child in this school district has to answer this question, and it's not because it's irrelevant. 

I'm grateful when I check the box that I am, in fact, my child's parent and we reside in the same place.  Again, I could not imagine it any other way.  But, a lot of people can't imagine it my way, either. 

So, this morning, after taking a peek at the news and getting ready for the next thing in my day, it looks like the world is "going to hell in a hand basket" and my world is as rosy as ever.  What to do with that?  I will live more gratefully and intentionally this day.  I will not complain about anything that is short of the pain of death -at least for today.  I will try to encounter Christ, as I attend my women's group this morning.  I will donate to an old classmate's campaign for safe driving, call a friend who's having a hard time, and bring "Happy hour" to a friend recovering from surgery. 

This doesn't mean anything in the face of religious persecution or ebola virus, but it means everything in my world, and that is the best I can do.

Dear God of Worlds - Large and Small,

Thank you for my life and all of the healthy people in it.  Thank you for freedom of religion.  Thank you for the tremendous wealth, comfort, and safety we have in this country.  I pray we use it for good, and that it may not be an obstacle to anyone's salvation, as you have said.  Lord, please free, comfort, and protect those who need it.  You have said that we need not fear that which can kill the body, but only that which can kill the soul.  Please convict us of this, Lord.  Help us to live in such a way, that is small, but important.  You see and know all.  Jesus, we trust in You.  Amen.

Twenty Years Later

Twenty years ago, on March 20, 1994, I awoke to a knock on the door early in the morning.  My Mom's brother and best friend were standing there.  They told me my Mom had been in a car accident, and flown to a bigger city for the "right kind of doctor", and something about a hurt back.  I remember thinking that she probably wouldn't be able to lift anything heavy for awhile, but not much beyond that.  When we drove to see her later that day, I found her all puffy lying in a bed with a metal halo attached to her skull, abrasions on her arms, in a room that smelled like blood and medicine, I guess.  Oddly enough, I don't remember anything about her left wrist which was completely shattered.  Worst fracture the orthopedist has seen in 10 years, as I recall.  I remember asking about how she got this mark, or that mark, and when she answered that she didn't know, she sounded like a robot and said something like "I'll be fine." 

Unlike my older sister, I don't remember being told that she'd never walk again.  Maybe that happened during the following week when I was gone on my high school spring break choir trip to Disneyworld.  I didn't want to go, but everyone felt it was best.  Mom was going to live, and beyond that, there wasn't anything I could offer by staying.  So, I went. 

For the following three months, Mom lived in the rehabilitation hospital, re-learning how to eat, brush teeth, bathe, and basically, survive.  This is the same hospital I visited, so she could see me in my junior Prom dress.  The same hospital where we slowly learned what our new life would look like.  Throughout this time, my younger brother and I lived with our aunt and uncle.  We were 16 and 14.

My mother became a quadriplegic on that fateful night, 20 years ago.  She broke her neck and left wrist.  She was 43-years-old.  It has been a long, long road.  Lots of things come with a lack of mobility.  Bed sores, incontinence, pneumonia, blood clots, digestive issues, chronic pain, total lack of privacy and self-sufficiency, and all manner of emotional and psychological adjustments besides. 

But, none of these are why I'm writing today.  Today, I am thankful for what I have gained from walking with my Mom through part of her journey.  Through it all, I was only her right-hand lady for  about four years, and a back-up beyond that.  But, I learned a lot in 4 years.  I wish that I could say that I served her well.  But, I was often bitter and unkind.  However, twenty years later, my experiences with her are still positively impacting the decisions I make. 

On Monday, I am going to embark on a new chapter in my life - pursuing hospital chaplaincy.  This begins with a 10-week internship at a local hospital, and will follow with a Master's degree in Pastoral Theology.  I could not feel more suited or more excited.  Because of my mother's accident, I took the course to become an Emergency Medical Technician during my Senior year of high school.  From there, I worked in our county's EMS service and emergency room through college and beyond.  I loved the people, I loved the work, and I loved the environment. 

As my youngest starts kindergarten next year, it is time for me to expand my stay-at-home-mom gig.  As Providence would have it, all of my personal experience, work experience, and passion about the spiritual life are coming together as a new vocation.  I am going to be a hospital chaplain. 

I'm with my Mom and all fellow Christians when I repeat Romans 8:28 from the bottom of my heart,

We know that all things work for good for those who love God - who are called according to his purpose.

Dear Heavenly Father, Thank you for my Mom.  Thank you for preserving her life.  Thank you for her perseverance, her forgiveness, and her continual effort to grow closer to You.  Thank you for my aunt and uncle who absorbed us into their lives, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.  Please give me the grace to imitate them, when others look to me for something they should be receiving from someone else.  Thank you for my co-workers through my EMS years, and for their model of Christianity in the workforce.  Thank you for all of the opportunities You have afforded me because of another's misfortune.  Thank you for all of the things that seem easy, because of going through something really hard.  Please purify all of the good that I do poorly today, and all of the days of my life.  Please bless my pursuit to become a hospital chaplain, if that is in fact Your Will for me.  If not, please take away my desire and replace it with Yours.  Amen       

A Concussion and an "F" for Trust

Happy Father's Day to you and yours!  It's been a good one for us.  Sleeping in, Mass, and eating out make for a pretty great day.  I also emailed my Dad the links to my posts where I wrote about him (A "Rough" Life - A Tribute to my Grandma, Uncle, and my Dad).  He doesn't do blogs, but it occurred to me that he might better understand how much I love and respect him if he could read what I had written.  He was deeply moved, printed it off, and put it in his Bible.  Happy Fathers Day, Dad.

Two weeks ago today, my husband (and the father of my children) got a concussion when he and his skateboard parted ways.  I was at the swimming pool (roughly 100 yards away) when it happened.  My oldest son came and told me "Dad has a concussion, but he's fine.  He's up and walking around".  I clambered out of the pool to go see what in the world was going on.

As I was gathering our stuff, my husband walked into the pool, saying he thinks he has a concussion, was seeing stars, and half of his vision was blurry.  He wasn't really sure what happened or if he lost consciousness, so I sat him down on the pool steps and went to investigate.  What I found was a pool of blood in the bottom of the skate bowl.  At the time, I couldn't find any witnesses, so I assumed he was knocked out because he laid there long enough to make a puddle of blood (from his elbow) the size of my footprints.

I did my best to wash the blood away and we loaded up to go home.  He had virtually no memory of the day and began to ask a series of questions, which went something like this..."What happened?  Was I awesome?  Did anyone see?   Was I unconscious?  What happened?  Was I awesome?  Did anyone see?   Was I unconscious? What happened?  Was I awesome?  Did anyone see?   Was I unconscious? What happened?  Was I awesome?  Did anyone see?   Was I unconscious?..." 

You get the idea.  I worked for an ambulance service for 6 years, so I knew he had a concussion at least, and was worried he might have bleeding in his brain.  I waited for a couple of hours to see if his symptoms (repetitive questioning and memory loss) would improve, but they persisted. 

To make a long story short, we ended up in the ER.  He had a CAT scan which showed no bleeding on his brain and he got three stitches in his elbow.  He took the following day off of work for "brain rest".  Aside from a sore neck and elbow, and a little light sensitivity, he was back to good. 

But, then I wasn't so good.  The more I thought about what happened, the more I had my own series of thoughts that went something like this...

"It freaks me out that my husband was lying unconscious (or something close to it) 100 yards away from me and I didn't have any idea.  I guess I always thought that if something happened to him I would somehow know.  A gut check or something.  Nope.  Nothin'.  What if it was worse?  What if his brain had bled, and he had a stroke or an aneurysm?  What if he had broken his neck?  If he died, financially we would be able to make it, but if he's disabled and it didn't happen at work, we'd have nothing.  I am totally dependent on him and his good health.  This vulnerability feels like crap. Should I get a full-time job?..."

This went on for about two days.  I was pulling back emotionally and he knew it.  He was telling me not to dwell on what could of happened, and that I couldn't love him any less because of some dumb accident.  But, I was trying to.  I don't want to be physically, emotionally, psychologically, and financially dependent on someone who could check out at any minute!  I told him he was a liability, and he was quick to let me know that I was one, too.  Then, he said something to the effect of, that's what happens when you get married...

Hmmm....

Good point.  He would be in as much of a fix if something happened to me, as I would be if something happened to him.  Not for a paycheck, but for someone to run the household and take care of the kiddos, and all of the other things wives do. 

After this conversation, and by God's grace, I started to realize that the only problem I had was a trust problem.  In the unusual circumstance of seeing my husband incapacitated, I withdrew my trust from God, and put it in myself.  Only, I quickly realized how drastically short I came from being able to provide the solution that I was trusting myself for.  If this whole scenario was a test for my trust in God, I'd have a Big 'ol "F" over here...

As Providence would have it, one of the Mass readings during this time was from Tobit 2:9-14.  In the story, Tobit became blind for four years after some birds pooped on his eyes.  (I'm not making this up!)  Eventually, his wife weaved cloth and provided for the family, and life went on...

Duh. 

God has provided for me for 35 years.  Some of those years, he provided for me through my parents.  Others, I provided for myself.  For the last 10 years, my husband has provided for me and our family.  If something were to happen to him (God forbid!), God would continue to provide for me.  Yes, it would look different.  Very, very different.  But, I would have what I need.  Just like I always have.

It is a paradox to be sure, but our security is our vulnerability.  It doesn't matter if I like it.  It's just the way it is.

Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat [or drink], or about your body, what you will wear.  Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing?  Look at the birds in the sky; they do not sow or reap, they gather nothing into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them.  Are not you more important than they?  Can any of you by worrying add a single moment to your life-span?   Matthew 6:25-27

Dear Heavenly Father, Happy Father's Day!!!  Thank you for being The Father of fathers, King of kings, and Lord of lords!  Thank you for fathers who help us believe in You and Your love for us.  Thank you for my husband and the way my kids will emulate him even before they recognize his greatness.  Thank you for his health and the big lesson in humility and trust, when it was compromised, even for a short time.  Please bless him with good health and a long life. 

Lord, please draw near to those who don't know what a good father is.  Make Yourself known to them!  Please grant the grace of forgiveness to those who need it. 

Abba, I love You.  Thank You for loving us first!  Make us love You more and more.  Amen.

A Blind Man On a Busy Street

A couple of days ago, I saw a blind man cross Villa Maria at a stoplight.  If you don't live in my neck of the woods, it is one of the busier streets, and my least favorite to drive on, much less walk across with my 20/20 (very corrected) vision.  I could not believe my eyes.  Actually, I thought it was impossible that he should be at a busy intersection. alone. in the darkness. with nothing but a stick.  So, I watched him very carefully, looking for any sign that he could see even a little bit. 

The traffic stopped at the red light.  He proceeded across, waving his stick up and down so as to be seen.  When he got to the other side, he stopped abruptly (like you do in the dark when you bump into something), put his stick down and zigzagged it across the ramp into the parking lot.  He successfully navigated around the young man on the corner spinning his big "We buy gold!" arrow, and he disappeared from my view.

I still can't get over it.  All I could figure out was that he must live nearby, and have every step counted between his house and the grocery store.  And how do you shop at the grocery store, by yourself, when you can't see?!  Now, that I think about it, he wasn't carrying any bags.  So, I wonder what he was after?  Could he have just been going for a walk?!  Could that possibly be relaxing?!  Could the benefits from the exercise outweigh the risk from the stress?  Goodness!

Seeing him made me wonder if there is a blind person on the face of the earth who doesn't believe in God.  They have to trust to survive.  Every step is a step of faith; it is not optional. 

I am dying to run into this man again sometime.  Maybe I should set up camp at that intersection and wait for him.  A little stalker-esque, but I am pretty sure I would never be the same if I could hear his story.

I wanted to write to you about him when I got home that day, but I was pretty sure "I saw a blind man cross a busy street." post would have been lost on you, and I didn't know what else to say.  Until now.

This morning's meditation in God Calling connected the dots for me.

I AM with you to guide you and help you.  Unseen forces are controlling your destiny.  Your petty fears are groundless.

What of a man walking through a glorious glade who fretted because ahead there lay a river and he might not be able to cross it, when all the time, that river was spanned by a bridge?  And what if that man had a friend who knew the way -had planned it- and assured him that at no part of the journey would any unforeseen contingency arise, and that all was well?

So leave your foolish fears, and follow Me, your Guide, and determinedly refuse to consider the problems of tomorrow.  My message to you is trust, and wait.     ~Jesus

Ok, we know God is good, but isn't He GOOD?!  I am ecstatic that this reflection is the perfect follow-up for yesterday's post about self-imposed suffering, and that it reminded me of another illustration about God as our guide - the One who knows the way because He planned it!

When God makes Himself the guide of a soul, He exacts from it an absolute confidence in Him, and a freedom from any sort of disquietude as to the way in which He conducts it.  This soul, is urged on without perceiving the path traced out before it...When you are conducted by a guide who takes you through an unknown country at night across fields where there are no tracks, by his own skill, without asking advice from anyone, or giving you an inkling of his plans; how can you choose but to abandon yourself?  Of what use is it looking about to find out where you are, to ask the passers-by, or to consult maps and travelers?  The plans or fancies of a guide who insists on being trusted would not allow this.  He would take pleasure in overcoming the anxiety and distrust of the soul, and would insist on an entire surrender to his guidance.

Fr. Jean-Pierre de Caussade, Abandonment to Divine Providence

At the risk of making this post entirely too long, I want to end with some Phineas and Ferb lyrics that stuck this morning when I was helping my youngest pick up the pile of toys in his room. 

Not Knowing Where You're Going

It's so much fun not knowin'
where you're goin'
Take a left or a right and just go in
without really knowin'...
There's no surprise in life, if you know
where you're goin'

So walk around like a monkey with a blindfold on...


Sometimes I think it's fun not to know where I'm going, and sometimes I don't.  In fact, last year I went with some girlfriends on a "Mystery Bus" tour.  Not knowing where you were going was the whole point, and it was a blast! 

Anyway, none of us know where we're going.  For eternity?  Yes.  But, daily, weekly, or monthly?  Not so much.  Whether you like it or not, we're on an adventure full or surprises, and we have been assigned a Most Excellent Guide. 

Dear Heavenly Father and Earthly Guide, You are so AWESOME!  Thank you for the blind man and the example he gives that he knows nothing about.  Thank you for being our guide.  You know our trust issues.  Maybe because we can see, we try to see too much.  Help us to take each step, in faith.  There are such things as groundless and foolish fears.  Thank you for convicting us of that, again.  Sorry to be so slow in getting it.  Please give us the grace to see life as an adventure, and the courage to sing with Phineas and Ferb, "It's so much fun not knowin' where you're goin'!"  I love you!  You never cease to surprise, encourage, and love me.  Thank you.  Amen.

One Cruel Mark At A Time

The following applies to us any time God is at work in our life, but we don't have a clue what He's up to.  All we know is that it hurts.  Here is another view, from a distance:

It is true that a canvas simply and blindly given up to the work of the pencil only feels its movement at each moment.  Each blow of the hammer on the chisel can only produce one cruel mark at a time, and the stone struck by repeated blows cannot know, nor see the form produced by them.  It only feels that it is being diminished, filed, cut, and altered by the chisel.  And a stone that is destined to become a crucifix or a statue without knowing it, if it were asked, "What is happening to you?" would reply if it could speak, "Do not ask me, I only know one thing, and that is, to remain immovable in the hands of my master, to love him, and to endure all that he inflicts upon me.  As for the end for which I am destined, it is his business to understand how it is to be accomplished; I am as ignorant of what he is doing as of what I am destined to become; all I know is that his work is the best, and the most perfect that could be, and I receive each blow of the chisel as the most excellent thing that could happen to me, although, truth to tell, each blow, in my opinion, causes the idea of ruin, destruction, and disfigurement.  But that is not my affair; content with the present moment, I think of nothing but my duty, and I endure the work of this clever master without knowing, or occupying myself about it.

Yes!  give to God what belongs to Him, and remain lovingly passive in his hands.  Hold for certain that what takes place either exteriorly or interiorly is best for you."

~Abandonment to Divine Providence by Jean Pierre de Caussade

Dear Heavenly Father, Thank you for Fr. Jean Pierre de Caussade and his writings.  Thank you for this one, in particular.  Please help us to remain lovingly passive in Your hands, and endure Your work, in whatever form it may present itself, with peace.  Please purify our self-love, which always demands to know what is going on, and help us rest in our ignorance of Your divine plan.  Amen.

I Should Have Answered the Phone

Have you ever had someone in your life that simply loved you well?  No strings attached.  Love without obligation or responsibility.  Love that seeks you out because you're you.  Years go by without seeing one another or even talking on the phone, but the world is still a friendlier and sunnier place because you know they're out there and they're crazy about you?  And the only memories you have together are good and wonderful with no junk thrown in?

I have.

 And today, during my son's naptime, my phone rang, and the number belonged to one of these special someone's.  But, I didn't answer.  I knew it was going to be a long conversation since we hadn't caught up in so long, and my son was asleep, and I was working on a gift that I needed to finish by tomorrow, blah, blah, blah...  So, I didn't answer and thought I would call her a little later today.

On the way to Mass, my friend called me again.  Once again, I didn't answer because I didn't have time to talk (and I hate it when people answer the phone to tell me they don't have time to talk - especially when I haven't talked to them in a really long time).  I generally think it is best practice to let your voicemail get it, if you really can't talk.  But, today, that was not what was best.

I got in the car after Mass and my husband's phone rang.  It was my Mom trying to get a hold of me.  She called to tell me that her (and my) lifelong friend died yesterday.  The same one I thought was calling me a couple of hours before.  When I didn't answer.  Only it couldn't have been.  She died yesterday.  It must have been her husband calling me from her phone, trying to get in touch with me, to let me know.  I tried to call him back tonight, but he didn't answer.  I left a voicemail.

I will be going to KS for the funeral in a couple of days and will be chewing on memories between now and then.  She was a tried and true friend to my Mom and my family, and a sheer blessing to me.

I trust she is in Heaven or on her way, so I'm not sad for her.  I will be praying for her soul and asking her to pray for mine. 

But, I am left with myself, which isn't feeling too awesome at the moment.  I'm a bad friend.  I should have answered the phone.  And the thing is, I'm a bad friend to many.  I don't initiate.  I don't reach out, unless there is an urgent need.  I don't pick up the phone to call, or sometimes even answer (if I can't talk or it's naptime). 

The last thing I want to do is make excuses, but I've tried to figure this out about myself at different times, and I think it boils down to being an introvert.  My husband argued with this assessment for years, but it's true.  I really love and am truly interested in people and their lives, but I recharge at home.  Alone.  In the quiet.  Raising three boys, seven and under, doesn't generally allow for the kind (or quantity) of recharging that I need.  So, I am always craving it, but fighting it at the same time, and I hate this about myself, especially today.

I know my friend knew that I loved her, but not because I showed it very well.  And for this, I am sorry.       


Dear Heavenly Father,  Thank you for my friend, Linda, and for all that she added to the lives of those around her.  Thank you for the friend that she was to my mother and to my family.  Thank you for the way that she loved me.  Please, eternal rest grant unto her, and let Your Perpetual Light shine upon her and the souls of all the faithful departed.  Through Your Mercy, let them rest in peace.  Lord, Please comfort her husband.  Rest Your Hand upon him and let Him know you are near.  Please forgive me for my selfishness today and every time it has robbed another of a blessing you had in store for them.  Especially when You intended it to come from me.  Lord, please show me how to be a better friend.  I don't want to fail those you have entrusted to me.  Amen.     

What To Bury in A New Year

Happy New Year!  There's nothing like an official fresh start.  It's true that every moment of every day offers the same opportunity to begin again, but sometimes the obvious helps us observe the reality.

Normally, I feel very reflective this time of year and already have a list of things I want to improve or change.  So far, the list is short:

1.  Exercise (Still trying to figure out the plan here, as I cancelled my gym membership a few months ago.  It required me to drag my 3-year-old out of the house every day of the week, which just isn't fair).  I also tried putting my tennis shoes on and walking out of the house with a jump rope in my hand, as I saw my boys off to school.  That worked for awhile...  Probably need to be praying for the desire on this one, because right now, I have none.

2.  Make it to daily Mass once a week.

3.  Re-eliminate soda.  Stick to water and coffee.

4.  Make a menu and use it - avoid the "make dinner with whatever is on hand" scenario.

One of my favorite garage sale book finds of the year, God Calling, is a little red hardbound book, written anonymously by two old, poor, suffering women, to whom God revealed Himself.  They recorded His words to them, in a daily meditation format.  Today's is entitled Between the Years:

~Our Lord and our God.  We joy in Thee.  Without Thy Help we could not face unafraid the year before us.~

I stand between the years.  The Light of My Presence is flung across the year to come-the radiance of the Sun of Righteousness.  Backward, over the past year, is My Shadow thrown, hiding trouble and sorrow and disappointment.

Dwell not on the past-only on the present.  Only use the past as the trees use My Sunlight to absorb it, to make from it in after days the warming fire-rays.  So store only the blessings from Me, the Light of the World.  Encourage yourselves by the thought of these.

Bury every fear of the future, of poverty for those dear to you, of suffering, of loss.  Bury all thought of unkindness and bitterness, all your dislikes, your resentments, your sense of failure, your disappointment in others and in yourselves, your gloom, your despondency, and let us leave them all, buried, and go forward to a new and risen life.

Remember that you must not see as the world sees.  I hold the year in My Hands-in trust for you.  But I shall guide you one day at a time. 

Leave the rest with Me.  You must not anticipate the gift by fears or thoughts of the days ahead.

And for each day I shall supply the wisdom and the strength.

Dear God, Thank you for a new day, a new year, and keeping us safe through the night.  Please help me to do everything you command here.  Help me to remain in "today".  I leave tomorrow to You.  Please give me the courage, desire, strength, and love to do Your will. I love You.  Amen.

     

Insecurity - The "I" word

Today's topic is my least favorite of all because it is the thing I dislike the most about myself.  Insecurity.  The "I" word.  It should be a 4-letter word, really.  I'm not sure where it comes from (and believe me I've spent a lot of time trying to figure it out).  Being a child of divorce?  Being hurt by others?  Original sin?  Jacques Phillipe writes in Searching for and Maintaining Peace:  We come into the world marked with distrust.  This is original sin.  All our spiritual life consists precisely in a long process of reeducation, with a view to regaining that lost confidence, by the grace of the Holy Spirit Who makes us say anew to God:  Abba, Father!" 

The insecurity or lack of confidence I feel, thankfully for you, (not-so-much for my husband) seems to be restricted to my marriage.  It used to be a constant struggle for me in my early married life.  I will be married 10 years in November.  By God's grace and my husband's fidelity and patience, this surfaces much more seldomly.  At any rate, it is exacerbated when my husband travels or works a lot (which he has been lately).  His job requires that he works, trains, and deploys with many women who are unknown to me.  This is my achilles heel and I never feel more powerless or at-his-mercy than these times.  It is compounded by our inability to discuss it (He gets too frustrated) and his inability to comprehend it (He is the most secure person I have ever met).

Why am I sharing this with you?  For several reasons.  #1.  To let you know that you are not alone.  #2.  Things that are painful in the dark (kept as secrets) lose their power in the light.  #3.  To encourage you to share the thing(s) that you dislike the most about yourself or things you are afraid of (with a spiritual director or someone you trust)  #4.  It is good for humility. #5.  As Margaret Guenther suggests in Holy Listening: The Art of Spiritual Direction, "I must be willing to be the needy, vulnerable, weary traveler as well as the generous host."  #6.  It tells the truth about who I am without God - powerless.

In Unbound, Neal Lozano writes, "We have all internalized lies from the master of deception.  They may serve as faulty foundations upon which we build our lives.  This system of thinking is built like a bird nest:  one straw at a time (one damaging thought at a time).  As this pattern of thinking is built, he finds a place to dwell and exerts greater influence on our emotions and will."  "At the heart of satan's attack upon you is his attempt to rob you of your true identity and destiny.  satan will do anything he can to keep you from knowing God as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit."

Satan has used my insecurity very well in his plan.  It changes the rock of confidence into the sludge of insecurity.  It changes my loving and nurturing self into a distant and cold one.  It takes a considerate person and turns her into a self-centered person.  It changes a God-filled vessel into an empty pot.  It takes something beautiful and turns it into something ugly.  Yes, satan loves using the wrench of insecurity; it fits every nut and bolt I have.   

The following entry is from almost 3 years ago. 
 

August 9, 2009

8:42pm – Sunday

I turned 32 years old today.  Brett is reading to Brayton and Walker.  Wyatt went to bed around 7:20pm.  Today I am feeling so blessed.  Blessed to be in a great marriage and have 3 beautiful, healthy, intelligent, loving boys.  Even though I’ve been “pretty good” most of my life, I can’t begin to imagine deserving all that God has given to me.  The Bible says He blesses us beyond what we can even imagine and I believe that.   

Brett and I went to First Friday.  Our first real date without the baby.  Then we went to Luigi’s Patio Ristorante last night for supper.  Live music, excellent food, and even better atmosphere.  It was the perfect place to go for a date.  It felt like we were in a town far, far away from here. 

I am trying to figure something out about myself.  It seems like some of my insecurities are showing up a little more lately.  I think it’s because we’re starting to be more socially active again.  I always feel a little insecure when Brett seems to connect with/enjoy another female.  I have felt this way multiple times in the last several months – anytime we have been with another couple.  I think it is because I haven’t seen him really interact with other women since we’ve been together.  I guess the solution is just to be in those situations more often, so I will realize they are innocuous and part of life, and to pray about it. 

I wonder if other people feel this way or if I’m more sensitive since I came into the relationship with trust issues.  He’s not doing anything wrong or inappropriate, so I know all of the growing/changing needs to happen on my end.  I’m going to scoot this up on my priority list!  Feels good to write it down…I also want to work on not comparing myself to other women.  We were at the pool the other day and I saw the most beautiful girl in this town.  I felt so badly about myself the rest of the day.  I wonder if I make people feel badly about themselves – I never want to do that…It’s a terrible feeling. 

I’m going to make my 32^nd year a year of increased selflessness and gratitude.  I am going to pour even more energy into my family and less into what (I think) I’m missing out on.  Of all the other things I would like to be doing (traveling, playing the guitar, swimming, riding horses, etc…) none of it would mean a thing without the love I have for my boys and my husband.  They give meaning to everything else I do. (The end)

So, satan can use my insecurity as a wrench, but he's not the only one.  God can use it, too.  I LOVE the following quote by Fr. Bede Jarrett:

"God allows our faults and temptations.  But, surely God cannot want me to have such a weakness, temptation?  Oh, yes.  He does.  He made each of us with our individual character and its difficulties.  If we look back we can see how through all our lives it has been the same thing - so we can't help it can we?  For some reason, God has given these things to us to carry out His will.  We must rememer that circumstances are ALWAYS favorable to God's plan, always, always.  To our own, no, very fortunately for us...what seems to us so unfortunate is the best possible thing in God's plan, and so we must never look back."

Thank you, God for my insecurity, if that's the way you want it.  It is terribly uncomfortable and I think I would rather carry a different cross.  But, all crosses are uncomfortable and I know that You use all things for my good because I love you.  Lord, help me to rebuild the nest of my thinking so that only You may enter and satan must remain outside.  Jesus, I trust in You.  Amen.

   

Three hours

February 29, 2012 - Adoration Chapel
Dearest Jesus, I'm in Your physical Presence again and I am trying to follow Your call.  I feel like You are asking me to share my experience with the women in my parish.  Please tell me exactly what message You want me to bring to them.  I don't want to do anything of my own volition, but only Your holy will...

(This is what poured out from my pen in the following hour)
Three hours.  For three hours, Jesus lived on the Cross.  10,800 seconds of dying.  Of pouring His life, breath, and blood out for us.  And at the very same time, pouring out His forgiveness upon us and interceding for us before His Father.  This doesn't even begin to account for His agony in the garden, the merciless scourging, the crown of thorns, carrying the Cross, His falls, and the endless mockery He endured.
Can you imagine standing at the foot of the Cross and telling Jesus that His sacrifice is insufficient?!!  That you need greater proof of His love?!  This is what we are saying when we fail to trust Him.  That we need something more.
If your trust is the measure of your love.  Do you really love Him?  Ask yourself if you have received His mercy, His forgiveness.
If you haven't or feel like you are unable to, beg Him for the grace to accept it.  Only He can do this for us, but we have to ask Him.  He poured out His life for us moment by moment to give us this gift.  He will not refuse you. 
If you can accept His forgiveness, you can accept His love, with His grace.  Ask Him for it.  Once we can begin to truly love Him, we can begin to trust Him.
It is only when we begin to trust Him, that His total and perfect sacrifice is made perfect in us.  It is only then that we stop adding to His agony.
During our retreat Fr. Scott said "God's greatest joy is forgiveness.  Our own forgiveness is what makes us most like God.  Jesus wanted the nail marks to remain after His resurrection to remind us how much He loves us and how important the Cross is in our lives.  This Lenten season, cast yourself freely and fully into the merciful arms of Jesus. Ask God for the grace to take this step.  Take the Nestea plunge of faith".

At the Foot of the Cross

During my silent retreat this past weekend, I felt like I was on the mountain with Jesus for 3 days.  I am convicted now, more than ever before of His love for me and for each one of us.  I learned that I continually underestimate Him, which with His grace I hope to stop doing!  He is asking me to be bold for Him and to tell you of His great longing to be trusted.  By each and every one of us.  So, as a response to His call, I would like to share my journal entry with you about my experience at the foot of the Cross.

I begin here because it is when everything changed for me. I got it. God loves us and it hurts Him beyond our wildest imagination that we neither love nor trust Him. There are many, many writings I will share with you before this time and a few after, but I have never been more convicted than at the foot of the Cross.

 February 23, 2012 - 8:44pm

I just came in from outside.  I was looking for the moon as Fr. Scott suggested, but I found Jesus instead.  Jesus hanging on the Cross, in the cold, dark night.  I stood under Him and saw the space between His back and the Cross.  I saw His elbow and his stretched shoulder joints.  I saw the nail penetrating His foot, but I could not see His face in the shadow.  His chest seemed to rise and fall just once to remind me that before He died on the Cross, He was alive on the Cross.  Alive and in agony - forgiving us.  How can I fail to trust Him?!  He gave everything.  Not just in a moment, but in thousands of suffering moments.
He did all of that for love.  He asks that we trust Him.  There was NOTHING more He could do.  If we still don't trust Him, what recourse does He have?
Oh, sweet Jesus, please forgive our lack of trust.  You have proven your love.  Help us to prove ours. 
You have suffered so much already.  I shudder at the thought of adding more pain because I'm telling you that your sacrifice wasn't enough.
Please, let me never forget the sight of your naked body hanging on your Cross in the shadows.
Please, don't hide Your face from me.  I love you.

That is the end of the journal entry. It occurred to me later that this was the first time I ever REALLY saw Jesus’ body on the cross.  I wear Him around my neck.  I see Him at Mass and every time I walk in and out of a room.  But, He’s always “over there” or behind the altar.