Swimsuit Season

Swimsuit Season – May 5, 2012

I spent a good part of the last two days looking for a new swimming suit.  I’m frustrated and disgusted at the many, many skimpy choices and the almost non-existent selection of suits that you don’t have to worry about falling out of or waxing your bikini line.  I want to be comfortable in the water and toting my kids around.  I want to be able to bend over, or sit, or lie down without worrying about what somebody is going to see if they’re sitting at the right angle.   

Men are visual creatures.  I do not want to lead a man into the sin of lust because he can see me in my bra and underwear (basically).  Nor do I want other women leading my husband into this sin.  Out of respect for God, myself, my husband, other wives and their husbands, I don’t want to wear a swimming suit that screams “Look at me!”  Granted, I don’t want to be frumpy, either.  But, where is the happy medium here?! 

I am basically happy with my body size and shape, but the lack of modesty in swimming suits is becoming a cross for me.  For women who struggle with their weight or body image, I can only imagine.  We can’t keep our eyes closed (we have kids to watch, after all).  Should we just stay home?  A hot Texas summer with kids and no pool?  This option is too hot to even think about.  

If you’re with me on this, I propose we take a minute to inventory what we’ve got for swimwear.  Ask yourself, “What message am I sending by wearing this?”  If it’s not the message you want to send, maybe you can throw a t-shirt and some board shorts on over it.  In the meantime, I’ll be looking for the perfect modest (but, sporty) suit. 

Dear God, please help us understand the need for modesty.  Please give us the desire for it.  It is hard, Lord.  We want to be attractive because we want to be loved.  Please convict us of your love, that we may not clamor for it in unsuitable ways.  We are surrounded by a world that worships the human body.  It is one of your most awesome creations.  You have made it the temple of the Holy Spirit.  Help us to treat it with the respect it deserves, not as if it is a commodity or something to flaunt.  We are more than our bodies.  As Blessed Pope John Paul II says, “The problem with pornography is not that it shows too much of the human person, it shows too little.”  

Thank you for our bodies, Lord.  Thank you for allowing us to use them to express our souls; To make visible what is invisible.  Please help us to honor You by respecting them.  Amen.    

Vanity

This is a  long post and one I would rather not make, but is essential for soul-baring.  When you join Regnum Christi, you learn about root sin.  Fr. Jonathan Morris discusses root sin briefly in his book, The Promise.  There are three.  Pride - Putting your security and self-esteem in yourself (Easily annoyed with those who contradict.  Given to anger and impatience).  Vanity - Putting your security and self-esteem in others (People-pleaser).  Sensuality - Putting your security and self-esteem in feelings and comforts (Feelings rule the day).  We all have some of each of these, but chances are we have one that is predominant.  For me, after some serious soul-searching, I realized that vanity infiltrated everything I did.  Not the mirror-gazing variety (although, not guilt-free in this department, either), but being motivated by what other people think.

In Imitation of Christ, Thomas a Kempis says "So long as a man is foolishly pleased with himself, to You (God) he is only displeasing; so long as he covets the good opinion of men, he is depriving himself of true virtue."  Jesus says to him, "You must not let your peace of mind depend on what people say about you.  The construction they put on your actions may be correct or false; that doesn't make a different man of you.  Where will you find true peace, real glory?  It is in me, as you well know.  The man who is neither bent upon pleasing his fellows nor afraid of offending them will enjoy great peace.  It is from affections allowed to run wild and from baseless fears that all disquiet of heart arises..."

With that, I'll share two journal entries from last year when I first started trying to figure this whole thing out.

March 16th, 2011 -

Dear Lord, please help me.  I want to be a light to souls and stir them up for you.  I want them to think about you and praise you and thank you, Lord.  In my attempt to share my tiny glimpse of you (I shared an email with one of my reflections), what started as an effort born of pure intention quickly became an email-checking frenzy after I shared it...waiting to see if anyone was touched or moved in any way.  I still believe my eagerness is for a soul moved closer to You, its source, but if that is true, why do I become so impatient?  I just want to be a tool for you, but I don't know if I'm being effective unless people tell me.  Is it prideful to share my thoughts on You?  Is it self-important?  I don't know if my thoughts are gifts from You and thus should be shared or if they are my own and thus should be kept to myself.  You have told me before that your plans will be clear to me, maybe I should keep quiet until then?

Please show me where I am sinning, Lord.  I'm trying to take my blinders off, but I need your help.  Please, also, show me how I can best serve You.  I love you.  Amen.
March 23, 2011 -
I'm still trying to figure out if I'm vain or not...Today, as I was washing my car, I noticed I would look up every time a car passed by.  Why?  I think I want to know if they notice me or not.  I think I feel special/different when people notice me.  I don't think I care so much what they think about me.  Okay--if it is not their good opinion I'm after, then it is the feelings of being preferred or set apart somehow...that has to be pride!  So:
PRIDE - motherhood, impatience, wanting to be preferred
VANITY - motherhood, house
Since writing these entries, I realized that my vanity (commonly) manifested itself in my relationship with my husband and those closest to me.  I realized that in my marriage, I would do anything to have my husband think well of me.  This was fine with him.  I would go out of my way to keep him comfortable.  I would avoid conflict by trying to keep the kids quiet and the house clean, and not encourage him in his spiritual growth.  Why?  For love?  Sadly, no.  For fear.  Fear of being seen in a negative light. 
So, with God's grace, a clarifying discussion with my spiritual director, a long month of feeling like my husband was an obstacle on my pathway to holiness, and wondering "What should I be doing differently?!!!", I figured it out.  I needed to continue to love and serve my husband (the same things I was already doing), but for a different reason.  For love.  With purity of intention.
Purity of intention deserves a day of its own, so we'll discuss that tomorrow.
Enjoy this day with your family.  Soak up the time.  Practice the Presence of God.
Peace and Love, Heidi

Jesus and His Sacred Heart - On Clearance

Yesterday, I was at the grocery store and stopped by the clearance rack, like I always do.  Often, I find something great that I would normally buy anyway.  However, what I found yesterday was the best (and worst) most unexpected find, yet.  The cart was overflowing with candles.  What's this?!  A candle with Our Lady of Guadalupe on it.  What's this?!  A candle with my Jesus on it!  My Jesus and His Sacred Heart!  For $0.75.  At first, I was thrilled at the idea that I could own these candles for next to nothing.  I bought all of the Mary candles (for our upcoming Ladies Brunch) and called a friend to see if she could come and rescue the remaining Jesus candles from that cart!  Indeed, she went right away and bought all they had.

After the thrill of finding such a great buy, a more somber truth settled in.  Paying $0.75 for something with Jesus' image on it is more than I pay for Jesus, himself!  (Take a minute, and let that sink in).  Jesus is the only thing in this life where the real thing costs less than a replica!  We pay nothing for our salvation in Jesus Christ.  He paid it all.  We pay nothing.  Not a single penny.

My next thought was one of sadness.  Jesus (and His mother) should not be in the clearance cart!!  Why were there so many Jesus candles "leftover"?  Didn't anybody want them?  Is it because they already have enough images of Him in their home or because His image doesn't mean anything to them?  If they're  thinking anything at all, is it "What's up with the heart on fire?"  "That's just weird." 

In the Diary of St. Faustina, Jesus says, "The flames of mercy are burning Me.  I desire to pour them out upon human souls.  Oh, what pain they cause Me when they do not want to accept them!"

When I first read this, I wilted inside.  We are hurting Jesus, even more than the pain He suffered during His Passion and Crucifixion, because we do not trust Him and accept His mercy!!   "My child, all your sins have not wounded My Heart as painfully as your present lack of trust does - that after so many efforts of My love and mercy, you should still doubt My goodness."

Oh, Jesus.  Please don't lose patience with us.  Please give us the grace to recognize our distrust and the grace to overcome it.  Please show us how to accept your mercy.  Please show us how to love and trust You, more.  Lord, this is the only return that You ask for, that we receive what You died to give us.  Please give us the grace to desire this more than anything and then please show us how to live it.  I love You and I trust in You.  Amen.

We Are Called...To Be Deep-Sea Divers?!

An excerpt from Consoling the Heart of Jesus by Michael Gaitley on looking for and finding the good in others:

"In overcoming temptations to go from the merciful to the judgmental outlook, it's good to be like a deep-sea diver who searches for sunken treasure.

...Most of the time, I think our responsibility lies in deep-sea diving...such a diver knows there's treasure down there, and he goes for it.

In the saints, no diving is necessary...a volcano of love erupted in them and became a beautiful tropical island that displays its abundant treasure right there on the sun swept beach.

In most of us, however, the treaure is still underwater, and it may even be lying on the ocean floor.  But, it's down there, and its worth diving for.  We need not fear the murky water (the hardness of heart) nor pay attention to the sea monsters (the other's annoying personality traits).  If the sharks come out (meanness or certain kinds of inappropriateness), we don't have to stay (and sometimes we shouldn't), but the little bites from the other sea monsters are nothing compared to the delight that comes from finding the treasure that lies on the ocean floor."

Dear God, Thank you for visuals.  Thank you for seeing the treasure within us.  Please give us the grace to "go deep" for others when we need to.  Lord, help us develop this holy habit.  Help us leave our judgment behind and persevere in our treasure hunt.  We know that You are ultimately the Treasure we will find.  Help us find You, Lord, in every person we encounter.  Amen.

"It Is Your Job to Pick Up the Plates"

Today, I'm sharing an entry from last year.   You can probably relate.  If not, you are probably grateful you cannot.  A lot has changed in one year, but my prayer at the end is still the same.  I must not think of things I don't like to do as things I shouldn't have to do!  Lord, help me.  Amen.

March 22, 2011 – Paper Plates 

Hmm…Thoughts on staying home…Just returned from KS yesterday.  I’m always so relieved to be home, and on a high the first night, just to be back in my own space.  However, the reality settles in the next morning.  I am at the mercy of my kids all day.  My house is neither clean, nor my kids easy to please.  It seems like almost everything I do is for them, but the only feedback I get is whining or complaining.  Get Wyatt dressed, make breakfast, work out (and feel so blessed to be able to do so), Wyatt down for a nap, do laundry, fix lunch, clean up lunch, go to airport to watch airplanes, grocery store, Wyatt down for second nap, pick up Bman from school, more laundry, clean kitchen, make dinner, baths, stories, and bed. 

We stopped by to see Brett at Disaster City (his workplace) since we were so close, as we were already at the airport.  He comes out of a crowded office building with so much going on.  I can tell we are interrupting him, but he is pleasant anyway.  Sometimes, I wish I had the immediate gratification of completing a job and making someone happy because I did so.  However, today it was like this…I pick up all of the paper plates on the floor and put them away, go to the bathroom, only to find plastic baggies everywhere, because of course Wyatt can’t put them back in the box he pulled them all out of!  It’s funny that when I leave the house, I forget there will be paper plates all over the kitchen floor when I return, because Wyatt got them all out again.  I just can’t seem to do a job and not have it undone, sometimes even before I finish.  It kills my motivation a little.  Okay, a lot.

I fantasize about a clean house and having more time to myself.  I know, I know.  It goes quickly.  Not in the span of a day, it doesn’t. 

I remind myself that God is my boss and I am living to please him.  Make sure my husband feels loved and respected.  Be kind to my kids.  Make sure they are clothed and fed and safe.  This is my means for sanctification.  Oh, Lord, please help me do it with a joyful heart.  I know how blessed I am, but that doesn’t seem to keep me from getting tired of picking up paper plates!

8:39pm - After reflecting on this as I was washing up supper dishes, I heard my Boss say, “It is your job to pick up the plates.”  I felt laughter and peace, thinking about this gentle correction.  He’s right.  Motherhood is not all parks and zoos and picnics.  Sometimes it is picking up 15 paper plates off of the kitchen floor several times a day (or moving them higher once.  But, he enjoys it so much, I reason).  Whatever it takes to keep my home and my family functioning well, is my job.  I’m sure I could execute this Mother role perfectly with perfect joy, if only I could be confident I am doing God’s will at each step. I must not think of things I don’t like to do as things I shouldn’t have to do!  Lord, help me.  Amen.

Is It Fair?

My post from yesterday on receiving the gift of faith from our parents (or not) has me thinking about what is fair and how it all works out in the end...

Is it fair that one person owns 3 homes and another lives in a mission because they can't afford rent?  Is it fair that one woman has a healthy baby and another has a special needs child and another never able to conceive at all?  Is it fair that one child lives with two parents who love and dote on him and another lives with his grandparents because his parents are in rehab or jail?  Is it fair that one family eats an extravagant dinner while another serves them and cleans their dishes?  Is it fair that a 6-year-old can play Mozart on the piano when another can't squeak out a note on the oboe when he's a senior?  Is it fair that one couple zips around the lake on their new boat while another fishes from the bank hoping to catch their supper?  Is it fair that a boy is a naturally gifted football player and his brother can't bring him water without falling down?  Is it fair that some people have travelled all over the world and some have never been out of their home town?  Is it fair that one person receives the gift of faith from their parents and another has to spend their whole life in search of it?  Is it fair that Jesus Christ never sinned, yet He suffered and died for sin?  Is it fair that we get to use His sacrifice to get to Heaven?

According to The American Heritage Dictionary, the definition that is most appropriate to our discussion states "just to all parties, equitable".  Equitable?  "Marked by or having equity; just or impartial".  Just?  "Consistent with what is morally right".

Is anything in life fair?!  I think the world would reply loudly, with great emotion, and in unison, "No, life is definitely not fair!"

If God is merciful and just, how can this be?!! 

Let us consider what He tells us in Isaiah 55:8-11.

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord.  As high as the heavens are above the earth, so high are my ways above your ways and my thoughts above your thoughts.  For just as from the heavens the rain and snow come down and do not return there till they have watered the earth, making it fertile and fruitful, giving seed to him who sows and bread to him who eats, So shall my word be that goes forth from my mouth; It shall not return to me void, but shall do my will, achieving the end for which I sent it."

God's word, and consequently everything that He wills or permits, will not return to Him void.  He has said so.  What is fair is that He gives us everything we need to achieve salvation (seed to the sower and bread to him who eats). What is fair is that all discrepancies and injustices will achieve the end for which He sent them.  Our salvation.

St. Teresa of Avila has something to say about getting stuck in this quagmire of unfairness.  "You should run a thousand miles from such expressions as: 'I was right.  They had no reason to do this to me.  The one who did this to me was wrong.'  God, deliver us from this poor way of reasoning.  Does it seem to be right that our good Jesus suffered so many insults and was made to undergo such injustice?"

Lord, please give us the grace to believe in Your justice and mercy.  We cannot do this without your help.  Help us keep our eyes on Heaven and not too much time looking around here on earth.  This is not our destination.  Thank you for preparing a place for us.  A place where we will be grateful for everything in our earthly lives because it brought us to You.  Amen.

The Years Are Short. The Days Are Long.

Today's post is my journal entry from a year and a half ago.  I am sharing it today because a friend of mine picked up my little 3-year-old Wyatt yesterday (she doesn't have any grandkids, so she has adopted mine) and I haven't seen him in almost 24 hours.  He'll be back this afternoon, but I miss him!  The following list of "Things I hate" seems so pale in comparison to the "things I love".

Dear God, Thank you for toddlers (and children of all ages).  Thank you for letting them grow up.  Thank you for giving us this sure means to sanctity.  Thank you for friends who give me a chance to miss my kids.  Thank you for giving us so many chances to get it right.  Thank you for the gift of time.  Amen.

December 8, 2010  - 8:42am 

Just put Wyatt down.  Walker is watching Wall-E.  I feel like I need to purge my brain of all of the things I hate about having a toddler, so I can embrace the things I love and focus on them instead.  I hate being screamed at first thing in the morning, over and over, and over…Mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy.  Quiet and peacefulness seem to evade me at every turn.  I long for quietude.  I hate it when I’ve stapled something and laid it on the desk to return minutes later to find it ripped apart already.  I hate it that whenever the garage door is unlocked, he is outside in a New York minute.  I hate it when he says a word over and over and over again, and when I finally offer it to him (juice, milk, cucumber, cracker, bear, etc.) he screams “no” and turns his head the other way.  I hate it when I give him something to eat and he squishes it up in his fingers (bananas seem to be perfect for this), or takes a few bites and spits it out (cucumbers and carrots seem to be perfect for this).  I hate it that he says get out “gout” over and over and over in his car seat and from his booster at the kitchen table, only to climb up in another seat and reach for something he’s not supposed to have.  I hate it that I put him in the van with 2 minutes until departure and he spilled altoids everywhere, buried the garage door remote control, and locked us out of the van.  Thank God for spare keys!  As Walker so brilliantly pointed out “I wonder how he got in there?”  Good point.  I hate it when I’ve just put all of the books in the bookshelf, and he pulls them right back out again.  I hate it when he won’t eat or stay in his high chair, especially at a restaurant.  I hate it when I give him something and he throws it on the ground or hits it out of my hand.  I hate pacing the house, looking for his bear at bedtime, when I’m already tired.  I hate having to leave Brayton’s field trip early, because he runs off or gets into trouble when he’s put down and wriggles and resists when held.  I hate the way he pulls at his hat and says “off” when it is 32 degrees outside and I need him to leave it on.  I hate the way his hands freeze on the bike ride to school because he won’t leave his mittens on.  I hate the constant messes.  Ahhhh.  That feels better. 

I love holding him on my lap in the morning when he eats his cereal from a cup and drinks his milk.  He sits so still.  I love it when he says “Amen” when we sit down to eat.  I love rocking him at naptime and bedtime, reading him stories.  I love it when he is chasing Walker around the house.  I love it when he points at my face and says “eyes, mouth, nose.”  I love to hear him say new words.  I love it when he says “Thank you” for EVERYTHING.  (Thank you, juice.  Thank you, milk.  Thank you, cracker.)  I love it when he says “What are you doing?”  I love watching him play in the bathtub.  I love watching him run, when I am not fearing for his safety (these times are rare – he is usually heading for the street, curb, or some other lurking danger).  I love watching him read books in his room or playing with a train saying “Chugga, chugga” or “choo-choo”, I love the ways he dances to almost any kind of music.  I love it when he whispers “okay” to everything when asked a question, instead of “yes”.  I love it when we tell knock-knock jokes, and he says “Who’s there?”  I love it when he laughs, just because everyone else is laughing.  I love going in to get him out of his bed (except that first time in the morning when he has been screaming my name, repeatedly), and looking at that big smile on his face.  I love the way he nestles in, after just waking up.  I love watching his little hands put a helmet on a LEGO guy.  I love the way he totes his little bear around and kisses it constantly (until it is my job to look for it).  I love the way he says “Boo!” when he walks into a room or to the stranger in the grocery aisle.  I love the way he says “What’s that?!!” in an excited whisper when he hears a strange sound.  I love the way we rush outside to see the trash truck doing its thing (who else cares about that?). 

When I find myself fantasizing about “turning him over” to a Mother’s Day Out program for a reprieve, I always return to the thing that keeps me from it…No one loves him as much as I do.  As crazy as he can make me, no one is as concerned about meeting his needs as I am.  The reminders that “This too shall pass” and “Enjoy it, it goes quickly” are often of little comfort in the span of a seemingly endless day.  However, what they say is true.  I shall “begin again” today.  Here we go…