God is good

One of the things I've always loved about nursing an infant is how much time it gives me to read. I think holding a fuzzy-headed baby in my arms while immersed in a good book might just be one of the most pleasurable experiences this world has to offer!

My Lenten sacrifice this year was fiction (TV and books,) and it's bearing some wonderful fruit. I am reading "Calm My Anxious Heart" by Linda Dillow, on the advice of a friend, and finding it extremely insightful. She speaks on the idea of contentment as accepting and working with God's plan for one's life. In this context, she brings up the fact that God is good, and so His plan for us, by definition, is also good.

Which got me thinking about "good" and how we define it. I think we most often use "good" to describe anything that fits with what we personally want for ourselves and our lives. Children are "good" when they do as we ask them to do. Someone has "the good life" if they have money, leisure time, and material things. We even describe food as good when it contains high amounts of fat or sugar, which we enjoy far more than food that is actually good (usually we refer to that kind as "healthy.")

But good, as the Bible defines it, has a very different meaning. It is beautiful and simple, yet profound: God is good. Good is God. Those things which draw us to God are good. Those things God has done or made are good. Goodness and God are one and the same.

I know for many people, the existence of suffering in the world is a barrier to faith. If God is all-powerful, why does He allow bad things to happen? Although I feel very deeply the plight of those who are poor, either in material goods, in spirit, in health or in freedom, I have never blamed God or felt disappointed in His lack of intervention for two main reasons: 1. It's mostly people who cause suffering, either to themselves or to others. and 2. Everything God does is good, thus suffering must also be good.

Part of the reason I love being a Catholic is the Church's position on suffering. It is not meaningless. It it not punishment. It is an opportunity to manifest the love of Christ to the world. When something like the tsunami in Japan occurs, it is an opportunity for the world to show love to Japan. God does not desire pain and suffering, but this world that He created contains those things. It contains disease, death, tectonic plates that shift around, wild animals, destructive weather patterns...all these things are GOOD because they are part of the world God created. Plate tectonics are a result of the transfer of energy from within the Earth. We are the only planet yet discovered that supports life -- surely the abundance of life here depends upon all components of physics, geology, astronomy, and other sciences existing in the balance that God created for them.

Here's where my problem comes in. I can intellectually understand the purpose of "bad things" in this world. I can theologically support the notion of redemptive suffering and spiritual growth that comes from accepting God's will, no matter what it might be.

But I'm afraid of suffering and pain. I don't want it. My response to God's call is something like, "Lord, I love you and I will do whatever you ask of me...as long as it doesn't involve profound suffering. I'll take a little suffering, but not anything big, OK?"

I'm ashamed to admit this. I see it as one of the biggest obstacles to my spiritual growth. I've been trying to resolve my anxieties and lack of trust for years now, but I don't seem to be much closer to the goal of abandonment I've set myself. I shouldn't fear the future. After all,

"We know that all things work for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose." Romans 8:28

I think part of the problem is that my life is so easy, suffering seems preventable and unnecessary. It's somewhat counter intuitive, but the closer you are to suffering, the easier it is to accept. When I first discovered I was pregnant last July, I spent three weeks in a constant state of dread and anxiety, wondering if my nausea would be as bad as it had been with my second. Once it became clear that I would be throwing up several times a day, I sort of just accepted it and prepared for the long haul. It wasn't easy, by any means. But the only way out is through. In the same way, it can be more stressful to dread an experience (such as surgery or the adoption process) than to actually go through it.

I hope...no...I am confident that, should the worst befall me or my family, I would not lose faith in God. Rather, I would rely on Him and rest in Him to cope with the pain, emotional or otherwise. In the meantime, I can use those sleepless nights and anxious moments to pray for people who are actually suffering, and I can offer up my anxiety for those with mental illness. Whatever may come, there's no way it could ever be as bad as some of the things people must deal with around the world.

In the spirit of taking the poor with me, I can use my fears to draw closer to those who are in need, and to remind me that I am, truly, very blessed.

Homesickness

No change. Well, that's not entirely true. Overall I am discovering small improvements, like the ability to eat more in one sitting and go longer without food, which really helps me achieve productivity. It's hard to do everything in 30 minute intervals because I had to eat every 45 minutes. But then I still can't have any "real" food, especially after about 4 pm. When I tried to eat some chicken last night at 5 pm, I ended up having a terrible night where I threw up twice and spent hours with my stomach cramping and gurgling dangerously.

It's been hard to figure out what to pray. Jen's recent post on the granularity of prayer has a great explanation of focusing our prayers. Right now, I feel that it's pointless to pray, "Lord, please let this nausea end soon," partly because I don't REALLY want that. If the nausea means my Little Mango is growing and healthy, then good, bring on the nausea. Mostly, though, I feel like it's just going to end in its own time, and praying for it to end sooner is aiming my prayer at the wrong target.

So I've tried to pray, "Lord, give me the strength to endure this with grace." That's slightly better, and I definitely have felt an improvement in my mood and attitude towards this pregnancy. But really, that's a very self-centered prayer. I want God to help me be happy and kind in my suffering so I can gain graces from it and give glory to God. But I'm only 1/5 of the equation here. There are four other people (my husband, my children, and my mother) who are suffering as much as I am, and that prayer doesn't include them.

Mostly, what I do is offer up the suffering rather than praying about it. I know offering up is a form of prayer, so in that sense I am praying, but somehow it feels fundamentally different to say, "Lord, let this suffering go to help those tempted to adultery," than to ask for something for myself.

Still, these are ALL prayers of petition, as outlined here. I am still asking God for something, whether it's for me or not. I've come to realize that a big part of my spiritual dryness right now stems from a lack of a key form of prayer: Adoration.

Because I am trapped at home, I have not been able to attend Mass and bask in the literal presence of God. I have not been listening to K-LOVE as I drive my kids around and run errands. I have not been encountering my friends' stories of God's presence and power in their lives. I haven't even been able to gaze at the mountains in the distance and admire God's creation. I've been missing all my usual sources of adoration, and it shows. I am suffering daily, offering that suffering up, and yet feeling as far from God as I ever have.

I fully understand why monastic communities are careful to balance their days with everything their members need for spiritual nourishment. There are different sorts of prayer times throughout the day: communal worship, honest work, private devotions, study of the Word, and fellowship, all combining in a way that enables each person to receive what they need to continue their vocation. I've cut off a major source of spiritual nourishment, and I am starving.

It became clear to me what the problem was when I did my last Wednesday Fast. Since abstaining from food is not an option, I've been abstaining from TV for the day. That's actually a very difficult sacrifice for me, since I can't read without growing dizzy, I can't move around very much, and I have no major responsibilities. Mostly, I am on the couch, trying to distract myself from the nausea. (In my defense, it's not all Star Trek reruns, though those do factor heavily. I've been watching lots of documentaries on historical figures and science shows on geology and such. After all, I need to have something on the TV that I don't mind my kids staring at, too!) On Wednesdays, though, I deny myself this distraction. Instead, I put on the radio or spend some time sitting outside listening to the birds. And I noticed something remarkable: I felt closer to God even though I felt MORE nauseated. Setting time aside each day for some Adoration is making all the difference.

So I'm trying to be better about reading my blogs and listening to K-LOVE, two forms of Adoration that are available to me at home. And I'm looking forward to the day, a few weeks from now, when I will be better and able to rejoin the community of believers that has been such a source of spiritual strength to me since we moved to Colorado. I miss my parish SO MUCH. That's where I encounter God most forcefully, not only at Mass but through the people I know there. The physical discomfort of my nausea isn't anywhere near the worst aspect of my quarantine. It pales in comparison to the spiritual starvation I've been experiencing as a result of being cut off from the fount of faith that pours out of my Parish. I can't wait to go home again!

Picture credit.

Unexpected Blessings

I am still here. Still very sick. Still unable to read without becoming very dizzy, thus the lack of posts. I literally have nothing to say, too, since my days are just spent surviving the nausea and being grateful that my mom is helping me out.

God is very good to me. The nausea is controlled and I really only suffer between 4 and 5 hours a day. The rest of the time I'm just very uncomfortable, which doesn't even count as suffering because I watch TV or talk to my mom or listen to a book on tape. Given that I suffered with my other two every waking hour, this is practically heaven. Not that I'm enjoying it. Though I am grateful to have something to offer up in the evenings.

And it's amazing how it brings my family together. My mom has been living with us for 6 weeks now (BLESS HER!) and running the house like a whiz. My kids are enjoying a special relationship with her because of this, and she and I have had the chance for many long talks and companionable hours.

Best of all, it's brought about a reconciliation with my father. Our relationship was never easy, and in the past year I decided that I was going to put my foot down and no longer allow myself to be forced into the role of "dutiful daughter" when inside I was anything but. I broached the subject with him over email and didn't make much progress, so I thought to myself, okay...time to put my money where my mouth is. I decided I was going to stop allowing him to visit whenever he wanted to.

Then I got pregnant. And next week, my mom will be taking a break from caring for me. I'll be on my own for 6 days, with no one to drive the kids to school and activities, clean and cook, and bring me soy milk while I throw up. She needs (and deserves) the break, and I don't begrudge it to her, but I literally cannot do anything but sit on the couch and eat with occasional good moments where I can check email and a couple blogs or make a phone call to a friend. I can't cook. I can't drive. I can't take care of my family. I need help.

Knowing this, my dad offered to come for the week my mom is gone. And immediately, my old feelings rose to the surface. Hadn't I decided I was going to put my foot down? Hadn't I decided it was time to stop giving in, so that our relationship could finally move past the unhealthy dynamic we've always had?

When I told him the reason I didn't want him to visit, we had a long conversation. We addressed many of our old issues head on, which I usually shy away from. In the end, we made significant progress.

As I hung up, it occurred to me that this was the moment where I had to decide what type of person I was going to be. If I was truly going to put my money where my mouth is, then I would have to completely forgive everything and begin anew as St. Elizabeth Ann Seton did, as described in this lovely post from Abigail. Or I could hold on to the person I was, my hurts and my judgments, and we'd never be able to move forward.

I have to say, Abigail's post has been rolling around in my heart for a few months now, and St. Elizabeth Ann Seton's example has inspired me. I'm going to pray to my little Elizabeth, named for this wonderful Saint, to give me the strength I need to completely erase my past relationship with my dad and greet him when he comes with the sort of love and open heart that is necessary for true growth and relationship.

God has made me sick and dependent for a reason. Perhaps it's to build my humility. Whatever the reason, I can't make unilateral decisions about my life course. For someone like me, who struggles with wanting to control everything, being forced into a position of utter dependence is a huge challenge for my spiritual growth. I am encouraged, though, that I will receive from it the lessons God wants to write on my heart, and emerge a more faithful and devoted servant to Him whom I love above all.

Picture credit.

May Intentions

The Holy Father's general intention for this month is one of those issues that sits very heavily on my heart. I feel such pain for those poor souls who suffer slavery of any kind, but especially those girls who are kidnapped and kept as prostitutes. I can hardly even think about it, which makes me all the more troubled that there are those who have to do more than think: they must live it.

Our Holy Father prays this month:

That the shameful and monstrous commerce in human beings, which sadly involves millions of women and children, may be ended

.

I have researched this subject quite a bit, and prayed on it, and wondered how I can contribute in my small way to ending this blight on our human soul. While making a donation to an organization that works against human trafficking would be an ideal step, it's something that's very difficult for me to do, given the constraints of my situation. I do have some money, but the amount I'd be able to donate (around $20) seems like a drop in the bucket. I want to do more. It's also the main point of this blog to connect my everyday life to the lives of others, particularly those who are suffering. What can I do, as a SAHM of two children, to help those who are victims of human trafficking?

1. Raise the issue.
Simply as a function of my status as a stay at home mom, most of my conversations with my friends revolves around our kids, our husbands, and local events. I can do my part to make sure people know about the problem of human trafficking. I can mention an article I read in Marie Claire, specify our Holy Father's monthly intention before praying a group Rosary, wear a Common Thread ring or an anti-slavery t-shirt, or suggest my book group read Not For Sale. I can teach my children about slavery, in an age-appropriate manner, and help them understand how fortunate they are to be free. In short, I can look for opportunities given my by the Holy Spirit to share this issue with people who may be interested in learning more. As long as I do not lecture or push the subject past the point that people are willing to listen, there is no gathering where it would not be appropriate to take these poor with me.

2. Promote a Global Identity
The Church has been consistent in Her teaching that social justice is part of our duty as children of God, and also that the makeup of our global society can create situations of great injustice for which we must take responsibility. In other words, our choices here in America affect not only those we come into contact with, but people thousands of miles away whom we will never meet. It is not enough to care for myself and my family, I must care for the whole world. The more I understand about the complex machinery of international trade and globalization, the more I am able to make good choices that promote a culture of respect and preserve the humanity of everyone on Earth. This is a difficult concept to communicate in only a few sentences, but it is the foundation of my worldview and the reason I launched this blog.

3. Promote the Theology of the Body
Here's something more concrete! Many of the victims of human trafficking are young women and girls who are sold into brothels or to individual families as something between a concubine and domestic servant. I can't write here about how heartrendingly awful their lives are. The Marie Claire article in #1 above has a good overview. Sex slaves have been an unfortunate part of the human experience for as long as we have had a history, and it may seem there is very little I can do to change a culture so twisted that it would allow such atrocities. But I can. For one thing, I can use Natural Family Planning. The very nature of NFP is that it asks couples to deny their instinctual yearnings and instead focus their energies on love, mutual sacrifice, and non-sexual intimacy. In conjunction with the Theology of the Body, this teaching promotes the now nearly-laughable idea that men and women can control themselves and that sex is neither a right nor a recreation. We may not have cage brothels in my town, but we certainly have a culture where sex is not valued as it ought to be. My example may help others embrace the concept of self-giving through abstinence. In addition, times of abstinence can be difficult for couples. When it is difficult for me, I can offer up my feelings to God, asking Him to bring comfort, freedom, and healing to a woman trapped in slavery.

4. Promote Education
One of the causes of human trafficking is a lack of opportunity for those in poverty. In many instances, people are promised a job and then taken instead into a life of slavery. Sometimes, families sell their children because they have no other source of income. I have long believed that the key to eradicating poverty and oppression lies in education. It is not only a matter of job-training, although that is critically important, but also in allowing ideas to permeate a culture where, too often, hate and division have been predominant. Donating used books and school materials, volunteering at my kids' schools, and supporting my local library are all good ways that I can promote education right in my own neighborhood.

5. Advocate for Better Laws and Systems
While some aspects of human trafficking can get caught up in other issues, like immigration or reproductive rights, most legislation is thoroughly bipartisan. The Trafficking Victims Protection Act of 2000 passed the Senate unanimously. Catholic Relief Services has an Action Center where you can sign up to receive email alerts when relevant legislation needs your voice. I find it incredibly helpful to read the Bishops' position on pending legislation, not only to inform my conscience with the wisdom of Church teaching, but also because, frankly, I just don't have the time to research all the possible issues myself. Even when the government doesn't act upon our suggestions, we have at least made our position known. The more voices call out for justice, and the louder we shout, the more our elected officials will listen.

6. Pray

We urge you, brethren, admonish the unruly, encourage the fainthearted, help the weak, be patient with everyone. See that no one repays another with evil for evil, but always seek after that which is good for one another and for all people. Rejoice always; pray without ceasing; in everything give thanks; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus.

-- Thessalonians 5: 14-18

PRAYER TO END TRAFFICKING

Lord of freedom and love, we are saddened to know that more than one million people are trafficked into slavery each year.
Our hearts grieve for what our minds can barely comprehend, particularly when we hear of women, men, and children who are deceived and transported to unknown places.
We recognize this sexual and economic exploitation occurs because of human greed and profit.
We are sorrowful and our spirits angry that human dignity is being degraded through deception and threats of force.
Help the violators to be transformed and enlightened to realize the scope of their unjust actions.
Allow them to see the value and the dignity of every human person.
Lord of Life, strengthen those whose hearts have been broken and lives have been uprooted.
Give us the light, grace, and courage to work with you so that we can all participate in the goodness of creation.
Fill us with the wisdom and courage to stand in solidarity with the victims so that we may all enjoy the freedoms and rights which have their source in your Son and our Lord Jesus Christ.

-- Adapted from Franciscans International and a prayer by Sr. G. Cassani, SSND

If you wish to learn more, or if you feel moved to help financially or otherwise, you can also visit the following websites dedicated to fighting human trafficking.

The Polaris Project: http://www.polarisproject.org/
The Somaly Mam Foundation: http://www.somaly.org/
Human Trafficking: http://www.humantrafficking.org
Catholic Relief Services: http://crs.org/public-policy/trafficking.cfm
The Human Trafficking Project: http://traffickingproject.blogspot.com/
Franciscans International: http://www.franciscansinternational.org/
International Justice Mission: http://www.facebook.com/InternationalJusticeMission (main page not loading for me, so I'm linking to their Facebook site) Thanks, Ruthanne!!
Project Exodus: www.project-exodus.org (Thanks, Tami!)

I keep waiting for some clarity or closure to come to me with this so I can write a decent post, but nothing's coming yet. So I figure perhaps I'm being called just to post raw, without any nice revelations to share.

Little Acorn was not a miscarriage. After a week of bleeding my hormone levels were still registering pregnant, but they weren't doubling every few days like they would in a normal, healthy pregnancy. They did an ultrasound and confirmed an ectopic pregnancy in my right fallopian tube.

They'd suspected it for a while, since just about the only thing that would cause those sustained, low, puttering hormone levels was a pregnancy that had implanted outside the uterus, but I wanted firm proof before doing anything about it. For three days I prayed for a miracle, received the Anointing of the Sick, and called in every friend and family member to pray for me. Then I went in for my ultrasound and they told me my uterus was empty. It didn't even have enough lining to support life. The doctor said there was "nothing going on in there." I asked to see the ultrasound, and they showed me the white ring and dark blotches around it and said that was her.

I say "her" not because we have any idea of her gender, but because I felt the name Elizabeth so strongly in my heart while carrying her. I started bleeding on the feast of St. Elizabeth Ann Seton, and I prayed for her intercession and promised to name the baby after her. I love the name, and with it comes a sense of the baby as a girl. So that's what I'm going with.

They gave me two shots, one in each hip, which didn't hurt as much as they said it would. I collected my kids and went home. I cried, of course, and felt deep sadness. I explained it to my kids, and my six-year-old showed remarkable understanding. My three-year-old thought the shots were to make the baby get well, since that's what I tell her vaccinations are for. She took a while to get it, but hasn't shown any reaction, for which I'm grateful.

I, on the other hand, have only felt worse and worse as the days go by. For the first week or so I had nightmares about finding Elizabeth, tiny, tiny, tiny, on the floor of the bathroom and putting her in a safe place in the cupboard. I had one where I gave birth and she opened her eyes. She was smaller than my palm and looked nothing like a baby, but I was just so elated that she was still alive and I could take care of her. I put her up against my heart, but then the next time I looked down, she had died.

I feel so much worse than when I thought I was miscarrying. I don't know if that's because of the circumstances of this situation -- where I had to actually let the doctors harm her rather than simply waiting on the will of God. Or perhaps it's because even while miscarrying, there was still such strong hope in me that the baby would somehow make it (hope supported by the many people who told me stories of how they or their mother or their sister or their friend had bleeding early on and still had a healthy baby.) Then when I had the shots, I felt everything just got taken away from me so quickly and came to such an abrupt and horrible end. I know a big part of it is the hormones and their dastardly fluctuations. Part of it is guilt, too. I feel like I didn't fight for her hard enough, though I know there's nothing I could have done.

But mostly it's just that I feel so terrible that she had to die. I pray, and all that comes to me is, "I'm so, so sorry, Elizabeth."

And part of me can't help but wonder...was it God's will that we both die? It's not always a certainty that the mother dies when an ectopic pregnancy ruptures the tube, but it's very dangerous and can cause infertility if it's not fatal. Have I thwarted God's will for me? Did He intend this to end my fertility or bring my soul to Him? I know in my mind that the Church encourages the use of medicine and does not ascribe to the idea that the only healing possible must come from God. But I wonder...and my heart is troubled.

I think of the poor. If I were a mother in Sudan or rural Bangladesh, or under a fundamentalist regime where women have limited access to doctors, I might not have known about the ectopic pregnancy until it was too late for both of us. In another age or place, they might not have been able to do anything about it. Should I count myself fortunate to live in America, with conscientious doctors and good insurance coverage?

I don't feel fortunate. I feel awful.

I miss Elizabeth.

Looking Beyond "Can't"

I'm working on figuring out a private budget based on a 10% tithe. I've been so frustrated and bewildered by how on earth I can possibly save enough money for a tithe when, based on the arrangement we have for giving to charity, only a quarter of what I save will actually go to the Church (the rest is for savings and my husbands charities.) When I figured it out, (and it's very possible my math is wrong here) I'd have to save more than I spend. I honestly can't do it; it's not a matter of better budgeting. It's just impossible.

But I think perhaps I've been going about it backwards. I don't need to actually put that amount of money into the Parish envelope each month. I don't even have to actually save that amount. What I need to do is develop a lifestyle with the tithe at the base so that we live at a Godly means.

Instead of thinking, "I just can't do it," I must think, "What can I do?" If lowering my food budget by $100 a month gets me closer to that tithe, then that's something I can do. If buying a duvet cover instead of a new comforter for the guest room gets me closer to a thithe, then that's something I can do, too. Rather than feeling overwhelmed and frustrated by my limitations, I need to concentrate instead on the small things I can do on my journey to full stewardship.

That mantra has hit home in a big way in regards to a family situation I'm encountering. Right now I am boiling over with indignation and my gut instinct is to cut off all communication with this one family member. Permanently. When I think about the Christian commandment to show love and compassion, I think, "I just CAN'T do it!" I absolutely cannot love this person now. Can. Not. Do. It.

So, what can I do?

1. I can pray for them.
I don't want to. This person has caused extreme suffering to those I love, entirely through their own weakness, selfishness, and poor choices. I'd rather pray for the soul of Natalia Estemirova and the situation in Chechnya. There are people dying from hunger who better deserve my prayers. My friend with four children and one on the way is moving this week and needs my prayers, as does another friend who's been trying to conceive for years, and another friend whose husband may quit his job. I'd like to pray for my online friends, whose situations are no less dear to me despite our never having met in person.

Unfortunately, I'm not a Carmelite. So I can't pray for everything I want to and also be present with my family. Wouldn't my prayers be better spent on someone who deserves it?

Short answer: no. Though that's how I feel, I know it's not the way God works. And it's a darn good thing He's rather more merciful than I, or we'd all be in a boat-load of trouble.

2. I can be kind to them.
There's no need to write angry emails. There's no need to trash them verbally in front of my kids or the rest of the family. I don't think I'll be able to have a conversation over the phone or anything, but if the situation comes up I can simply say, "Now is not a good time. I'll have to get back to you."

That's enough to start on, I think. Anything else seems beyond me right now. I can pray for guidance, wisdom and the intervention of the Holy Spirit for myself, as I've been doing. And in the meantime I can concentrate on eating down my pantry, because with this new budget it looks like my grocery shopping is pretty much done for the month except for milk, bananas and grapes. It's not at all a problem, though. Thanks to Costco I could probably feed six people on corn chips alone!

God Bless.

Photo credit.

Working towards humility

My Lenten observance this year is difficult to define and even more difficult to put into practice. I'm trying to give up attachment to my opinion. As with every sacrifice I make, it seems to underscore just how often I indulge myself.

At first I struggled with how to talk to people (family especially.) A conversation does not consist of one person sharing while the other makes noncommittal "listening noises." (Well, not real conversations anyway!) Nor can I simply phrase my opinion as a leading question, "Aren't you worried about the ethics of that course of action?" is just a fancy way of saying, "I don't think what you're doing is right." So I've been trying very hard to strike a balance that doesn't leave me nodding along or repeating whatever has just been said to me, but that lets the other person lead the conversation and elevates their thoughts above my own.

The exception to this comes in cases where matters of theology or virtue are at stake. I consider it my duty to voice my opinion to defend the Church, for instance, or provide a counter to the destructive viewpoints of the pro-choice, anti-God movements I encounter in my daily life. To be silent here, to fail to vigorously defend the position of Truth, is a missed opportunity to draw others into deeper reflection of the issues. But since it's not really my opinion (it is the Truth) I feel confident God does not want me to refrain from sharing.

I feel that God has been speaking to me lately, though, and saying something that I don't like to hear. "Your way is not My way." I feel a bit like Peter must have when he protested that Jesus could never fall into the hands of His enemies, and Christ rebukes him with "Get behind me, Satan!" I remember when my sister was in college and we were on the phone together, at one point in the conversation she interrupted me and said, "I don't need to you defend me to mom and dad. I can speak my own mind." As an older sister, I had been interfering and attempting to protect her from getting into trouble. But she was telling me that doing so was actually harming her, because instead of viewing her as a unique person with the ability to make her own choices and express herself, I was relegating her to the position of a small child that had no individual autonomy.

Lesson learned. I didn't defend her again, and she has proven herself to be quite a different person, one who has the courage of her own convictions and is proud of the way she lives her life.

There's something of the same feeling within me as I'm listening to God, and a strong confusion as to how I change. I am an interfering busybody. Period. I have always been this way. It stems from my desire to be helpful, but what it actually is is a form of narcissism. I can do it best, these people need me, I have to wade in and solve this problem. If only they would just listen to the wisdom I have to share, things would be so much better.

It's precisely this quality that annoys me in other people, and yet I am now very clearly seeing that I do it, too. (Isn't that what they say, that you dislike the qualities in other people that remind you of yourself?) It's the reason why I chose silence as my Lenten sacrifice, because the hardest thing in the world for me to do is NOT speak when I have something to say.

It's really coming home to me in a major way right now, because my parents' marriage is completely falling apart. Communication is nonexistent, people are talking about the D-word, lawyers are being consulted and finances are being split.

My brain is screaming at me to get my parents on the phone and tell them exactly what I think they need to do to save their marriage. I would say it lovingly, of course. My brain really and truly thinks this is a good idea, because they "needs to hear it."

My heart and my Lenten promise say otherwise. In speaking with friends about the issue, their wisdom is shining through: this is not my place, this is not my fight. My parents are autonomous adults who must come to their own decisions.

I am about to get on a plane and spend a week there with the kids. I cannot convey to you the fear and dread that is upon me at the thought. I am weak. Weak weak weak weak weak and undisciplined. I know I am entirely ill-equipped for this challenge God has placed before me. And that is the crux of humility. I must acknowledge that I cannot do this. Only God can do this within me.

I want to fulfill my Lenten promise. And even more, I want to grow in humility, recognizing that my thoughts do not need to be shared and that my role in life is not mediatrix extraordinaire. God does not need me to fix my parents marriage. If God is going to heal my parents marriage, He will do it without me. He will certainly have an easier time of it if I refrain from insulting my parents by forcing my opinion upon them.

It will not be easy for me to stay uninvolved. In fact, it may be impossible. My open, honest, European parents hide nothing from me. Nor have I ever been able to hide anything from their direct and deliberate questions.

I have been praying for them every day. I need to be praying for myself as well: praying that I will be humble and small, quiet and noninterfering, that I will allow God to do His own work. If anything, I think He wants me to love my parents, to show Christ's acceptance of the sinner rather than His judgment. I'm certainly not qualified to judge, anyway, with my own list of sins a mile long.

Please pray for me, and for my family.

Sweatshops vs Prostitution

An excellent post on Vox Nova (by Katerina Ivanova on the difficulty in finding clothing that is made sustainably) contains an interesting thread of comments by people debating the repercussions of fighting sweatshop labor.

For the record, I don't agree with arguments like "But if they close the sweatshops all those people will be out of work and forced to turn to prostitution or starve!" From a wider perspective (a Catholic perspective) both slave/sweatshop labor and prostitution are equally evil and unjust. But opposing sweatshop labor is a step towards moral good: an economic society which pays its employees a fair wage. Doing nothing, or allowing sweatshops to continue as the "lesser of two evils," only perpetuates the status quo.

Each of us as individuals are morally obligated to do what we can and taking concrete, life-changing action. Yes, companies will close their sweatshops if they are told they can no longer operate them. And then what will the company do? Will they simply stop making clothes? Maybe. Or maybe they will open an sustainable, ethical shop somewhere else. Eventually (as is ALREADY happening) companies will realize the eyes of the world are on them. Companies CAN make clothing without sweatshops, so it's false to claim that denying them the opportunity to use sweatshops will destroy the industry. If all manufacturers are unable to operate while exploiting their workers, they will be forced to employ fair labor practices.

Take the United States as an example. We had child labor, slave labor, unsafe working conditions, hazardous factories dumping deadly chemicals into waterways...you name it, we've done it (and in some cases still are.) But overall, companies who operate in America comply with fair labor practices because the public and the government demands it. This has been the progression of the fair labor movement; it is the ultimate goal -- not to force one company or one country to operate effectively, but to create a society where exploitative labor is unacceptable. The most important step towards that is awareness. Without transparency, companies can flout public mores with impunity. This is partly why I consider the media (and journalism in particular) the most powerful tool for change.

The second step rests with us, the public. We must demand that companies find ways to operate ethically. It is a tragedy that this will result in the temporary worsening of many people's living conditions. The only way to mitigate such damage is to Take the Poor With You. Boycott unethical companies by refusing to buy their products. Go to that wedding in an old dress. And with the money you would have spent, contribute to charitable organizations that assist the poor and unemployed in countries affected by the boycott.

Thousands of soldiers and civilians died during World War II to rid the world of the Nazis. Pacifists might argue that since people were dying either way, the deliberate taking of another life could not be morally justified. But the Catholic principle of just war declares that it can. We must declare just war on oppression wherever we find it, even if it means engaging in what would otherwise be considered a great evil.

I believe if the greater good is being served and society is moving towards equity, justice, freedom and sustainability, then the evils that may come as part of the change are not only justified, they are in fact moral.

Self-Indulgences

I have been MIA these past months from a combination of writer's block, emotional frustration and personal crises. Everyone is mostly healthy now (my son broke his arm in early May and has been sick since mid-June with a nasty stomach bug that just won't.go.away and which everyone else has shared) and we're past all the big events that have taken so much of my time (trips to visit family, planning my son's 5th birthday party, and houseguests.)

My heart has been stilted for a while now. I'm trying to keep busy so I don't think about the constraints that keep me from acting as I wish to, but every now and then something reminds me and I'm upset all over again. On Thursday evening I was making dinner when the phone rang. Our alma mater was calling to thank us for the generous gift we gave them.

I said, "Oh. Sure, no problem." and then asked my husband if we had given them something. Yep. $20. I know it's not much, but according to his arguments, we can't afford ANYTHING for charity right now. I wish I could say I accepted the news with grace, went off and prayed about it, then respectfully discussed the matter with him a few days later. But instead I snapped, "Then you won't mind if I give $20 to our Church building fund, will you?"

I still wonder if I'm doing the right thing by doing nothing. There's always another financial setback (our insurance company just raised our deductible from $300 per person to $4,000 because of all our trips to the ER in the last couple months) and it just doesn't seem to me that my husband has any incentive to change his thinking. We are further from being able to adopt and give to charity than we were when I began this blog a year ago, yet I've been praying daily, offering up my Masses and sacrificing my own principles for the sake of our marriage.

Trust. The theme of every message I've gotten recently comes down to one simple fact: I am not trusting God to perform a miracle for me. I still think there's something I need to be doing, or saying, to convince my husband to my position. It might take years for his heart to be softened, and in the meantime I absolutely cannot be nagging, prodding, complaining or whining.

I just wish that it didn't hurt so much. That I didn't start crying any time someone even so much as says "Africa." That passing the empty basket at Church didn't cause me physical pain. That I didn't have to throw out every envelope from Save the Children, St. Jude's Hospital, Save Darfur, Samaritan's Purse...

In conversation with a friend the other day, it became clear that God is asking me for concrete sacrifices dedicated to my husband's conversion. I'm incredibly self-indulgent. When my alarm goes off in the morning, I press snooze for half an hour. I snack constantly. I'm on the computer a hundred times a day. I sometimes skip prayer to watch TV. I wallow in self-pity and bad moods, show all my emotions as soon as they appear, rant and complain more than I care to admit, and generally indulge every whim.

I'm willing to make sacrifices for the poor. Why not for God and my husband?

I've decided to start small. Getting up when my alarm goes off. (I call it "Sit up for Jesus!" and that's what I say silently to myself every morning. "Sit up for Jesus, Tienne. Sit up!") Fasting from one meal a week. Limiting myself to one serving size of desert after a meal.

I'm hopeful these little sacrifices will strengthen my will and fit me for the trials to come. Conventional wisdom says things will get worse before they get better. Mary, my model, be with me and guide me. Shower me, God, with strength. Amen.

What I Need Most

I am on my second round of antibiotics for a sore throat that has been with me on and off for three weeks now. The whole family has been sick with it, but even so the tenacity and virulence of this bug is pretty amazing.

The first round did its job well, or so I thought, but while visiting my mom last week the soreness came back with a vengeance. My parents' good friend, who is staying with them, suggested we pray over my throat and I happily agreed. I believe in healing. I know if God wanted to, He could have rid me of that sore throat in that very instant.

But for some reason He never wants to. I remember when I was suffering a severe case of hyperemesis with my second pregnancy and another family friend with the gift of healing laid hands on me and prayed that God would cure me of the debilitating nausea. As he prayed with confidence that I would be healed, I asked him, "Why are you so sure that God wants to take this away?"

He looked surprised, and answered, "Because God doesn't like people to suffer."

Except me, I guess. Needless to say, my hyperemesis continued unabated another 10 weeks until I was fully into my 5th month of pregnancy. Which leaves me wondering, "Why doesn't God ever want to heal me of physical suffering?"

I think it's partly because I don't need the miracle. It wouldn't help my faith to be healed, and it wouldn't help my husband find faith, either. I read somewhere that God worked miracles to help people believe. Well, I already believe. In fact, it might negatively impact my faith, given how tied I am to the more physical aspects of faith like almsgiving and public worship. Perhaps God wants me to continue on in my faith without any miracles. Is that a lesson I need to learn?

Or could it be that I need the suffering? It's hard to imagine how I (or my family) could NEED 20 weeks of torture. My hyperemesis was hard on everyone -- on my mother who nursed me full time and took care of my son as well, on my husband who lived alone in our home and saw me only for 10 minutes a day, on my son who had very little interaction with me while I was ill, and on me, too. Throwing up multiple times a day, enduring IVs for deyhdration every three days, intense and constant nausea and the sheer boredom of being able to do nothing but lay in bed and watch bad daytime TV certainly qualifies as torture in my book.

I needed all that? Really? I needed a trip to the emergency room last Friday at 3 am after I almost passed out while trying to take some medicine for my throat? What greater good is being served here?

But I know that one is. Perhaps God wants to show me the importance of family. I complain about them too much, really. My attitude could use a good adjustment. Sometimes I don't want to be around them, and I'm sure they sometimes feel the same way about me. But none of that matters. I am still called by God to love them, L.O.V.E love them and honor them and keep them close to me, no matter what. Perhaps God was using the hyperemesis to teach me unconditional love. My family showed me unconditional love by taking care of me even when at my worst, emotionally, physically and spiritually. Can I do less than return that to them? God loves me with all my faults. Should I do less for my family?

And, too, perhaps it's not all about me. I offered up my sore throat for those without medical care. When I had to go to the ER in the middle of the night, my mom was there to drive me. We had three hospitals to choose from, all less than 20 minutes away. I had my antibiotics within 6 hours, with almost everything paid for by insurance. With all that available, did I really need healing? I also offered up my hyperemesis, but I didn't do a very good job of bearing it cheerfully for those mothers in poor countries who have no maternity care at all. I tried. Somewhat...

God could heal everyone. He has that power. If I am willing to bear a little bit of suffering for someone who truly needs God's healing, isn't the humility, perspective and empathy I gain for others worth more than the joy of being healed? God knows which I need more.

Wisdom From Old Traditions

I've just returned from celebrating the Passover Seder with some family friends. Having married into a Jewish family, and also having grown up in a heavily Jewish area, I am as familiar with the ceremonies and celebrations of Judaism as I am with my own faith. It was comforting, beautiful and spiritual to participate in the Seder as I remember it from my childhood, and to see the different traditions this new family has developed.

It was also comforting to have to deal with my 5 year old son's rambunctious behavior during the prayers and readings. Praise God! It's not the Church he hates...it's sitting still!

I had an interesting conversation with the host during the evening. As he humbly reminds me whenever we talk, he's not a rabbi, but he's certainly studied the Talmud and is a great source of information on tradition and theology.

I've been turning over the question of sacrifices in my head since I read it in my book on Stewardship, and can't quite put my finger on why it bothers me so much. An anonymous commenter wrote in my previous post on the subject that my current efforts to help the poor by living simply and increasing my prayer time ARE like the ancient offerings I find so inspiring simply because they have no visible effect. It requires faith to do them and believe that some good will come.

That's, I think, the crux of my problem. I wouldn't say I have little faith. In fact, I've always felt I had an abundance of it. I've always felt sure of God's presence in my life and believed the truth of His existence. I don't need miracles or proofs...If I found out tomorrow that absolutely everything in the Bible was wrong, that Jesus never existed, that humans were seeded on earth by aliens from another galaxy, I would still know that God was real. I have my doubts like anyone, but they are always allayed by the simple faith that He exists. Period.

But faith is just the first step. All my life, I've felt completely in accord with James when he talks about the need for action to complete ones faith:

What good is it, my brothers, if someone says he has faith but does not have works? Can that faith save him? If a brother or sister has nothing to wear and has no food for the day, and one of you says to them, "Go in peace, keep warm and eat well," but you do not give them the necessities of the body, what good is it? So also faith of itself, if it does not have works, is dead.
-- James 2:14-17

This is the classic "Show don't Tell" that every aspiring writer must take to heart. If I claim to be a Christian, I must BE a Christian. I can't simply talk about Christ's love. I have to SHOW it with everything I do, in all my thoughts, words and deeds.

This is why I can't find peace with the limitations I'm operating under right now. The most I can do for the poor is pray for them, and doing that without also giving money to charity feels like I'm telling the poor "I wish good things for you" and then walking away and leaving them in need.

My Jewish friend had a perspective that's somewhat helpful as I struggle with my situation. I asked him about the destruction of the Temple, and how the resulting loss of the priesthood has prohibited the Jews from offering sacrifices. "Do you feel that your faith lost anything when the sacrifices went from material things to solely spiritual ones? That in some ways, prayers cannot replace the very real act of taking something and burning it?"

He said suffering was never really the point of the sacrifices. It wasn't so much that God wanted His people to feel the absence of the first fruits, or the bull, or the lamb. The laws on what to sacrifice and when were meant to serve as reminders of God's presence and blessings. Keeping Kosher, for instance, is not about doing without certain foods. It is a lifestyle that keeps God at the forefront of our thoughts, and also a way for an observant Jew to set himself apart from the society he lives in, as another visible reminder that God is what is most important to him.

So that has really resonated with me. These things I am doing may not really have any impact on the poor, but they still DO impact the world. They are visible reminders, to me and to those who know me, that God is present among us. They are witness to my faith and the importance of God in my life.

If I can do them cheerfully, consistently and lovingly, they may be the best ways to evangelize others. They are an opportunity for me to share my knowledge and help others think about the poor in their lives. I can't do much right now, but others can...if they are so inclined. Taking the poor with me through my actions also brings them into the lives of those I associate with, and if that inspires someone to give then I HAVE helped the poor (indirectly.)

Instead of focusing on what I'm not doing, I should think about what I am doing. The Jewish people did not abandon their faith when the Temple was destroyed and their entire way of relating to God had to change. They found ways to live apart in witness to God and preserved the intent of their laws.

Their example can serve as an inspiration to me, and a reminder of why I'm doing this.

Picture credit: TRAVIS SPRADLING/The Advocate

Back in the Saddle

We've had a major financial setback, in the form of raw sewage inundating our basement. Apparently, there are two points in our main sewer line that aren't moving water as they ought. Our pipes backed up last week and we didn't notice it until a ten foot area of our finished basement was soaked.

Needless to say, we don't have the money lying around that it's going to take to fix this. I figure this should increase our debt by about 50%, perhaps more.

But I'm surprisingly untroubled about it. After the initial shock and horror of finding such a thing in our basement, my first thought was how much time this was going to add before we were able to give to charity, tithe, and adopt (my three main goals for our family.) I fretted about it for a day and God spoke very clearly into my heart.

We're never going to eliminate our debt. But that doesn't matter, because God's going to change my husband's heart so he's open to tithing, giving to charity, and adoption even WITH debt.

So I don't really care. The house could burn down around us and it'd be a HUGE pain, but we'll figure it out somehow. My poor husband, on the other hand, is having trouble eating and sleeping because he's so worried about how we're going to find the money. I figure we'll just take out a loan if we have to. It's not like we have no assets. It's not like we're living paycheck to paycheck without any cushion or credit.

We'll be okay.

I would be very, very, happy, though, if I never saw raw sewage again. YUCK.

Letting Go of "Peace"

I had a visit from a friend over the weekend. We did a lot of talking, and I shared part of what I'm doing to try and Take the Poor With me. I shared some of my frustrations with her, my feelings of impatience and the frequent sorrow that comes over me whenever I hear about women in the Congo raped to incontinence, or women in India outsourcing their wombs, and remember that right now, I can do next to nothing to help them.

We had a long conversation about peace. Her contention is that in order to feel peace, I have to truly let go of my desires in this matter. I tried to explain that I have already let go, that my whole self is now dedicated to saving money when I can and working towards the goal my husband has set for us rather than fighting for what I believe to be right or underhandedly giving away all my cash to charity and claiming I spent it on donuts.

But according to her, in order to truly let go, I have to stop wanting it entirely. If I hear a news story and still want to help those people in need, I haven't really let go. If I'm still irritated at the restrictions on our budget, I haven't really let go.

I don't think I need to spend much time telling you that this idea really REALLY bothers me. I do my very best to turn my pain and anguish over to God, that He might do what He wills with it. I am trying as hard as I can to bite my tongue whenever the topic of money comes up and let my husband lead our finances. Does that mean the feelings just vanish? NOT IN THE LEAST.

To me, her definition of "letting go" is really "giving up." How can I have hope unless I'm expecting change? And why would I expect change if it's something I don't want anymore? Since when is erasing the desire for something the answer? I think about Hannah, barren for most of her life, praying so fervently in the Temple that God would grant her a son that Eli thought she was drunk or crazy. How could Hannah simply stop wanting a child? That's the secret to achieving peace...telling yourself over and over again "I don't really want this" until it becomes true?

It sounds entirely wrong to me, but could that be because I'm not really letting go? I admit, I'm still irritated every single time I go to Mass, every time I pray, every time I read/hear God's word. Everything in my faith points to caring for the poor, to tithing, to sacrifice and sacrificial love. I'm constantly reminded of what I want to do and what I can't do.

My friend said that I should just be satisfied with my volunteer work and let everything else be, that I should find peace in submitting my will to that of my husband as God commands.

I don't even know what that would feel like. I know I'm doing the right thing by backing off and praying for God to take over. I completely, wholeheartedly believe in Church teaching and am confident that the decision I've made is the right one. So why don't I feel "peace" about it?

Either her and my definitions of "peace" are at odds, or I'm doing something wrong.

I would appreciate any insights anyone has to offer.

Picture credit.

Convenience

I had a rare hour-long conversation with a friend of mine from high school the other day. She had a baby girl a few weeks after I had my youngest daughter, so we talk often and share what our kids are doing as we walk this beautiful path of motherhood together.

During our most recent conversation, we were discussing cloth diapering (which we both do) and how much easier it is than we thought it would be. Both of us have had numerous encounters with people who see that we are cloth diapering and hasten to exclaim, "God bless you! I could never do that. I just don't have the time/patience/skill."

I always answer, "Sure you could! It's not hard at all, just a couple more loads of laundry every week." My friend and I were discussing why our automatic reaction to these comments is to assure the other person that cloth diapering isn't that much harder than disposables. Really! It's not inconvenient at all!

Why is convenience the ONLY question here? What about the cost savings, the benefits to the environment or the fact that they're free of chemicals? None of this seems to matter when it comes time to choose between throwing a used diaper in a pail to be later rinsed and washed versus tossing it in the garbage and never thinking about it again.

Are we really so bound to the idea of convenience?

The short answer is YES. Witness the rise in elective c-sections and scheduled inductions. It's too hard on some mothers and doctors, apparently, to wait for labor to start naturally. Never mind the 2-fold risk of maternal mortality when the c-section isn't medically necessary. Never mind the harm to the baby, the extra cost to the insurance companies, or the fact that it's major abdominal surgery. Convenience trumps everything else.

Look around you next time you're at the grocery store. The number of products that market convenience are staggering. Tired of wringing out that mop? No need to worry! Just buy a box of disposable mop heads and throw them away as soon as you're done. No time to vacuum up that pet hair or open a window and air out the room? Here's a bottle of chemicals you can spray around to make your house smell nice. Never mind that both these products pollute the environment through their manufacture, use and disposal. Never mind that they're expensive and unnecessary. If they make your life easier, that's all that matters, right?

Studies have linked the rise in obesity among children to our diet of high-fat, fried, and/or processed foods. (Though plenty of other sites contest those findings.) Still, every health expert agrees that we need more whole grains, fresh fruits and vegetables and less sugar and fat in our diets. The best way to do this is to cook from scratch: you govern exactly what goes into your meal and assure your family of optimum nutrition. Yet the invariable answer from today's busy family is that "We don't have time." Many supermarkets have come up with solutions for us, from pre-cut broccoli florets to pre-marinated chicken breasts. At an increased cost, of course. There's labor and packaging involved that aren't factors when you buy a whole chicken or a stalk of broccoli.

I have to ask what we're doing that we don't have time to chop up a couple stalks of broccoli. There are families, I'm sure, where two incomes mean the difference between food on the table and empty plates, but for most of us, it comes down to choices. What are we choosing that necessitates this unhealthy reliance on convenience?

It's not that there's anything wrong with modern conveniences by themselves. I'm certainly not advocating we all get rid of our washing machines and start pounding our clothes against rocks. But convenience is a luxury that we ought to balance against the cost it entails. Be assured, there's always a cost.

In truth, I'm actually upset about the way our society's obsession with "fast and easy" has spilled over into other areas. My husband came home from a recent trip with a story about a friend he'd met who had warned him repeatedly and most earnestly to "Stop at two." Children, that is. Seems this poor fellow has three kids and they're not worth the herculean effort it takes to raise them.

I'm sure he thought he was doing my husband a service by warning him away from the life of misery that he's apparently been consigned to, but I'm indignant at the message it sends: If it takes effort, it's not worth it. Isn't this a temptation that pulls at us every day? Isn't it easier to drive to the post office instead of walking five blocks? Isn't it easier to buy a Halloween costume from Target than be creative and cobble one together from what you have at home? Isn't it easier to throw your plastic bags away than return them to the store for recycling?

Well, maybe "easy" shouldn't be the penultimate goal all the time. Maybe we ought to be thinking about what's right instead of what's easy. Because, frankly, cloth diapering is right. Recycling is right. Simplifying is right. Sacrificing is right.

Sometimes things aren't easy. My husband has a comeback for this: "Suck it up." I prefer "Offer it up" but hey, whatever floats your boat. Just because it's hard doesn't mean it isn't worth it.

Picture credit: The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe by Joseph Martin Kronheim

Earthly Justice

I spent some time at a nearby cemetery today. As part of All Souls week, we Catholics can gain plenary indulgences for the souls in Purgatory if we do a few simple things. While there I saw a gravemarker with dates from 2004 to 2006. "How sad," I thought. "A little child." Then I looked below it and saw a similar stone with dates from 2002 to 2006. November 10, 2006, to be precise, and I realized this poor family had lost both their children on the same day.

Actually, they lost even more than that. A drunk driver ran up on a curb and killed these two children and their mother. Their father survived with injuries. From what I could determine, the driver was sentenced to 48 years in prison, eligible for parole after 33. The blogosphere seems to consider this a travesty of justice, but I wonder...what is justice in this case? What is justice in any case?

As the wife of a lawyer (and a woman who aspires to law herself) I've always been a firm believer in justice and our system of law. No, it's not perfect. Nothing on this earth really is. But I've always felt it's an essential part of a free society. If there is no retribution for a wrong committed, then there is no point in declaring something wrong in the first place.

But it brings home to me how empty and meaningless earthly justice can be. For the truly horrendous crimes and for those who deeply, deeply suffer, there's nothing that we as humans can do that even approaches making things right. The problem with justice, as I see it, is that it's a reaction to a wrong. It's a response. And by its very nature, it can only offer a part of what has been lost because it's never possible to erase the past.

Sometimes I find myself frustrated and discouraged by this idea: that there's nothing we can do to make things right for people who have suffered. Particularly in the worst cases, as with the Israeli/Palestinian conflict, the genocide in Rwanda, or the violence of suicide bombers, I'm left wondering what anyone can do. 48 years in prison won't bring back the Binghams. It probably won't prevent this sort of tragedy from happening to anyone else, either. There's plenty of drunk drivers out there, and all our laws and punishments for DUIs haven't made it any safer to cross the street in Denver. So what to do?

The answer lies in our focus, and it is one of the reasons why I am a person of fervent faith. If we focus on this life as the only form of our existence, then every ounce of our strength has to go into protecting people while preventing and punishing acts of injustice. And when our efforts fail (as they must) we are left with the sense that nothing has been accomplished.

But if we focus on eternal life, the entire point of our existence changes. It's not incumbent upon us to bring peace to every corner of the world or eradicate all suffering. Suffering is part of life, as a recent post on Et Tu, Jen so eloquently showed. We have not failed if suffering remains. We have succeeded if we brought comfort to the afflicted, if we dedicated ourselves to reaching out and touching as many people as we can with the love of Christ, if we in any small way freed another soul from the darkness of its burden and brought healing to the injured.

I understand that many atheists see this as a cop-out and an excuse to do nothing about preventing tragedy. It's one of Hitchens' major complaints about Mother Theresa, that instead of working to heal and help the people who came to her in Calcutta, she merely held their hands and gave them her loving presence while they suffered and died. I can understand his outrage; after all, if life is the whole point, then it's a crime to withold any and all extraordinary measures to prolong it. The money Mother Theresa received should, in Hitchens' mind, have gone towards alleviating poverty, medical care, food for the hungry, social change, etc etc etc.

But this misses the point of Mother Theresa's ministry, which was to bring love and comfort and hope to the dying. Not hope of earthly life, but of salvation and eternal life. I think Mother Theresa saw the truth in a way most of us cannot. All the money in the world will not eradicate poverty (certainly not in India where the societal hierarchy prevents the sort of intraclass movement that our country is built upon.) Rather than expend her energies trying to make this earthly life better for those who were suffering, she dedicated herself to bringing a small glimpse of Heaven into their hearts.

I absolutely believe that we ought to work tirelessly and passionately to bring change in the world. That's the point of this blog, to help me do whatever I can for the poor. Fundamentalist regimes that trod on the personhood of their citizens are an affront to the dignity of human life. Greedy dictators who sap their countries of natural resources and leave their people to starve are as thoroughly evil as people can be. Acts of hate and violence against minorities and people of differing viewpoints are anathema to the inclusive love God has for all His children. I support the organization of a free society in which each person is respected from the moment of conception, and is given the right and opportunity to choose their own path.

But Jesus has said, "The poor you will always have with you." In His wisdom He has told us the future and revealed a fundamental truth of life: there will always be suffering. And, too, there will always be men who choose to do evil. That is the price of free will.

So when we are faced with tragedy, with crime, with injustice, what is our response? As Christians, it must be love. The desire for vengeance has no part in the message of Christ. Nor does the misguided attempt to punish the transgressor for his act. Earthly justice may serve to deter future drunks from getting behind the wheel, or decrease the chance of his committing the same crime again, but it doesn't bring much comfort or healing to the victims themselves.

That's our job.