Perspective

I'm late on 7 Quick Takes because I'm only online on Sundays. Hopefully I can jump in without penalty!

1. It's very unlikely we will homeschool next year. While I see successes in some areas, the overall atmosphere is very unpleasant. My son hates learning and complains no matter what task I set him to. He procrastinates and sulks and sabotages his assignments, which makes me so frustrated that I lose my temper and create exactly the kind of environment that experts say prevents a child's ability to learn. I've prayed for strength, for patience, for guidance, and it comes down to this: it's not working. I want to be open minded and accept that homeschool might not be right for us.

2. So we are in the process of finding a school for him. I'd like to make the financial sacrifice and send him to our parish school, if only because at least that way he'd still get to Mass once during the week and would receive catechism instruction on a daily basis. I'm not yet convinced, though, that the benefits of a Catholic education outweigh the financial burden. But I found the public school overcrowded when we visited last week, so if I had to choose, I'd prefer the private school.

3. I am starting to get really super-excited about the idea of having some time to myself every day. I could work on my book. Possibly (gulp) finish it! I could do fun stuff with my son instead of having all our interactions be adversarial! I could schedule doctors appointments that don't involve my kids shouting and screaming and barging in while I'm being examined! I could sit at Mass and actually pray in silence! Wow!

4. I am also really, fundamentally, depressed about this. It's hard not to feel like a failure. If I were a better teacher, perhaps my son wouldn't fight learning so much. It saddens me that he'll have so much less time now for role play and adventuring. I hate that he'll be gone 7 hours every day and that he'll probably be spending most of that sitting down at a desk. I am deeply worried about his social interactions, both the influences he'll be exposed to as well as the potential for bullying. This just isn't what I wanted for him.

5. My dad has invited us to visit Malta with him this summer. I haven't been since I was three, and this time I really want to explore the churches and the monuments and take a boat tour and all sorts of amazing things that you can do on an island in the middle of the Mediterranean that was settled by ancient Romans! I am supremely blessed with family members who buy me vacations to wonderful places. Unfortunately, I am afraid to fly and will probably spend the entire time over the ocean going through decade after decade of the Rosary. Eh. Prayers are never a bad thing.

6. Last year, I declined requests to be a catechist at my Parish as well as a co-leader for my moms group and planning member of the Colorado Catholic Homeschoolers conference because we were planning to be open to life in January and I didn't think it was a good idea to commit to a volunteer position and then disappear off the face of the Earth halfway through. I'm facing the same choice again for the fall, which is when we are next planning to be open to life again after the unforeseen ectopic pregnancy I experienced a few months ago. Part of me thinks it's ridiculous to plan for something that may not happen, the rest of me thinks that ALL plans may not happen so that's stupid logic. I have been feeling a pull to take more risks and trust God more lately. So perhaps I'll go ahead and volunteer, and then trust that people will figure things out if we are blessed as we hope to be in the fall.

7. And in news that illuminates posts 1 - 6 as the frivolous prattle of a person with no real problems, I found out yesterday that a friend is pregnant. She's really not in a very good place right now and can't afford another baby. I don't want to say any more out of respect for her privacy, but I do ask that you pray for R--. She is not considering an abortion at all, but she is very worried about how they can manage, and she needs a great deal of help.

More Quick Takes at Conversion Diary!

Perfection

I know I have blogged on this subject before, but it's one of the main issues I struggle with and which keeps me from both joy and trust in God. Logically I know we are all imperfect and that God loves us regardless. I love my children and my husband, and they are not perfect. I do not need to be perfect in order to be a child of God and do His will.

But I don't want to do anything unless I can do it well. I know that's a big part of why my book is languishing, 6 years into the writing of it, at about 2/3 complete. I fear that it won't be successful, that it won't be my best work, that people won't find it interesting or worth the read. In my mind I know all of these things are not only probable, but certain. Of course my first novel will not be my best! What a sad situation if I cannot improve on my first work for the rest of my life! And of course many people won't like it. In fact, I bet most of the people I know won't like it because those who share my love for speculative fiction will find it quaint and moralistic, while those who would appreciate its religious message probably won't get past the kings and magic element. As for success...what is that? Many bad books are published, many good books are not. Besides, I'm not going to reach heaven simply by writing a novel that receives wide public acclaim. I know all this. But knowing and accepting are two different things.

I know, for instance, that I will probably never be able to save 10% of my husband's income simply by reducing my spending. With the major purchases already accounted for (mortgage, insurance, savings, etc.) my impact on the budget is simply too limited to achieve a full tithe. Which is as it should be. A sacrifice like that is something a family must do together because it makes such an enormous impact on quality-of-life. I'm just starting to accept that perhaps my ideals cannot co-exist with reality, and that I am not able to accomplish things through desire alone.

I have similar angst about my decision to homeschool. As deeply as I desire to mimic a Charlotte Mason education with its emphasis on living books, nature studies and active discipline, the reality of my and my childrens' personalities have not made it easy. After five months of effort with my son, we are still fighting over every single assignment (though he is as proud and enthusiastic about his work as he can be once we finish.)

The sin of pride keeps me focused on perfection. I want so badly to look back on my day and think, "Yes, I have done well. I am worthy of God's love because I am a good person who does God's will." That thinking is sinful and dangerous. It puts up a barrier to keep God in a particular role and doesn't allow for grace or trust or the childlike attitude God wants from me. So I must look hard at my plans for the future and ask myself: When it becomes clear I cannot reach my ideals, where does the path lead from there?

The answer, of course, is still "To do God's will." Do I believe it is His will that I homeschool? Emphatically, yes. He has led me here deliberately, through decisions that I weren't even mine, and through contact with faithful, inspiring Catholics whose words I recognize as wisdom. I believe I am called to homeschool even if I can't do it in a perfect manner. So with that as my base, it seems obvious that I need to re-examine the TYPE of homeschooling that I'm doing.

If I can't maintain a calm and encouraging environment while trying to teach my son narration, then perhaps he's more of a workbook and textbook kid. It doesn't have to be all or nothing. If I can't celebrate the Church calendar and have a Saints Tea every week, then at least I can mention to the kids what the feast day is and read them stories about the Saints on occasion. I need to be open to lowering the bar without removing it entirely. So often I get discouraged and think, "Oh, forget it! It's not worth it! It's too hard!" I need to keep fighting. Even if my tactics change, my mission doesn't. So I can't save 1/3rd of my monthly budget. Okay. I'll work on saving 1/10th instead. I need to be firm in my convictions and respond to well-meaning concerns about my kids' socialization and the quality of their education with statements like, "I believe this is best for them at this time." And I have to believe in my heart that it is true, that God has called me in all my imperfections. He wants me to reduce spending and set aside money for the poor. He wants me to homeschool. He wants me to be the mother of my children because I am the best mother for them at this time, even if I could still be better.

And then I need to pray: God, help me be better!

Picture credit.

A little more Person, please

I am doing better. Thank you, everyone, for your beautiful words of encouragement. I've found that my physical and mental healing are progressing together. I can't remember on whose blog I read it, but a woman who had recently suffered a miscarriage spoke of her "shoulds" turning to "woulds." Instead of feeling, "I should be 22 weeks pregnant now," she had begun to think, "I would be 22 weeks." The difference encapsulates what I'm feeling, too. While I'm still sad, I don't feel the aching emptiness anymore. I don't feel that I'm "off" because I'm not pregnant.

At the moment, I'm reflecting on Lent and discerning my Lenten sacrifice. Gretchen Rubin of the Happiness Project had a post last December with tips on refraining from holiday indulgences. In it, she describes two personality types: abstainers or moderators. After careful thought, I have discovered I am a moderator. I like an occasional treat and can stop after a little bit, whereas when I am totally deprived of something, I grow crabby and whiny and obsess over it.

In fact, it's led me to a realization that I hope will help me better order my time. I think I've been neglecting one of the five Ps (as illustrated in A Mother's Rule of Life): I'm not taking time to feed myself as a Person. This is not to say that I am work, work, work 100% of the day. Far from it, unfortunately. I spend more time than a person should vegging out in front of the TV, and I frequently bake myself any kind of treat I feel like. In fact, do you know what I had for lunch today? Scones with blackberry jam and cream. They were awesome, BTW. I highly recommend that recipe.

The point, though, is that indulging my immediate desires does not grow me as a person. In the serious parts of my life -- prayer, parenting, providing, partnering -- I am growing. But in terms of my self, my professional core, I am doing the equivalent of living on fast food and cupcakes. Those things I do to entertain myself, like watching Star Trek or dancing to salsa music, while thoroughly enjoyable, do not grow me.

So I think what I need to do is give up those little indulgences that make me feel good in the moment, but don't do anything concrete to grow me as a person. Instead, I need to spend that time on something productive, say, finishing my book or writing a short story or critiquing a friend's novel. Out with the mindless, in with the fruitful. Giving up the internet for Lent seems a good place to start, though I think I will follow the example of some other faithful Catholics I know who have done this and allow Sundays for checking email and catching up on blogs. Otherwise, the amount of backlog come Easter is overwhelming.

Jen had an awesome post on this a couple days ago, and I know Anna gave up the internet for Lent last year. Several of the families in my homeschooling network don't own televisions at all (!!!) so I know this is not only an achievable goal, but a laudable one that can bear significant fruit. I'm excited to embark on this journey!

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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.

Trust and Obedience

I had a great post planned about trusting in God and the intercession of the Saints. It was awesome. I'd been very stressed about an upcoming wedding where I'd have to make a speech, and decided I needed supernatural assistance. So I said a novena to St. Dymphna and immediately experienced an increase in confidence that God would take care of things and the speech would go well. When it went better than well, I was all prepared to sit down and crow about the power of God and how praying to the Saints really works. A success story! What a great post!

Then my life took a surprising turn. I found out I was pregnant. And just as quickly, found out I was miscarrying. Yesterday morning I had a dizzy spell while driving my daughter to preschool and had to pull over and get out of the car. It triggered a massive panic attack which led the kind stranger who found me hunched over on his porch to call an ambulance to take me to the ER. It all turned out to be nothing, just some cramps and nausea associated with the miscarriage. Everything was fine.

So much for trusting in God and overcoming my anxieties. Why is it that whenever I'm confronted with a situation that's out of my control, I completely lose it? I spent a large part of yesterday beating myself up for not being able to handle that dizzy spell. I had a long list of "if onlys." If only I'd lain on the sidewalk until it passed...if only I'd called my husband instead of the ambulance...if only I'd waited five minutes to leave the house, or left 10 minutes earlier...if only I'd had my cell phone with me...

What bothered me most about it was that it was the panic attack which sent me to the ER, not the miscarriage. As sad as I am to be saying goodbye to my Little Acorn, healthwise, there's really no problem. My bleeding is light, and aside from that one big cramp while driving, I've hardly had any pain at all. If only I weren't such an Nervous Nellie...Why can't I just trust in God?

Finally last night, while meditating on the fifth Joyful mystery, God hit me over the head with the sanity stick. Jesus is lost in Jerusalem, the Son of God entrusted to Mary and Joseph is missing, and they are FRANTIC while they search for him. Doesn't Joseph say, "Son, why have you done this to us? Can't you see how worried your mother and I have been?" Jesus gently chides them. "Why were you worried? Didn't you know I must be about my Father's business?" And God asks me, "Do you think Mary's emotional response to losing her son means that she doesn't trust Me?"

Mary, who said yes to a plan that must have seemed wildly impossible, surely trusted God. She must have known that God, who sent an angel to warn them of Herod's soldiers and kept them safe on the trip to Egypt, would not let any harm come to His son until He had fulfilled His mission. She must have known, even before Jesus reminded her, that He not only had the power to take care of Himself, but also to guide and save others. Yet she was worried and upset, searching for Jesus everywhere.

It's okay for me to be anxious and experience panic attacks. They are the natural, human response to stressful situations. Their presence is not an indictment of my ability to trust God. What matters is not how I feel about a given situation, but what I do. If I allow my panic and anxiousness to keep me from doing the Lord's work, then I am not trusting God. But if I go ahead along the path He's made clear to me, even if I am nervous and frightened and stressed, as long as I keep on doing what I'm meant to do, He will take care of things.

Picture credit.

1. So my foot issue of last week blew up into a full-on episode. I had every toe on both feet hot, swollen and painful for three days, which made walking difficult and putting on shoes torture. My husband really stepped up, Bless him, and cleaned the house, took care of the kids and brought me Advil whenever I asked. As always when situations like those occur, I am suddenly struck with gratitude for the life I have, complete with good health, a warm house, a loving husband and the money to see specialists and buy medicine. Of course, the medicine didn't work, but there's a good opportunity to offer it up for the sake of those who aren't so lucky.

2. Still no clear word on what caused the swelling, or how to prevent future flareups, but my podiatrist diagnosed me with Raynauds Syndrome. I find the diagnosis kind of funny, actually, because my whole life I've been having problems with circulation in my hands and feet, leading to things like entire fingers turning white. My husband has been helping me out by holding my cold hands and enduring my icy feet against his legs every night of our entire marriage. So the idea that it's actually a syndrome is just awesomely funny. All this time, we just thought I was a Teeny One (his nickname for me.) Turns out I have a DISEASE! LOL It's not really a disease...

3. The foot issue did prevent me from attending my book club on Sunday, which really bummed me out because we were reading Shanghai Girls and having a pot luck Chinese feast to coincide with our discussion. Then I find out a few days later that they discussed the Catholic views on birth control! Without me! AAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH! If I needed any more signs from God that I'm being called to silence, I think this would do it. Clearly, God was protecting me from being a total attention-whore and alienating the women in my club with my endless pontificating on the Theology of the Body. Or...possibly...teaching me humility by showing me that important discussions of this type can really happen in my absence and no meteors fall from the sky to herald the apocalypse. Note to self: speak up less.

4. Which is ironically supported by videos like this, which (tongue in cheek notwithstanding) clearly show that you can praise God with silence as effectively as words.


5. I have been purposely holding off on Christmas baking until tomorrow. The sooner you start, the more you eat, right? So I've dedicated the whole day to a baking extravaganza! I'll start with a trip to the grocery store for ingredients, then begin with toffee, progress to peppermint bark and finish with a grand slam of sugar cookies in star shapes, ginger snaps and pressed butter cookies. Woo hoo!

6. I am totally on top of this Christmas thing! Except for my Christmas cards, which are totally and completely not even started at all yet. YIKES. Need to make that a priority, like, soon.

7. Tonight is my husband's office holiday party. I love it. Every year it's just a love fest where the partners get up and say nice things about their work, their employees, their wives and their employees families, and tell the same funny stories from their early years that they told last year. There's wine, good food, and dancing (not that we partake of that because I married a non-dancer. I did so knowingly, but perhaps not fully understanding what that would mean for our lives together.) At any rate, the party is great and I get to dress up! Can't go wrong with that.

7 Quick Takes Friday

I'm notoriously bad at these 7 Quick Takes posts. Both the getting them done on time and the coming up with 7 small, but interesting things. But today HUZZAH! I have a few tidbits to post!

1. First, this awesome comic, which had me laughing over my breakfast.

Natural Parenting, XKCD-style

2. I love Advent. Someone like me, who is a procrastinator and somewhat disorganized, NEEDS a season like Advent to get ready for Christmas. I like that we have a schedule: first the wreaths, then the four week countdown, decorations on the 3rd Sunday and the tree on the 4th. If I had to jump into the whole shebang with lights, a tree, all my decor and present-shopping the day after Thanksgiving, I might have a nervous breakdown (which is, not coincidentally, what almost happened to me last February when I came back from a month-long vacation and suddenly had to put all my Christmas things away in the span of a few days.) In other words, God bless the Catholic Church in her abundant wisdom!

3. I have finished my Christmas shopping! (GASP) It is unheard of for me; I'm almost always rushing around the week of Christmas, stressed and screaming at the kids, out of money and depressed about it. But this year we set money aside each month, I liberally used Amazon, and my mother and sister came to town for St. Nicholas' Day and we did their present opening extravaganza last Sunday. Technically, I still have to get something for my husband, but since he's being uncooperative and refusing to tell me what he wants, he may end up with a construction paper heart with the words "Good for one night where you get to pick the TV shows instead of having to watch Enterprise reruns and historical documentaries."

4. These are supposed to be quick, right? Like a sentence or two each?

5. I met with a spiritual director on Tuesday last week. Finally! After two years of searching I found a nearby parish where the Priests make spiritual direction a priority and don't limit it to people discerning a vocation! I completely understand why my Parish priests can't serve in this capacity; they're just too busy. But I am thrilled to be meeting with Fr. O'Connor, who is very nice and has advised me to read "The Examen Prayer" as a way of governing my prayer life. The kids ran rampant through our entire session, knocking on the door and begging to be let in because they "Wanted to listen." I'm definitely leaving them with a babysitter next time.

6. I don't know how I'm going to find time to read the book Father recommended, because I have a backlog of about 6 books that people have given me and which I really should have finished ages ago. I just don't read, unfortunately. It is by far my favorite pastime, but it does require somewhat more energy than plopping in front of the TV, and recently that's been my evening pastime of choice. It's something I'm planning to focus on over the next few weeks. Hopefully I'll have some progress to report on it by the New Year.

7. I am finally going to see a podiatrist today. Every winter I suffer from swollen, painful toes, usually on my left foot, and it makes it impossible for me to wear heels of any kind. Normally this isn't an issue, but every now and then I do have an occasion where heels are important (husband's Holiday Party, etc) and then I am in agony for a week. Last night every toe on my left foot swelled, and the pain woke me up at 2:30 in the morning. So I am doing something about it. NOW.