Taking a Leap

It's pretty clear to me what I am being called to do. This post, and this one, and this one, and the first comment on this one all point to the same conclusion: Stop trying to do it all yourself and just give it to God.

And these are all posts within the last week or so.

When I began this blog, I wanted to highlight the ways we, as blessed inhabitants of a wealthy and prosperous nation, can live our lives in solidarity with the poor. My path was waylaid immediately by what I thought at the time was an obstacle: my husband's opposition to giving to charity. So I changed my focus and dedicated myself to budgeting and saving, non-monetary giving, and prayer.

It's not at all that I think I made the wrong choice or anything, but I think I had the wrong attitude about it. I thought at the time, "I'll just do all these things in obedience to what God is calling me to do, and He will change my husband's heart so we'll be able to give to charity." I also thought, "God will help me save money so we will be in a good financial position and have extra to give to the poor."

Um. So. That totally hasn't happened. At all. The irony is, we are in excellent financial position. We have paid off all our debt and saved three to four months worth of salary for emergency spending. My husband has gotten a raise. We've made improvements on our house that actually saved us money in the long run (winterizing, etc.)

But we don't seem to have any money for the poor. My husband had suggested that any money left over in the monthly budget could be split 50/50 between savings and charity. Not only have we not had any money left over for the last year, but we have been overspending our monthly budget by hundreds and hundreds of dollars. In fact, just from overspending, we've gone back into debt.

My husband is dumbfounded. "How is this happening?" he asked me the other night. "We used to be able to get by with less! We have more money than we ever have and we're spending more!"

I didn't have an answer for him, but in praying about it (and reading blogs that coincidentally all say the same things) it seems pretty obvious to me what the problem is. We're not giving God His money. The whole idea of budgeting and scrimping so we can save some "extra" for the poor has the entire thing backwards. We should be giving freely to the poor, and trusting in God to provide for us, as He did when we gave $100 to the IRC instead of buying groceries.

I am petrified. And completely at a loss. This whole trusting God thing is exceedingly difficult for me, and I am very, very worried about how it might affect my marriage. Can I be completely honest? It's not even that I worry about our financial situation, or making my husband mad. My real fear, the deepest, most central fear that's stopping me from taking a leap of faith, is that it won't work, and it will be just one more reason for my husband not to believe in God.

What if we do this, if we give to God and then He doesn't provide? I've seen friends who attempted great things for God fail utterly and completely (in the eyes of the world.) It didn't rock their faith, they were never in a situation where they had no food or no home, and I think it led them to a better place, but as far as my husband is concerned, they listened to a voice that wasn't there and completely ruined their finances. I don't want to fall into a prosperity gospel trap here and move forward recklessly, expecting that strangers are going to drop checks on our porch to pay my kids' tuition. But if my husband and I are not on the same page when it comes to tithing, we might not hear the same message, and what to me is a sacrifice for the greater good might to my husband be a failure or an untenable compromise.

And of course, I care more about what God wants me to do than what my husband may or may not think, but it doesn't seem right to me that I am forced to choose. It doesn't seem to me that God would ask something of me that would harm my marriage.

Which leads me to think that He is in control of this, and that good will come of it.

But I'm still petrified. And I don't know how to start.

Picture credit: Movie still from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, brain child of the illustrious Mr. George Lucas (George Lucas & Jeffrey Boam, Paramount Pictures, Lucasfilm, May 24, 1989.)

Brain Drain

A really interesting article on brain function appeared in the Atlantic recently. The author intends mainly to show that criminals may not be as culpable as we consider them to be, but his arguments can easily be applied to the poor as well.

Among other things, he writes:

Genes are part of the story, but they’re not the whole story. We are likewise influenced by the environments in which we grow up. Substance abuse by a mother during pregnancy, maternal stress, and low birth weight all can influence how a baby will turn out as an adult. As a child grows, neglect, physical abuse, and head injury can impede mental development, as can the physical environment. (For example, the major public-health movement to eliminate lead-based paint grew out of an understanding that ingesting lead can cause brain damage, making children less intelligent and, in some cases, more impulsive and aggressive.) And every experience throughout our lives can modify genetic expression—activating certain genes or switching others off—which in turn can inaugurate new behaviors. In this way, genes and environments intertwine.

How many of us are guilty of uncharitable thoughts about our charitable giving? Do we give freely of our time and treasure, with love for those we serve, or do we feel in our heart of hearts that they aren't truly deserving because of their attitudes or choices? If someone is struggling with an addiction, are we less inclined to help them? What about someone who is fired from job after job for being late or insubordinate? What about the attitudes that are shaped by a lifetime of poverty: the hopelessness, the resentment, the depression and apathy?

Having struggled briefly with depression myself, I have a whole new understanding and compassion for others in that situation. It took every bit of strength I had to cart the kids from activity to activity. Sometimes I would sob while driving (very dangerous.) I functioned like an automaton, cooking dinner, putting it on the table, and eating it in silence. My relationships suffered, I lost all my creativity, and everything felt as if it took so much more effort than it was worth.

The scariest part was the feeling that I had completely lost control of who I was. I didn't WANT to scream at my children over every little thing. Yet I watched myself do things I didn't want to do, and had no power to stop.

If you can, imagine growing up in an environment that alters your very brain chemistry. Physical or sexual abuse, maternal drug use, mineral deficiencies, and lack of access to health care can shape behavior by altering the normal pathways in the brain. This can make people more aggressive or impulsive, impair their reasoning, or increase the likelihood that they will commit a crime or use drugs.

It would be nice if we were all dealt a fair hand, but that simply isn't the case. The fact is that those in impoverished areas have to work twice twice as hard (if not more) to achieve success as those of us born to privilege, and there is less margin for error. In many cases the problems we encounter (abuse, illness, mental disorders, job loss, natural disasters,) or the bad choices that we make, cause only temporary setbacks in our lives. We have a network that assists us in recovering. The poor not only encounter more problems (due to both environmental and physical factors) but have less ability to recover and less assistance, too.

This doesn't mean that we should write off bad choices or give blindly without considering how the money is being used. Whether someone steals because of dysfunctional brain chemistry or lack of education or desperation, stealing is still wrong. As a society, we can't tolerate behavior that harms our framework of individual rights. However, I feel strongly that our approach should reflect an understanding of the root causes and address them appropriately.

Tying food or housing assistance to behavior compliance doesn't help someone when their problem is physical. The more I work with at-risk populations, the more I have come to believe that access to heath care is the primary need, and that housing and food assistance will be less necessary if populations are healed from addictions and mental disorders. One of the many reasons I like Catholic Charities is that they have a comprehensive program to help people spiritually, physically and emotionally.

I have always wondered how those in prison ministry are able to love those who are unlovable. Perhaps they understand intuitively what science is just beginning to grasp: that people are more than their choices, more than their circumstances or desires. God, who sees into the heart of each person, loves each of us with an abiding and consuming love -- enough to die for us. That sort of love is a hallmark of Christian faith, and something that I hope to cultivate in my own life much more deeply through compassion and forgiveness, especially of those who I don't believe deserve it.

Love, first.

A 50/50 week. I made great improvement toward doing productive activities like sewing, writing, cleaning and reading to the kids, but that doesn't mean I watched any less TV. I blame Federer. How am I supposed to refrain from watching Wimbledon? The FIFA final didn't help matters either. Most of my progress only came in the latter half of the week, though.

At Mass yesterday we had a BVM sister come speak to us about her mission to people with Hansen's Disease (leprosy). She and her sisters run The Damien House in Ecuador. Our parish made a substantial gift from its funds, which, since we are a stewardship parish, came directly from the collection. Hearing her speak about the plight of these people brought me to tears, not because of their physical suffering, but because of the way they are outcasts from society. She said the name of the street upon which their hospital is built was called "La calle sin nombre." The Street Without a Name.

The first thing these sisters did when they arrived at this hospital didn't have anything to do with distributing medicine. Their first order of business was to clean: scrape moldy paint off the walls, rid the floor of rats and roaches, sanitize the kitchen so the food stayed fresh, change the linens, plant flowers...in other words, beautify the space so the patients would feel human again. I found such comfort in that, in the fact that they knew their first order of business was to create a loving atmosphere for the people they were serving. Of course, they also made sure everyone received treatment for the disease, advocated for better access to medincines, opened the doors to anyone who needed to receive care, and set up a weekly meeting where everyone could voice their opinions about the conditions in the hospital and their individual needs.

Yet it came down to love, first and foremost. Whenever I grow frustrated by the abysmally slow growth of my charity fund, God reminds me that it's not all about the benjamins. If love comes first, then a spirit of charity and forgiveness, of reaching out to everyone I meet, and of instilling a sense of compassion in my children are my first priorities. I'm still trying to save as much as I can, but family outings like going bowling or taking the kids to Cici's Pizza are acts of charity, even though they cost money, because they are building love.

Accountability Analysis
Week of June 21
Working on: Getting everyone ready by 9 am
Successes: Getting ready by 10 (hey, it's progress!), marriage-building, consistent with daily prayers
Challenges: yelling, laziness
Average daily HOS: 3

Week of June 28
Working on: Organizing house for Dad's visit

Good Deeds

As it's Lent, I've been trying to teach my son about sacrifice and the three pillars of Lent: Prayer, Fasting and Almsgiving. He has a "Good Deeds Cross" which he cut out of red construction paper. Every time he does a good deed, he gets to put a sticker on the Cross, beautifying it for Easter.

In the beginning, he was constantly saying things like, "I got my sister her water. Is that a good deed?...I got dressed when you asked me to. Was that a good deed?...I'm holding the door open for you, Mommy. Is that a good deed?" So I explained that a good deed is a little different from being nice or fulfilling your responsibilities. It requires a sacrifice. If you hold the door open for someone while you're on your way out or in, that's nice, but it's not a good deed. A good deed would be if Mommy had her hands full while you were on the couch or in the other room, and you saw that she needed help, got up and held the door for her. You have to do difficult things that you don't really want to do for the sake of others in order for it to be a good deed. If it's easy or if you're supposed to do it anyway, then it doesn't count for a sticker.

Isn't it funny how the Lord teaches us through our teaching our children? Two days after I came home from visiting my family, I was in the city and stopped for gas. While pumping, I noticed a homeless man begging on the side of the road. I was in raptures. I had $2 in my wallet and now that I have a budget for charity, I could follow my impulse and give it to him. So I walked over and said hello, asked his name and chatted with him a bit. He wanted a hug and we shared one; he patted my hair and thanked me for the money. I returned to my car just absolutely glowing with love and the warmth of human contact.

That's when it hit me: this is easy. Really, really easy. Giving a homeless man a hug and $2 cost me nothing and made me feel absolutely wonderful. I saw myself standing in front of God with my little construction paper Cross and asking "Is that a good deed?" I was reminded, sheepishly, of Isiah 64: "Would that you might meet us doing right, that we were mindful of you in our ways! Behold, you are angry, and we are sinful; all of us have become like unclean men, all our good deeds are like polluted rags."

Being nice to a stranger for two minutes is not difficult. It's not a sacrifice. It doesn't make me draw upon God for strength or challenge me to humble myself. It is absolutely a good thing to do, but it is not, as I would term it, a "good deed." It's not worthy of a sticker on my Cross.

Scripture readings this week have been reiterating the same points to me: do not fear the truth, but act always in love. I have no problem acting in love to strangers. I'm overtly kind to waitresses and grocery checkers. I always wave to construction workers. I make eye contact and smile at people I pass on the street. I'm even patient and nice to telemarketers. That stuff is easy. But I struggle with how to act with love towards my family. I am very bad about loving people when they mock the principles I hold dearest. I find it hard to be nice to family members who treat others with disdain or cruelty. I frequently fail to keep my tone sweet when talking to my children, or hold my temper when they act contrarily or make constant demands.

I have been praying a Litany of Humility daily to remind myself that I must do things not for the way they make me feel, but for love of God and a sincere desire to please Him.

Oh Jesus, meek and humble of heart, hear me.
From the desire of being esteemed,
deliver me Jesus.
From the desire of being loved,
deliver me Jesus.
From the desire of being extolled,
deliver me Jesus.
From the desire of being honored,
deliver me Jesus.
From the desire of being praised,
deliver me Jesus.
From the desire of being preferred,
deliver me Jesus.
From the desire of being consulted,
deliver me Jesus.
From the desire of being approved,
deliver me Jesus.

From the fear of being humiliated,
deliver me Jesus.
From the fear of being despised,
deliver me Jesus.
From the fear of suffering rebukes,
deliver me Jesus.
From the fear of being calumniated,
deliver me Jesus.
From the fear of being forgotten,
deliver me Jesus.
From the fear of being ridiculed,
deliver me Jesus.
From the fear of being wronged,
deliver me Jesus.
From the fear of being suspected,
deliver me Jesus.

That others may be loved more than I,
Jesus grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may be esteemed more than I,
Jesus grant me the grace to desire it.
That in the opinion of the world, others may increase and I may decrease,
Jesus grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may be chosen and I set aside,
Jesus grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may be praised and I unnoticed,
Jesus grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may be preferred to me in everything,
Jesus grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may become holier than I, provided that I become as holy as I should,
Jesus grant me the grace to desire it. AMEN

Just a note: my trip to visit family was probably the best one I've ever had. Most of that wasn't my doing. There really weren't any situations that taxed my patience or made me uncomfortable. Everyone was happy, nice, relaxed and considerate the whole time. But I felt different while I was there. I didn't feel pressure to DO anything or say the exact right thing that might fix all the problems. I just concentrated on being loving and quiet. That didn't mean I never said a thing; but I never had an agenda, if that makes sense. If it weren't for the plane trips next to a squealing, flailing, grabbing, whining, demanding, fussing, peeing, spilling, toy-flinging toddler, it would have been the perfect vacation!

Wonder of wonders...

...miracle of miracles!

I wanted to take a brief moment and post here about an outstanding, completely unexpected breakthrough that occurred in my marriage recently.

My husband came up with a plan that allows us to give to charity every month.

For the last five years (ever since I gave up working outside the home) my husband has insisted that we have no money to give to charity. Though I felt comfortable tithing 10% of my own paycheck, once that disappeared I had nothing I could count as my own. So I gave away whatever cash came into my hands from family members, as gifts for my birthday or Christmas, change from buying lunch or coffee, etc.

About the time I began this blog, I decided to commit myself entirely to my husband's vision for our finances. I ceased asking him about charity and instead devoted my energies to spending as little of our money as I could. I turned over to my husband every penny I received as a gift, even though it offended my family members who intended it as "play money." My intention was to remove myself from the argument and really, wholeheartedly work for unity in my marriage. I wasn't going to change his mind, so it seemed the best idea was to embrace his plans and make them my own. I had some idea that he would be pleased to see me making an active investment in our financial future, and proud of my ability to spend wisely. I even thought God might reward my efforts with some sort of major change of heart, perhaps even a windfall of money that would allow us to start adoption proceedings.

As of November, this was looking to be a dismal failure. I was frustrated by my inability to keep to our monthly budget and exhausted by the mental effort it required to plan each grocery trip down to the last penny and deny myself practically everything I wanted to buy (goat cheese, home decor, clothes, replacement sneakers, snacks at the mall, visits to the chiropractor, etc.) Each time I put the pine nuts back on the shelf at the store, or adjusted the books in my daughter's broken cubby, I mentally fumed that these sacrifices were totally for naught. We weren't saving any money at all. To make matters worse, my husband hadn't even noticed. He was growing more and more concerned about our finances, to the point where he was having trouble sleeping from the stress. I felt I had no incentive to keep up my careful regimen even though I knew it was right and good to do so. I felt like our situation would never change, and I wondered why God didn't seem to be doing anything to change it.

By the grace of God and guidance of the Holy Spirit, I refrained from sharing any of my feelings with my husband. I just kept on as I had been, and instead of giving me cash, my family started buying us groceries and home improvements. In December however, directly on the heels of going over-budget in November and with Christmas looming ever closer, I gave in to despair and made an offhand comment along the lines of: "it's never going to be enough for you." He was offended, rightly so, and countered, "you have made it perfectly clear you don't care about our finances."

Somehow, I managed to refrain from defending myself, pointing out all the sacrifices I was making and all the effort I had put into "his" vision, the pain it caused me to turn away from homeless people on the street and the tears I cried every time the collection basket went past me at Church. But I was preparing to scrap the whole experiment and start hiding money from him and giving it away behind his back. The only reason I didn't is that I had none to give, it being December and all.

Yet within two weeks, he wrote me an email to say he'd been spending a lot of time pondering the situation, and suggested that any remaining money at the end of the month could be split, 50/50, into savings and charity. I can't express to you my surprise and delight, or how unexpected his gesture truly was. There was no lead up to his sudden acceptance of my desires and subsequent factoring in of them to the family plan.

Nor was it anything I did, or anything I said, to change his mind. In the past, we had argued about this endlessly without coming to any satisfactory conclusion: I confidently asserted that we would be blessed if we gave from our hearts, he said we had no money to waste. I explained my beliefs about stewardship and responsibility to those less fortunate, he said we could help them when we weren't struggling to pay our own bills. Yet even though nothing in our money situation changed, even though we aren't yet at the point where we have 6 months income in a savings account for emergencies and even with the house in need of immediate repairs, he just decided that we could do this and then came up with a plan to make it work. I can only deduce it was the hand of God working in him. And therein lies the miracle.

It's not the plan I would have chosen, of course. It's actually better because it fulfills BOTH our interests. And because my husband came up with it himself, I feel like it's a gift he's given me, rather than a battle I've won at the expense of his pride.

So we have a charity account now! And I have direct incentive to refrain from spending frivolously; if I am under budget each month, some of that money will go to help the poor. It just makes it so much easier to brave the crowds at Costco knowing that there's a larger purpose to my sacrifices. And for the first time, I feel my husband and are are truly united in our marriage and our finances. We are working together towards each of our goals. This is so much better than a windfall of money (though if God has one planned I won't turn it down!)

I am thrilled and filled with new hope. I truly consider this a miracle, and I am wholly thankful for it.

Picture credit.

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.

Peanut Butter Blues

I've been volunteering on Thursday mornings with Catholic Charities in my area. I like the work; I'm tutoring an immigrant woman from Sudan and visiting with an elderly lady (and trying to help her son find a job.) It's nothing earth shattering, but I like the people and I'm glad to be doing something concrete for others.

On my way home I always pass the same intersection, where there is usually a homeless man with a sign: "Anything will help, even a smile!"

I used to see homeless people all the time. My college town was full of them, as were the cities I lived in after graduating. It was common for me to pass three or four homeless people on my way to work every morning, and the same ones again when I went out to lunch or on my way home. So I got used to carrying dollars in my pocket and handing out leftovers after lunch. If I had nothing, I gave them at least the dignity of eye contact and a smile or a wave.

It bothers me exceedingly that I can give nothing to this homeless man. The first time I drove by him and saw the sign I had a bag of apples that one of the people I help had given me. So I rolled down the window and handed it to him. The second time I saw him, I had nothing but a smile, so I gave that and he waved and smiled back.

Well, last Thursday morning I was determined to give him something substantial, even though I couldn't give him any money. So I made him a lunch. I made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, put in an apple, some carrot sticks, a piece of chocolate and a bottle of water. I even put a little encouraging note in the bag and set it on the front seat in preparation for quick handing out the passenger window.

He wasn't there.

I even circled around the block and went into a store to make sure I wasn't just early and had missed him. Nope, no one. Empty corner.

I could have cried, not only because I wanted to do something for him and had been thwarted, but because the incident served to highlight once again that I am operating under severe limitations. I am not free to help people when I see them. I have to be prepared to do good, I have to find creative ways to give, and, as in this case, it often means I can do nothing.

The crux of my problem, though, is a bit more personal. I hate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I only made one because it's the only kind of sandwich filling we had in the house. I never buy cold cuts (meat only twice a week doesn't allow for that, not to mention the expense and presence of preservatives.) But here I was, driving home utterly disappointed with this sack lunch that would go to waste if I didn't eat it. The sandwich wouldn't keep for a week, and I'd used the wrong kind of jam to serve it to my son (those of you with children will understand. "Mommy! This jelly has lumps!" and it's summarily rejected.)

So I had to eat it. Have I mentioned how I hate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches? I had to swallow past my gag reflex a couple times and disguise the taste with the carrot sticks. Let me confess to you how stupid I felt offering up my difficulty eating it for the homeless man, who was likely sitting hungry somewhere at that very moment. But it really was a sacrifice for me to eat it.

And now I'm torn. Do I make another sack lunch for him next week? If I don't and I see him, I'll be kicking myself for days that I missed the opportunity to do something for him. But if I do and he's not there...I just REALLY don't want to eat another peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

I should make him a lunch. Cardinal George eats sandwiches he doesn't like. St. Therese of Lisieux would probably go so far as to eat a PB&J every day just as she did the leftover food the other nuns rejected.

Meh. I really wish I could just hand him $5. If nothing else, I think this is why God has put this obstacle in my path. It's a hard lesson to learn, but the truth is that handing over a 5 spot won't do as much for my soul as choking down a sandwich I despise will.

Still, I really hope he's there next week.

Picture credit.

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.

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Stewardship Sunday

Today was Stewardship of Treasure Commitment Sunday at my parish. That's a long and fancy way of saying that they pass out the envelopes and ask everyone to write down a weekly or yearly pledge. Fr. Andrew gave an excellent homily addressed to the "5 groups of people in this congregation." The first group was those who have never given and have no intention of giving to the parish. And I had to sit there and listen to the message, knowing that I was part of that group. I wanted to stand up and yell, "I'd give, but my husband won't let me!"

It's so frustrating. I know God is aware of our family situation right now and I know that He wants me NOT to give. Truly, it's not that I care that the office clerk is going to tally up my envelopes for the year and shake her head and think, "Another family who gave nothing." What makes me so annoyed is that the church NEEDS my gift and I'm unable to do anything about it. Our parish is redoing the sanctuary starting tomorrow (there's a special Mass tonight and procession to move the Eucharist into its new spot in the school gym) and I can't be a part of it. They still need 7 million dollars to finish the reconstruction, but I can't give. Our community has hungry and needy that the parish cares for, but I can't participate. (Yes, I can donate spare goods -- which I have -- but the primary need is monetary. I worked for a nonprofit and frankly, unless you're Goodwill those material donations are more of a hindrance than a help. People like new things, many children's toys and equipment get recalled or are no longer usable, and the donations don't always exactly match the needs of the community. Money is really the best way to help.)

I don't want to be in the first group! I want to be in the last group, the group that tithes 10% every year and has only to readjust their pledge to accurately reflect any new income.

I had a strange conversation with my husband the other day. I'd found this site from one of the adoption blogs I'm following and had mentioned it with some excitement. "We wouldn't have to wait as long to find the money; we could start the adoption process next year!" My husband looked pained. "Isn't it need based? Because there's no way we'd qualify. We have too many assets."

"What do you mean, wouldn't qualify? Aren't we like, thousands of dollars in debt?"

"In my head we are." I must have looked poleaxed because he explained, "I sold stock to cover the debt. You know that."

This is the sort of thing that always made me nuts about economics and business when I had to take them in high school. I don't care what state the money exists in. I don't care if it's in a savings account, or it's stock, or it's cash under the mattress. There's only two kinds of money: assets and credit. We use our assets to make payments and our credit to purchase things that would take too long to save up for (a car, a house, etc.) Good financial stewardship means maintaining sufficient assets to make all required monthly credit payments and cover the expenses of living, while setting money aside for emergency savings, retirement, and significant future expenses (college, down payments on a house, etc.) Everything else is window dressing as far as I'm concerned.

If our assets were sufficient to cover our debt, it means we have no debt. We DO, of course, have house payments, car payments, insurance payments, school fees and a host of other expenses, but that's not the problem. My husband isn't saying that we can't give to charity or adopt a child until we own our own home. I misunderstood from his email that timing was an issue in this matter. Based on what I know now, I don't think it is. The stock has been sold already. We're not racking up interest payments on the debt anymore. So why can't we do a 1/2 and 1/2 sort of thing? How about we live frugally, pinching money wherever possible, then whatever we save, 1/2 goes into an account to offset the amount of the recent debt, and the rest gets put toward charity or adoption?

I don't know whether to bring this up to him. I'm really doing a VERY POOR job of humbling myself and waiting for God's time on this issue, but I'm just having such trouble justifying the delay. People need our help NOW and we can't even set a firm timetable for when we would be in a position to give. It's all this arbitrary, subjective point where we've put "enough" into a savings account. "They recommend you have an emergency fund equal to three months worth of expenses," says my husband. "How much would that be?" I asked.

The answer? Twice the current amount of our "debt."

I almost fell through the floor. How does the situation keep changing and our debt keep getting bigger and the wait keep getting longer?

"Well what about adoption?" I said. "Is that something we'd sell stock to cover, or would we save up for that?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I guess we could sell stock."

I didn't ask the follow up question to that, which was, So, if we sell stock for an adoption, does our "debt" then increase by $30K? Is that ANOTHER threshold we have to meet before we can give money to charity?

Pray for me, please. It's all I can do right now to not shake the man. I'm succeeding in having these conversations with him rationally and calmly. I'm truly seeking to understand his point of view and accept his decisions.

But I'm really having a hard time.

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Monday's Gospel

Reflections on Scripture:

There was a scholar of the law who stood up to test him and said, "Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?" Jesus said to him, "What is written in the law? How do you read it?" He said in reply, 'You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your being, with all your strength, and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself." He replied to him, "You have answered correctly; do this and you will live."

But because he wished to justify himself, he said to Jesus, "And who is my neighbor?" Jesus replied, "A man fell victim to robbers as he went down from Jerusalem to Jericho. They stripped and beat him and went off leaving him half-dead. A priest happened to be going down that road, but when he saw him, he passed by on the opposite side. Likewise a Levite came to the place, and when he saw him he passed by on the opposite side. But a Samaritan traveler who came upon him was moved with compassion at the sight. He approached the victim, poured oil and wine over his wounds and bandaged them. Then he lifted him up on his own animal, took him to an inn and cared for him. The next day he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper with the instruction, 'Take care of him. If you spend more than what I have given you, I shall repay you on my way back.' Which of these three, in your opinion, was neighbor to the robbers' victim?" He answered, "The one who treated him with mercy." Jesus said to him, "Go and do likewise."

Luke, 10 25-37

I was struck, first of all, by the order of God's commandment. Love God first, with all your soul, being, mind and strength. Then love your neighbor as yourself. As a child, I struggled with understanding why God would ask first that we love Him, when there are so many people in need in the world. Surely, as many agnostics and atheists claim, the service of others is the highest form of giving, the most noble exercise of our human faculties. And the parable of the Good Samaritan seems to underscore this. Isn't the point that if I'm on my way to church and happen across an accident, I should skip Mass and tend to the victims of the crash? Or if I have limited funds, aren't they better spent feeding the homeless than contributing to the fund my opulent Catholic cathedral has set up to clean and maintain its mosaics?

Well, yes. And no.

Now that I have children of my own, I understand a bit more the love God has for us, and His desire that we form a relationship with Him. I think about how I would feel if my son grew up, became a priest and went to Kenya, but we were estranged. He would be doing exactly what I want, living according to the values I'm trying to instill in him, and serving the world in the way I most desire. Yet how can it make me happy for him to do all this and shut me entirely out of his life? I would be proud of him, of course, and very, very happy if he found fulfillment in his vocation. But it would be an empty sort of feeling because I couldn't share in it with him.

God must feel the same way when we put anything else before our relationship with him. Yes, we are called to both love God and serve one another, but first and foremost we must love God. We have to be sure that the rituals and requirements of our faith don't prevent us from doing God's will. That's the point of the parable, where the Levite and priest allowed the strict regulations governing ritual washing to keep them from tending to the man in need. But that doesn't mean we're meant to disregard our obligation to put God first. So yes, if I'm on my way to Mass and see an accident, I should stop and help. And then I should give up my lunch, or my football game, so I can attend a later Mass. If my cathedral, which is the house of God, is in need of repair, then I should forgo buying a new coffee table to help repair it. Then I will have money both for God's house and for the homeless.

The second part of Jesus' commandment resonates with me the most powerfully: love your neighbor as yourself. Every time I think about that, I'm amazed again by the level of love God's asking of us. Not just be nice to people, or refrain from hurting them, but LOVE them. Love them in the same way you love yourself.

I love myself pretty darn much, gotta tell you. I buy myself things for no other reason than just to make me happy. I'm concerned with my health, I surround myself with friends and comfort and beauty. I make sure to give myself as much sleep as I need (though my kids sometimes thwart this effort.) I take myself on vacations to the mountains and drink wine at every opportunity. I foster my relationship with God often throughout the day. This is how much I'm supposed to love others. I'm supposed to be as consumed with their health, comfort, salvation and happiness as I am with my own. That's a really, really big love God asks of us.

Finally, I'm always humbled by the fact that even though the scholar knew the law extremely well (so well as to encapsulate it in one perfect, brief, commandment) he had no idea what the law was really about. Jesus told him all he had to do was to act in accordance with his beliefs "Go and do this and you will live." and immediately he "seeks to justify himself." In other words, to find a loophole or exemption that wouldn't require him to actually change his lifestyle or interactions.

I identify so strongly with him. Aren't I sitting here, asking God for guidance, and then making excuses whenever He prompts me?

God is always calling us to better ourselves, to sacrifice more, pray more, serve more. What are the excuses we're making? I've been meaning for weeks now to make a trip to my local nursing home and see if they need volunteers. And what's been running through my mind? I don't know where a nursing home is (as though I couldn't look in the book and find one.) I don't want to take my 4-year old until he learns how to behave better (as though I couldn't go when he's at Montessori.) I don't want my daughter to catch an illness (as though the elderly have more germs than the kids in the cry room at Mass!) Isn't there always an excuse not to do something? Isn't there always a way we can justify our inaction or our sins?

Nike doesn't have a bad answer to this: Just do it.

Ambition and Kairos

I had an interesting conversation with my mom a few days ago. I sent her this link from Et Tu, Jen?'s Weekly Favorites and while discussing it we broached the subject of feminine ambition.

Though I hadn't really thought too much about it, I immediately said that I wasn't ambitious. I did well in school because I was expected to and because I liked being in the honors classes with my friends. It didn't hurt that I liked to read, so at least English, History, French and Religion were interesting and fairly easy for me. Still, I didn't work as hard as I could have (especially in college) and I performed up to the standards other people set for me rather than aiming for greatness in myself. Once I graduated, I cared only that my job be in the nonprofit sector where I could do some good; I had little interest in climbing the corporate ladder and even within the organizations where I worked, I never sought to gain management or leadership positions.

"I mean really, the only thing I've ever cared about is serving God. "

Immediately my mom replied, "Well, that's more than most people aim for."

I shrugged. "I don't know. Isn't it just the minimum expected of us as Christians?" And we moved on to other things.

But I've thought about the conversation more since then and come to realize that I am highly ambitious. Deeply, thoroughly, loftily ambitious. Serving God is an ambition, perhaps one of the most difficult and exhausting goals that exist in this world. And it's something I've always aspired to, even when I've fallen pathetically short. Which I have. Often.

If my primary ambition then is to serve God, and if I am serving Him in humility and obedience, then why do I allow myself to feel small because I'm not out there doing something for the world? Am I sure that what I want is really what God wants from me?

For years now I've felt that I failed God, that I gave up on my dreams of serving the poor in Africa because of weakness and selfishness. I wanted to get married. And so that's what I did. Had I possessed ambition or strength of will, I would have trusted God and followed Him instead of grabbing at the best man I could find and working on him until he proposed (after I'd booked the hall and Church, btw.)

It's true that I didn't follow my plan to live in Africa and work with the poor. That doesn't mean I'm not serving God. It doesn't mean I've given up on my dreams. The manner in which I serve God may be different than I had originally planned, but I am no less His.

Nor have my ambitions been compromised. I still want nothing less than to dedicate my entire self to Him. Wherever He wants me to go, I'll go. Whatever He wants me to do, I'll do. Even when I don't want to do it. Even when the very thought of it makes me cry.

My husband sent me a beautiful, bittersweet email the other day. He had to sell some stock to cover our debt, and discovered it's twice the amount we'd feared it was. He proposed setting up a separate account into which we could dump any money we saved by spending less on groceries, giving up eating out, canceling our cable, etc., etc. until we'd paid off the debt. At that point, he pledged, he'd be much more open to giving to charity.

Part of me rejoiced. A plan! Wonderful! A committment to really saving money! Tremendous! A promise to be charitable! Praise God!

Then I did some calculations. Years. That's what we're talking here. YEARS of limiting our grocery bills, living without new clothes or furniture, scrimping as much as possible in hopes of paying down this debt. The scrimping I can handle. We've always lived simply. But years to go before I can give anything to help the hungry? I was thinking a year at the most, just to get us back on our feet from the move and give my husband some time to reflect on the many blessings we have to share with others. When I decided to stop pressuring my husband to give to charity and instead focus all my efforts on paying down our debt, I certainly wasn't thinking years...

What annoys me so much is that we haven't accumulated this debt with any sort of excessive living. This is the result of adhering to our values. Had my husband taken a job with a big defense firm in Chicago when he graduated law school, he would have made four times the salary he got at the small, consumer rights firm at which he did take a position. Even his salary now is half what it would be if he practiced corporate law instead of consumer law. Part of me is wondering what God's up to. We're in this debt because we were trying to do the right thing, and because of this debt we can't give any money to charity and we can't adopt a child from Kazakhstan and we can't afford wine which God quite CLEARLY wants us to consume great quantities of. (Wedding Feast at Cana anyone? Last Supper? Drinking wine is practically a commandment!)

It took me a while to calm my soul and see that I'm trying to over-control things again. There are things I desperately want to do, like adopt a child and send money to Africa. I want to do these things NOW. But God is saying no. I don't know why. I don't know if it's temporary, or if it's something I'm never meant to have and never meant to do. Only God knows that.

My response now must be to wait on Kairos -- His time. If God wills that I go to Africa someday (and I pray He does) then it will happen when HE wants it to, in the appointed time that He decides. If it is God's will that we expand our family through adoption, then that, too, will happen when the time is right. If it is God's will that we give generously to those in need, then I must wait for the opportunity He will provide.

I've been angry that the things I'm reaching for remain so firmly out of my reach. I try a ladder and it's knocked away from me. I ask for help and am met with indifference. But all my stretching won't get me somewhere God doesn't want me to be. When things don't come together despite my best attempts, I need to stop, back away, and turn to God.

I'm listening, Lord. Show me what You want me to do.


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Ask and Ye Shall Receive

I want to thank everyone for their insightful and supportive comments, especially for the recommendations to read up on St. Frances of Rome (could there be a more perfect patron saint for my situation!) and to wait for God's time in finding a solution to my problem.

For a while now I've been praying that God will guide me, and He has. Through Scripture, through the words of the priest at daily Mass, through conversations with people, the insights on my friends' blogs and the inspiration of the Saints, He's spoken to me.

My son's Godparents, both good Catholics and close friends of mine, gave me The Story of a Soul by St. Therese of the Little Flower, which I've been reading off and on. (It's one of the books by my nursing chair, so it entirely depends how cooperative my youngest decides to be as to whether or not I get to read any of it each day.) So many things have struck me in her story, but foremost above all is the simple, faithful, all-encompassing love she had for God, even as a very young child. She wanted nothing so much as to love Him and serve Him. Loving Him and serving Him brought her joy.

That's how I feel about the poor. I have an inherent love for them within me that's been there since I was a child. I don't try to help the poor because I believe that it's good and right to do so (though it is,) or because God instructs us to care for those in need (though He does.) I do it because my love for the poor rises up and shakes me into action. I recognize this now as a gift. God wants me to serve the poor, of that I'm certain. He would not have put this drive in me for no purpose.

But the key is that I serve Him in the way HE wants, not the way I want. Some of you have touched on this in your comments to me, and I've really taken them to heart. I think it's telling that my gut reaction to Jen's idea of fundraising was "God no, NO! Anything but that." and to Anna's suggestion to step back was "But then my husband WINS."

This isn't the reaction of someone who's seeking to serve God and follow His will. It's the reaction of a hyper-controlling, uptight, Type-A personality. My way obviously isn't working right now, so I need to find a new way. God's way.

I read once that the Mongols (or perhaps the Huns?) were so successful in battle because they were taught to fight like water, finding cracks in the defense and working their way through bit by bit until they overcame. This image has been churning around in my head the past week or so. I feel like my desire to help the poor is the current of a river -- it's flowing intensely within me right now, urging me on. And I keep running up against the dam of my marriage. It's making me frustrated and swelling my resentment of my husband. The force of my drive to help is causing me harm.

And God is gently trying to redirect this river, opening up channels to provide relief and continue the flow of water to where it's needed. Am I really going to keep butting up against the dam when other avenues exist?

I've talked again with my husband about our money situation. We had the exact same circular argument we always have, just with different words. For him, it all comes down to our debt. For me, it all comes down to our choices. We can't work together unless we're on the same page, and he's made it quite clear that he can't change to meet me.

So I must take on his focus as my own.

I can commit myself to doing everything in my power to pay down our debt. I can forgo all things for myself, including pizza (woe!) and gifts. I can do my best to save money wherever and whenever I can, including on our grocery bills and clothes for the kids. After all, I'm doing all that stuff anyway. But instead of fighting my husband to send the money we "save" to the poor, I can turn it over to him for our debt.

In some ways, this is all semantics because I don't really have a choice as to what I do. I have to save money. I can't give money to the poor. So it seems almost self-delusional to now claim that I'm doing these things for God. But a true Christian spirit is to take the things God gives us and turn them back over to Him, to accept with love and grace the burdens He places on us and to carry them cheerfully for Him. I cannot change my situation, so I will instead change my attitude. What a beautiful gift for God -- my heart and will instead of my money!

The hardest part, and I still don't know how I'm going to handle this, is what I do when my husband makes a decision I completely disagree with. These don't come very often, thankfully. I'm blessed that my husband is even more frugal than I am and would never just go out and buy $20,000 of home entertainment equipment on a whim (yes, I do know someone who has done this.) But I can't force this commitment on him. If he wants to spend five hundred dollars traveling to our alma mater for a football game, my sacrifice is to say nothing to him about it and go on quietly working to save money on my own.

I feel this is where I'm really going to have problems. I'm not very good at letting things go. Or with trusting God. Or with patiently waiting. And the underlying marital disconnect is still there. I just need to find a way that it doesn't affect me as much. I think making this sacrifice will help. I'm doing it partly for my husband -- this debt is obviously very important to him. I'm doing it partly for the poor, in the hopes that once the debt is gone we can move towards a lifestyle that incorporates giving generously to charity. But I'm mostly doing it for God, in obedience to the path He's setting out for me.

It's here that I'm so inspired by the example of St. Frances of Rome. What she wanted most in life was to be a nun, yet she spent all but 4 years of her life carrying out the domestic tasks required of a noblewoman's wife. Through it all she found ways to serve God, often doing things she hated, like attending a party with her mother in law. Like it or not, this is my path. I can choose to go where God directs me, or stagnate and grow angry forcing my own way. I choose God's path.

I have a new mantra, in addition to the one I say to help me be a better mother ("Mary, my model, be with me and guide me.") It is "My all for you, my God." I hope the frequent repetition of it helps remind me that everything I'm doing is for Him and worthy of being done with joy.

Picture Credit

An Embarassment of Riches

It's hard to say where I am...well, where we are in terms of unity in our marriage. I'm struggling to discern God's design for me. On the one hand, I feel so strongly called to take care of the poor, but on the other, I've already made a commitment to take care of my marriage. I can't help one at the expense of the other.

Last week I ran an experiment. My husband and I had both watched the 60 Minutes documentary on Darfur, and we discovered that we fundamentally disagreed as to whether there was money in our budget for a donation. Rather than argue about whether we could afford it, I asked him what we could sacrifice. After some thought, he replied that he didn't want to make any sacrifices right now.

"You're kidding, right?"

"I know my limitations," he replied.

I was at a loss. We've had this discussion so many times and never get anywhere with it. So I simply said, "I'll find the money." And we went to bed. As I lay there praying and thinking, wondering how I could find an extra $100 without having the family sacrifice anything, it occurred to me that I spend $106 every week on groceries. (I don't really know how that number comes about; it just happens to be the total every time the cashier rings me up.)

I wondered...could I go a whole week without grocery shopping? What did we have? There was ground beef in the freezer, a cornish hen from when I bought three and only two would fit in the crock pot at a time, some homemade chicken soup I'd frozen months ago, a head of broccoli, some green beans, 1/2 an eggplant, a red pepper or two, a bag of carrots, a couple onions, 6 eggs and plenty of rice, beans, condiments, pasta and spices. Would it last a week?

I realized right away I'd have to buy something. Every morning my husband has a bowl of cereal with banana, and every afternoon he has an apple with peanut butter. I'd have to buy milk, apples and peanut butter or he would definitely feel that he was sacrificing. And the point was to do something for Darfur without affecting my family. Ideally, I would come to him after a week and say, "I didn't grocery shop this week. We did okay, didn't we? How about we give the money we saved to Darfur?"

I don't know whether to characterize it as hard or not. It was different. Almost immediately, I started to run out of things. Chili powder. Butter. Flour. Onions. Sugar. Eggs. Tomatoes. We'd invited guests for dinner on Friday night, so I had to entertain in the middle of this whole experiment. Overall, it was a success -- we ate a balanced, healthy, satisfying meal every night and I provided my husband with lunch to take to work every day. We were never hungry. It wasn't until Monday when he ran out of cereal that I brought him in on the whole idea, and he agreed to eat oatmeal for three days until I next went to the store.

I did things I'd never done before, like grate up a broccoli stalk and add it to chicken broth for our lunch. Normally I just throw the stalks out. Instead of cheese and crackers for a midafternoon snack, I popped some corn kernels. I substituted for lots of things I didn't have and tried new recipes when my usual ones wouldn't work. The thing that struck me the most was how much of my time I spent worrying about food, and how diligent I was at conserving it. I sat down at the start of the week and took stock of everything we had to plan out the menu. It didn't allow for any deviation. Monday's meal was crock pot beef bourguignon with a handful of green beans and the remaining 1/2 bag of egg noodles. So I couldn't touch any of that until Monday, even though Sunday's dinner could have used it.

And in so many ways, God provided. I'd planned to attend a prayer rally at my church on Saturday night. They advertised a "light supper" in between the 5:30 Mass and the speaker, so I planned it into our week. No cooking Saturday night. We'd just make do with whatever they served. Hot dogs? Pasta salad? Cheese and fruit? I hoped it'd be enough to satisfy our family and count as a meal. To my astonished delight, the Indonesian community at our parish prepared a feast for us. We had skewered chicken with peanut satay sauce, beef and vegetable crepes, rice with sweet soy sauce, salad, meatball soup, and cupcakes for desert. Not just enough food...bountiful, delicious, remarkable food. I was so grateful to God I nearly cried.

We only made it through the week, of course, because we had so much food already in the house. I think more than anything, it turned out to be a statement about how blessed we are. Even when my fridge is empty, my cupboards are still full. If we had to, we could have gone on longer, but at that point we would definitely have been compromising the nutritional content of our dinners.

Yet the success of the week wasn't the whole point of the experiment. Overarching the entire thing was my hope that it would set up another dialogue with my husband about giving to charity and where that fits into our lives. On that front, the week was less than successful.

When we talked about it, my husband agreed we could give $100 to Darfur. I'm grateful for that, and encouraged by it. But I don't know where we go from here. It's not like any time I want to give to charity I can just stop grocery shopping for a week. Besides the fact that it requires considerable reserves (and the intervention of my parish's Indonesian community) my husband doesn't consider it "saved money." To him, there is no difference between spending $50 on a skirt and spending $40 on a skirt then giving $10 to charity. We're out $50. I can't argue with his math, obviously, because that's fact. But to me, if our budget allows $50 for clothing, then buying something on sale should allow us to spend the extra on something else. Charity, for instance.

Without taking paragraphs and paragraphs to detail our fruitless, circular discussions, I'll just say that my husband feels the only things we should be spending money on right now are necessary items. However, he and I disagree on what constitutes a necessary item. In the interest of unity, and for the sake of my marriage, I want to resolve this in a way that makes both of us happy. I know we are a partnership, and therefore I can't force him to do something he doesn't want to do, but is it right for him to prevent me from the exercise of my faith?

Because that's what this is. God calls all of us to care for the poor. Stewardship is as much a requirement of my faith as Mass attendance and adherence to the doctrines of the Church. I don't know what the middle ground may be, but I know in my heart that it's not right for me to simply give up. I'm praying about this, asking God to help me discern what is pride and what is truth, for Mary and St. Elizabeth of Hungary to intercede for me, for Christ (who showed unflagging love and consideration for the poor while he was on Earth) to show me His way, and for the Holy Spirit to guide my words. I trust that God will find a way and give me the strength to follow it.

Unity in the midst of Strife

A conversation I had with a friend of mine the other day has me thinking about unity; specifically: the unity of a married couple where one partner disagrees with the other on a matter of moral responsibility.

Specifically: my marriage, in which my husband and I disagree on the manner in which we should spend our money.

I started this blog to track my efforts to do more for the poor in my everyday life, but I haven't been posting so much about the main struggle that I'm encountering. My husband is a good man, highly ethical, supportive and a good provider. We make a perfect match, actually, because he is pragmatic while I am idealistic. As I told him the other day "Together you and I make a good person." Without him, we would be in fantastical debt. Our bills might not be paid. Our children's future would be entirely unsecured. We certainly wouldn't have a house without his responsible stewardship of our credit rating.

But he does not think we can afford to give anything to charity at the moment. In the past, when I've come to him with a certain cause I want to contribute to, he has agreed on the condition that we cut back on something we're currently paying for. My Netflix subscription, for example, was canceled so we would have money to give the Archdiocese of Chicago for their annual campaign.

In general, I think his method is both morally and financially sound. I don't need a Netflix subscription (good bye, dear historical romances.) I feel much better about giving money to my church than spending it on entertainment. But as of right now, there's nothing more we can chip away at to find extra money. We're living frugally and responsibly. So if we want to give to charity (which I do) we have to start giving up the things we need to share with others.

The paint is an example. I want to give equal the amount we've just spent on painting our house to refugees from the Darfur conflict. So I suggested that instead of painting the rest of the walls this weekend, which we had planned to do, we wait another month so we have money to give to Darfur. To put it simply, I was met with resistance.

And this is my quandary. I don't have any money of my own. Neither does my husband. The money he makes at his job, we share. The money I've made, we share. We are a unit, a partnership, and neither of us can act unilaterally.

Yet what to do when my conscience urges me to spend in a way that he disagrees with? How much say should one partner have over the other's spending habits, especially in a marriage where we trust each other to make responsible financial decisions for the general good of our family?

As a Catholic, I know that my marriage is a vocation. It is through it that I am called to serve God. Subsuming my own desires for the sake of my marriage is absolutely necessary, even when those desires aren't directed for my own benefit. My mother has counseled me numerous times to simply leave the issue alone, to serve the poor in non-monetary ways. For the most part, I try to do this. But I am called so strongly to do something for the poorest of the poor, particularly in Africa where my heart has always been drawn.

Moreover, I know that we DO have money to give to charity. It is important for me to decorate our house and create a welcoming place for us to live, just like it is important for me to send my son to Montessori, to give him the best start possible in his education. Yet when it comes right down to it, neither of these things are so necessary that if my husband were to lose his job tomorrow, we wouldn't immediately stop spending money on them. There is money in our budget for Darfur, if we are creative and willing to sacrifice.

Yet if one partner is not willing to make that sacrifice, then what?

I'm attempting something this week which can be characterized as courageous or deceitful, depending on how you look at it. My hope is that it's courageous, and when I share my experiment with my husband, I hope he'll see it that way, too. I ask for your prayers as we work through this division, and for our future together. If anyone wishes to share their insight on unity in a marriage, believe me, I'm all ears!

Q & A

What is all this exactly?

Take the Poor With You is a way of thinking, mostly centered around awareness of the many people in this world who are much less privileged than I. When I am aware, I am grateful. When I'm grateful, I want to give back. My goal is to always be thinking globally, so that everything I do benefits the world instead of just myself.


What does that mean in practical terms?


The general guidelines are explained best in the "Three Rs to Remember" post. Basically, I am trying to reduce my consumption and live more simply, support companies that are responsible to the poor, and balance my spending on myself with donations to charities.


Why not just sell everything and go live on a commune in Africa?

Some people are called to that vocation. Others are called to support them. Jesus called us all to be His disciples, but He only called twelve to leave their families and walk with Him as He proclaimed the Gospel. In my vocation as a wife and mother, in my location in America, in my own capacity and with the talents God has given me, I want to do as much for the poor as I can. So while taking care of my family and providing a loving, God-centered home, I'm trying to live simply, be responsible with my money and time, and donate where I can to assist those who are directly ministering to the poor.


Is this some sort of religious thing?

I am a devout Catholic. Everything I am and everything I do will be impacted by my faith. Take the Poor With You is not about religion, it is about love. For some, the two are synonomous, but you don't need to be a Christian to understand that there are those who need our help, and we are morally bound to provide it if we can.


I work hard for my money. Why should I give it away?

If hard work were the only requirement for wealth and prosperity, then most of the world's rich people would be poor and most of the poor would be rich. The real disparity is not in effort, but in opportunity. So if we've been blessed with opportunities and talents, it's our responsibility first to make good use of them, and then to turn around and share them with others. That means building schools, providing food and humanitarian aid, working for justice and democracy, promoting fair trade and international business ethics, working to cure and prevent deadly diseases and ensuring that basic human rights are met in every country around the world.

If everyone adopted this method our economy would tank. We need motivated workers for businesses to succeed and active spending to support commercial enterprise. Living "simply" and giving to charity sound like good ideas in theory, but people just won't work as hard if there's no benefit for them.

There's plenty of benefit. It's the difference between enough and too much. Imagine a restaurant with two tables. The first is piled high with food: omletes, salad, roast beef, smoked salmon, honey glazed ham, onion rings, green beans almondine, spinach pies, bread of all kinds, drinks of all kinds. The people at that table are eating, laughing, talking with their friends, pushing back from the table and rubbing their stomachs. "Oh, I ate too much!" "I'm so full!" The other table has nothing but bread. Does it make sense for the first table to call out for dessert and tip the waitress to add extra chocolate sauce, when they are already so full they can't sit comfortably? Does it really matter in this scenario who has money and who doesn't? Will the restaurant go under if the first table buys a decent meal for the other table instead of ordering dessert?


The purpose of money is to buy things. Of course. But it's what we buy, why we buy it, and for whom that matters.



But you're taking things too far. Your posts sound like you consider it wrong to buy a chai at Starbucks. Shouldn't you enjoy life once in a while?

I think there's room for a discussion on why we enjoy buying things so much. We truly do not need most of the things we own. So why do we buy them? To impress our neighbors? To feel the pride of ownership? To soothe an anxiety or distract us from a worry? Simply because we can? Why do I want that chai latte? It isn't the caffine fix. I can spend 7 minutes boiling water for tea at home and it would jolt my system in the exact same way, and for pennies. A treat from Starbucks fills a desire in a specific way that homemade tea or free office coffee does not. THAT'S what we're buying. Starbucks, for the most part, treats their employees well and offers fair trade varieties of their coffee, so I'm not saying we shouldn't support Starbucks! I am saying that we cling to our rituals and our freedom to spend frivolously for the wrong reasons.


Of course we should enjoy ourselves once in a while. God is a loving father who wants to provide us with good things and see us happy. But we can think before buying that chai: is there someone who needs this money more than I? Can I buy a tall instead of a grande and donate the difference? Can I get a plain coffee instead of an iced frapuccino with caramel swirl and donate the difference? Can I donate the same amount I'm spending to charity? Can I go without coffee today and strengthen my will? How can I take the poor with me, right here, right now, and make a difference that matters?


And that's the point.

Accountability

Jennifer F. brought up a great point that I've been meaning to post about for a while :

...what is the best source for finding out which charitable organizations are reputable? How did you know, for example, that Heifer.org actually does what they say they do?

This is really important. If we're dedicating ourselves to improving the lot of the poor around the world, then accountability is essential. I want to give to a reputable organization whose purposes are in line with mine. And I want it run by someone innovative and intelligent who listens to the poor and works WITH them to give them what they need. I want to support an organization with a superb track-record and a history of success, as well as one whose finances are cross checked by certifying agencies.

In short, I want my contribution to really do something, not just ease my conscience by assuring me that "At least I tried."

The best way to help the poor, of course, is to give of ourselves by volunteering. Soup kitchens, Goodwill, Meals on Wheels, visiting the sick or elderly or imprisoned...there are countless ways to serve the poor in every neighborhood. DoSomething.org has a volunteer page where you can enter your zip and find a list of volunteer opportunities right in your area. No need for accountability here; we know because we perform the acts ourselves.

But the poor aren't just in our own communities. Take the Poor with You really entails thinking about the global community, and many of our decisions have an impact that goes far beyond our immediate area, or even beyond the borders of our nation. Reading the stickers and tags on the goods I bring into my house reveals a diversity of geographical locations. Coffee from Kenya. Cotton from Egypt. Tea from India. Copper from Chile. Plastics from China. If my lifestyle and choices are impacting people all over the world, then I should help people all over the world, too.

And those in other countries are often deprived not only of the material goods we enjoy, but the philosophical blessings we take for granted: freedom, rule of law, education, the possibility of employment, the right to life, the right to worship, etc. I can't help them by myself; it takes a network of trained professionals just to reach the poor, let alone help them.

The good news is that there are many groups serving the world's poorest populations. The US alone has 1.3 million charitable organizations! Going back to Jen's question now: how can we know which ones are reputable? We've all read about organizations that diverted funds earmarked for a disaster to other programs, or worse, charities that turned out to be frauds. Responsible stewardship necessitates being careful about spending, even when we're not spending it on ourselves.

One place to start is with one of the many watchdog groups that rate charities and provide that information to the public. It's important to keep in mind, as this article states, that every watchdog group has its own criteria, and it may or may not be in line with your own. Moreover, the rules governing what a charity must disclose and how it must categorize it aren't hard and fast (with good reason: there are so many different charities and various ways of operating that it's nearly impossible to come up with a black and white set of rules that can apply to everyone.) So ratings change from year to year and watchdog to watchdog. Some of this confusion can be ameliorated by knowing what's most important to you in your charity: is it the source of income? Efficiency in response? Low percentage of administrative costs? Program effectiveness? etc etc.

One of the best watchdog/ratings sites is the American Institute of Philanthropy, which has a "Top Rated" list of organizations broken down into easily searchable categories. Charities must achieve a B+ or better on AIP's criteria to qualify for the list. Their full compilation of charities and ratings is only in print form, but for those of us who are inclined to buy one, a sample copy is only $3.

My favorite site is the American Council for Voluntary International Action (InterAction for short.) I worked there after college and learned to highly respect its efforts and ethics. InterAction aims to coordinate the efforts of US-based non-governmental organizations and advocate for an increase in global humanitarian aid. It ensures minimum standards for every one of their 160 members, many of whom are at the forefront of the humanitarian community. It's my quick-check: if an organization is a member of Interaction, it's legit, responsible and progressive.

InterAction is limited to organizations that focus on global humanitarian aid, but Charity Navigator lists and rates organizations of all kinds. You can search by category, name or rating, and save your favorites in My Charities. Their articles are worth perusing, and I found an interesting study that assessed giving trends by US city. Denver isn't doing so well!

If you prefer to do your own research, start at the Independent Sector, which has complied a list of standards so you can browse through and see exactly what sort of guidelines an organization (such as Catholic Charities) operates under. This site is especially helpful for those of us who care about the specifics of an organization's operations. As a Catholic, it's very important to me that the charity I assist does not act against the moral principles of my faith. In addition, IS's list of publications contains fascinating studies on giving and volunteering as well as recommendations for how charities can serve as more responsible stewards of the public's generosity.

Finally, Give.org has detailed financial, administrative and program information on every charitable organization that operates in the US. If you want to see the exact breakdown of a charity's income and expenses, this is the site. It's also enables you to rate charities on your own criteria, giving you access to much of the same information that the watchdog groups use.

Take heart! Despite the bad apples, many charities are responsible and do excellent work. With a little research and a discerning eye, we can feel confident that our money is being well spent.