Checking In

I'm still here, just not posting much. I've been such a bad blogger of late. Mostly it's because I'm trying to get a handle on my real life. I found the camera, so I can show you!

This was the parlor with bins from the storeroom in the midst of being organized.


And here are the 5 big garbage bags of clothes donated to Catholic Charities, woo!

I still need to get the study taken care of as it's a huge disaster. I can't even vacuum in here. Baby is adorable and fun, older kids are wonderful though challenging in unique ways. Everything is busy and blessed.

I was thinking yesterday about my efforts to Take the Poor With Me and how limited my success has been because I'm so focused on my family and my home. In some ways, that's not a bad thing. I know my primary vocation is as a wife and mother and God calls me to focus my energies there for a reason. Also, I need to get a handle on our family spending; it blew way out of proportion while I was sick and we still haven't gotten ourselves back on track. Part of that is the vacation we took into the mountains last month, but a large part is also that I'm not taking the time to sit down in front of my spreadsheet. I need to find that time and break it all down or our money gets away from us like a herd of fleeing wildebeests.

However, it is a problem for this blog because instead of reading books and articles about the plight of the poor, I am reading books about food allergies and de-cluttering. Instead of giving money, I am volunteering my time, which gives me even less opportunity for research. Instead of blogging, I am cleaning and cooking.

I have been successful in my prayer life. Anna posted a while back about the power of her daily Rosary, and I've been inspired to dedicate a decade each time I pray. The immediate benefit is that it has brought me a huge amount of peace. Mostly I am praying for the future (my children's chastity, their vocations, our adoption, my husband's conversion) and knowing that I am able to do something NOW about these hugely important issues is very comforting.

I've also been praying for those who suffer. It's so hard for me to calm my spirit when I am troubled by the state of the world. Even something like watching a few minutes of Fiddler on the Roof while the baby is nursing will torment my heart for days. If I can do nothing else for the poor of this world, I can pray for them. I say a Trinity Prayer (Our Father Hail Mary Glory Be) while I wash dishes or fold laundry, offer up my aches and pains, and ask God to bless others when I thank Him for my blessings (like a clean glass of water or my bed.)

I don't know if I will have future insights on this topic. It hasn't stopped being near and dear to my heart, even if I have shifted my focus to my immediate family for the time-being. I am trying, as much as I can, to think of the poor while I am taking care of my family and being active in my community. I am trying to remember that caring for my children is caring for Christ. For now, that's all I am able to do. I hope soon God will show me a way to do more.

Trust, Confidence and Peace

I have been a bad blogger, a bad volunteer and a bad mom lately. All I can manage at this moment is to gestate this baby and try to keep my family in some semblance of order. It's not pretty around here. The house is a complete disaster, I am eating pre-made, processed stuff that I would normally go hungry rather than consume, and my kids haven't done a Saint of the Day or a Devotions in weeks. I'm no longer doing my St. Vincent de Paul work, and I've cut down on the number of times I drive into Denver to see my Catholic Charities families as well. I'm not even attending Mass every single Sunday, let alone during the week, and have totally abandoned the children's Rosary group I started in 2009. Others have been picking up my slack for me, bless them.

I'm honestly okay with this. It's not a choice for me to cut back on the things I like to do. I am physically, emotionally and mentally incapable of living my normal life right now. Things will work out and hopefully I can get back on track by summertime.

For the past seven months I've been trying (mostly without success) to get a handle on my parenting method. This is my version of nesting for a third child! We have all the equipment and I'm well practiced at attachment parenting, so the real question I'm struggling with is: What comes after toddlerhood?

There are SO MANY models, methods, books, and theories that it makes my head swim. Since I don't live on a desert island with my kids, I also have to factor in wildly divergent grandparents and, of course, my spouse. At its core, though, parenting is about what's comfortable for me and my kids, and this is where the biggest problem lies. I simply do not have any confidence at all in my parenting.

My word for the year is ABANDONMENT, and it's come to me precisely because I am struggling so desperately with parenting issues. It's not enough for me to love my children and do my best. I have to know that the method I'm using is approved by this that or the other expert, that it has been proven not to have any long-term psychological downsides, and that it creates harmony in my home. Needless to say, I'm still searching!

There's no perfect method because there are no perfect people -- parents or kids. No matter how many books I read, I'm never going to hit upon the ideal method that works every time and results in adult children who are self-sufficient, holy, and an asset to their communities. The best I can hope for is a method that allows flexibility, focuses on character rather than behavior, and preserves the inherent dignity of each family member.

I have to be okay with the idea that I'm not really in control, that I'm going to make mistakes, and that, despite all my efforts, the chances are that my kids are going to have to struggle to find their place amid the chaos that is this world. They're going to make mistakes, too, and I can't blame myself for how they turn out (even if they blame me!) just as I can't take all the credit if they end up actually being holy, productive members of society.

I think the link between trust and confidence is much closer than the link between experience and confidence. I could let myself by stymied by the magnitude of my responsibility (this person's ENTIRE FUTURE is in my hands!) or I can trust that God is in charge and that my contribution, while important, is by no means absolute.

That thought is bringing peace to this harried, hormonal mom right now. Just thought I'd share it!

Unexpected Blessings

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Picture credit.

Looking Beyond "Can't"

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

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

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

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

So, what can I do?

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

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

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

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

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

God Bless.

Photo credit.

Coming up for Air

My dad's 2-week visit ended this morning; I have one week before my mom comes to stay with us for 5 days. I'm just planning to spend this week running errands and getting back on schedule, as it's not practical to follow my Rule to the letter when I have guests.

In all, we had a nice visit. The Holy Spirit afforded me the opportunity to talk candidly with my dad about the Church's position on Christian marriage. If any fruits come from that talk, it will be all the doing of the Lord. I continue to pray for His guidance in my life and those of my parents, and for the Holy Spirit to come into every conversation I have with either of them.

Accountability Analysis
Weeks of June 28 and July 5th
Working on: Organizing house for Dad's visit and maintaining spirit of humility and love
Successes: Kindness and charity to family members, lots of quality time with kids and husband, good housekeeping
Challenges: stubbornness
Average daily HOS: 1

Week of July 12
Working on: routine and prayer times

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!

Working towards humility

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Please pray for me, and for my family.

What I Need Most

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sigh of Relief

I had an impromptu playdate with a friend from church yesterday. I don't get to see her much because she homeschools her four kids and since our parish is undergoing construction on the main church, we're stuck in the gym for Mass without a cry room. Her kids just aren't at a point where they can be quiet during Mass, so she has been going to another parish and thus, I haven't seen her.

She's wonderful. Very kind, open, faithful and understanding. I've talked with her about every matter that concerns my heart and found her at all times completely sympathetic and helpful. Our parenting styles differ, but I consider her an excellent mother and somewhat of a mentor.

Yesterday she helped me through the difficulties I've been having with my search for "peace." She comforted me with an insight I wanted to share:

God has put these feelings in my heart for a reason. The feelings are good, they are prompting me to holiness and devotion. And as they are good, they have a purpose. God is using them to work on my husband's conversion of heart. I don't need to deny, ignore or change my emotions. I need to offer them up to God in a spirit of hope.

*whew* I almost cried while we were talking. It was a beautiful gift to hear confirmation of my own inclinations from someone whose devotion and knowledge I admire so much. It's hard to find the right kind of fellowship. Even more important than listening, a good friend can both uplift you and guide you. I've been considering going to a spiritual counselor for some time, but I just don't know what I'd do with my kids. Anyone know a place that does spiritual counseling email? I'm in desperate need of someone knowledgeable to help me navigate the challenges I'm encountering with this effort. I haven't had much success going at it all alone.

I need to turn to God and arm my heart with His teachings, His comfort, His way. I'm not sure whether to stop talking about this stuff with my family or to try and discuss my point of view in the confidence that I'm sharing the truth, but right now I'm inclined to silence and independence. I certainly don't want to hide what I'm doing, but if last weekend is any indication, there's nothing to be gained from circular arguments with people who don't have any more insight than I do.

Picture credit.

Letting Go of "Peace"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I would appreciate any insights anyone has to offer.

Picture credit.

3 Things My Parents Did Right

Jen at Et Tu? has posted a blogging challenge that has been inspiring me this past week: to post three things my parents did right in raising me. I had trouble getting started, until I thought about the ways in which they've helped me onto my current path. Suddenly the answers I should write became clear.

1. They taught me to be grateful for fresh, healthy food.
My mom grew up on a farm and my father grew up poor, so between the two of them they have always appreciated wholesome food. We had two different vegetables with every meal and were taught from the start to be thankful for the food on our plates. My mom never bought us junk food. Never. I remember whining in the store for Lucky Charms and going home with Raisin Bran. Dessert was more often than not some bread with honey or a piece of fruit. Now that I'm dedicated to living simply, I find that I have a good background for preparing my family simple, healthy meals from scratch. My recipes for ricotta, mayonnaise, yogurt and applesauce come right from my mother, as does everything I know about gardening. Obviously, I still want wine and salami and creme brulee, but I am nonetheless satisfied with a nutritious, humble meal.

2. They denied me things I wanted but provided everything I needed.
My parents only became wealthy once I graduated high school and my father's business began turning a real profit. While I was growing up, we lived in a modest three-bedroom townhouse near the train tracks in one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in the Chicago area. My parents had chosen it for the schools (education is perhaps THE most important thing to my dad) and I recall how it seemed that every kid in my third grade class had a cornsilk Cabbage Patch kid while I was stuck with Suzy, the yarn-haired Cabbage Patch doll I'd received at Christmas the year before. I simply had to learn to appreciate what I had and stop yearning for new things all the time. It was an important lesson for me to learn at a young age, and I thank them wholeheartedly for instilling it in me.

3. They moved our family to Indonesia.
When my father's pharmaceutical company sent him to Indonesia in 1982, my mother, sister and I went with him. Those two and a half years were instrumental in developing my love for the poor and opening my eyes to the dichotomy between my blessings and their needs. In Indonesia we were part of the expatriate community, so my playmates were mostly British. My sister and I went to an international school, taught in English by white teachers and Indonesian teachers aides. Our mansion had a gated entrance and a pool, a chauffeur, night watchman, maid and cook, all of whom were all Indonesian. And across the street from us was a slum, where people lived in plastic shacks. The entire experience was eye-opening for me: living in a foreign country where I didn't speak the language taught me to respect the difficulties faced by immigrants, seeing the depths of poverty contrasted with comfort and luxury taught me how lucky I am and how little separates us from the fate of the poor, and experiencing the unique aspects of Indonesian culture gave me an appreciation for the many different nations that make up our world. The experience has never left me.

There are, of course, many many other things my parents did right. Even at my most cynical I could probably list a dozen or more. These, though, are the ones I appreciate the most.