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.)

Busy and Blessed

I really thought I would post more once the baby came, but now I'm so busy getting back into my routine that I hardly sit down at the computer anymore. My evenings are mostly dedicated to nursing de bebe and trying to keep the house somewhat habitable, while my mornings are much shortened now that I can go to Daily Mass again (YAY), plus the kids have morning activities two days a week. So I'm always on the go and blogging is pretty much one of the last things I have time for. Still, it's nice to be back in my life again!

Also, I have nothing very inspiring to say. I really don't know what God is trying to tell me with this anxiety. It doesn't matter how much I tell myself that there's nothing I can do by worrying about it, and that no matter what, I know God will be with me. I still am just constantly terrified that something bad is going to happen. Mostly I'm concerned about the baby; she's only 2 months old and still at risk for all sorts of random things like SIDS, meningitis, pneumococcal fever, etc.

The irony is that she is the healthiest, easiest baby ever. She sleeps well, eats well, poops well and is growing by leaps and bounds. She's smiley and content when awake and enjoys being on her own on her activity mat or in her stroller. She has sometimes put herself to sleep just by cooing, without any rocking or feeding or singing on my part. She charms everyone wherever I take her and I've had more than one person marvel that she's so perfect, she almost looks more like a doll than a live baby.

And yet I am constantly concerned about every hiccup and sniffle. Much more than is normal or necessary. I've talked with my husband about whether I need to get on medication for this, but as long as I'm able to function I don't think it's worth it. Most anti-anxiety meds enter the breastmilk, and though the studies show that the large majority of babies aren't affected by it, it seems sort of ironic that in order to alleviate my deep concerns about the baby's health, I have to do something that might compromise...the baby's health. Also, given my history, the chances are that I'll get every single last side effect possible. I'm functioning well and not having any violent thoughts of any kind. I'm just really scared all the time.

And I feel like such an idiot about it. I have been blessed to an extent most people in this world never experience. What am I concerned about? That some strife might enter my perfect, charmed little life? At the doctor's office the other day I read an article in National Geographic about Child Brides in India that broke my heart. The worst thing that could possibly happen in my life wouldn't even begin to approach being married off against my will at age 11. Even if my daughter were kidnapped like Elizabeth Smart, at least in this country I would have the police looking for her, and there would always be the hope of her return. In many countries around the world, girls and women are abused their whole lives and it's a complete non-issue.

I don't even want to ask for prayers because it's SO stupid. I personally know people who have suffered real tragedies, or who have actual mental illnesses that need medication. Better to pray for them than for me. I've been offering it up for friends who are going through infertility, and for those without medical care. In poor countries, child mortality is twenty times higher than in wealthy countries.

The unexpected positive of being so anxious is that I am truly treasuring each moment with my baby. I don't mind anything I need to do to take care of her, even diapers or waking up in the middle of the night or holding her for hours and hours because she doesn't want to be put down. If the worst does happen, I will know that I loved and rejoiced in her every minute of her life. That in itself is a beautiful gift God has given me to sustain me through this time.

Luckily, I am much too busy to dwell on it. But I thought I'd post simply because it is one of the foremost things on my mind. I'm looking for any good book recommendations on trust or managing anxiety, if anyone has them!

In the meantime, I am trusting that whatever comes, God will be with me. And I am thanking Him for all my wonderful blessings. Praise God with heart and soul and voice!

God is good

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Waiting

It's a bit ironic that this pregnancy, which has been the hardest for me, is also lasting the longest! I am past my due date now, still suffering nausea most of the day, and limited in my movements due to the Symphisis Pubic Disfunction I've had since month 5. Everyone says walking helps to bring on labor, but unfortunately I just can't do very much of that. I did get all the way down to the end of the block and back yesterday, woo hoo! I am very grateful for the chiropractic care I've received, as I am confident that without it I would be in much greater pain.

Perfect strangers have started giving me advice on how to get labor started. Most of them seem to involve making me even MORE uncomfortable, such as by taking castor oil or eating re-fried beans and the aforementioned walking and walking and walking. A few have alluded to a secret spot on my feet that, when pressed or massaged, will start labor. I'm leery of all these types of things, mostly because I believe that if the baby hasn't come yet, there's a reason. Something isn't fully developed, or it isn't the right moment for her birth. Still, it's awfully tempting to think there's something I could do when in reality, I have NO control whatsoever over the onset of labor!

I've never been pregnant quite this long and am very anxious for labor to start. Being an anxious person, I am highly susceptible to the fears that go along with pregnancy. Yet I know there are no guarantees. The fact is, sometimes things go wrong. When you are so close to new life as you are when pregnant, you are also so much more aware of death. Personally knowing people who have lost babies, either from stillbirth or through cord/placenta accidents, does not help alleviate my fears.

I don't really think that anything will go horribly wrong. One of the books I've read, Birthing From Within, says that "worry is the work of pregnancy." As new mothers, it's part of our responsibility to think about these things, and perhaps that's the reason why so many pregnant women find themselves worrying so often. The right response, of course, is to work through the scary thought, name my feelings, and make decisions on what I would say or do to cope.

Beyond that, however, I need to move forward in an attitude of trust. Whatever God ordains for my birth and my family, it will be for our spiritual good. What always frightens me is the thought that God's will is not mine, yet that's something that brings me comfort, too. After all, wouldn't I rather align my will with God's than force my own way? I know that God loves me, so whatever may come, I can rest in that assurance and know that I will not be alone.

Of course, it would be really nice if I could just have the baby and know that it's all turned out okay! The longer I wait, the more anxious I become, and the more I know I need to work on my trust and abandonment. The baby will come in her own time: in God's own time. Until then, my job is to prepare, pray and wait. Not too different than Mary's job the night before Jesus' passion and death, and thus highly appropriate for Lent. What a blessing that while I'm not physically able to fast, I can share spiritually in Mary's sufferings and anxieties.

I hope to post soon with pictures of the new baby. She has to come at some point soon...right???

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!

Politics, Part III (Final)

"Truth?" said Pilate. "What is that?"
Really, what it comes down to for me is that I find discerning the truth about politics and politicians nearly impossible.

This year it took me an hour and a half to fill in my ballot. I visited each candidate's website to see what they said about the given issues, and did additional research through newspaper articles, voting records, and assorted Voters Guides.

I had a very difficult time finding hard facts, or even clear statements about a candidate's position on the issues. Although most devoted a large portion of their websites to "issues," the actual content didn't provide me a very clear picture. Every outside source I tried was unmistakably biased, whether it was newspaper articles, blogs, or watchdog groups.

Add to all this the negativity and propaganda that characterize a political conversation, and the truth gets even more obscured. I haven't been able to find a source of political discourse that I can trust. As I've already said in Parts I and II, I don't think voting for any candidate will make a real difference in the issues that matter most. In addition, I worry that whoever wins the election will harm vulnerable populations with faulty policies and misguided laws. Intelligent people argue both sides, and yet I can't fully agree with anyone.

I feel like I am wandering in a mire, trying to find my way out, and every now and then I come across a path covered in signs, but none of the signs make sense, and none of them seem to lead out. So I keep wandering. Even if I pick a path, I'm not happy or confident while I'm on it, so I'm prone to strike out and search for another one.

But the thing is, there is no perfect path. This is politics, after all: messy, complicated, full of gray areas and compromise. And if I don't pick any path, then I'm just wandering aimlessly.

So what's most important when choosing how to vote? To me, the answer has to be "What God wants." Luckily, He's left us a guide. It's called the Church. And in the last few years, the Church has made her position ever clearer. More than one bishop has come forth to say, in no uncertain terms, that a Catholic may not vote for a pro-choice candidate when there is a pro-life candidate on the ballot. With all my indecision and frustration, this at least is a non-negotiable guidepost to help me choose wisely.

If I cannot feel peace in voting for a particular candidate, can I at least feel peace in bending my will to the gentle nudge of my shepherd's staff? We are like sheep, unruly, unable to fully understand. Yet if we can respond to the voice of one sent to guide us, we might yet move in the direction appointed by our Master.

I admire and deeply respect my shepherd, Archbishop Chaput. I have read his book, "Render Unto Caesar" and found it both inspiring and enlightening as to the role of the faithful in public life. In his words, then:

"So can a Catholic in good conscience vote for a pro-choice candidate? The answer is: I can't, and I won't. But I do know some serious Catholics -- people whom I admire -- who may. I think their reasoning is mistaken, but at least they sincerely struggle with the abortion issue, and it causes them real pain."

Of all the voices shouting opinions in our political climate, I have to choose one that I trust. I can't discern the truth on my own. Who better to trust than the shepherd appointed over my particular flock? In all honesty, there's no other voice I trust more.

Not even my own.

Picture credit.

Unexpected Blessings

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Picture credit.

Embracing the Good Samaritan

While waiting for my son's catechism class to end the other day, I picked up the latest copy of Catholic Update, and read the article on the works of mercy. It had a perspective on the parable of the Good Samaritan that really struck me. Apparently this is a well-known analysis: that the parable is not about how we are all called to help others, but rather is meant to help us recognize the mercy Christ has shown us. It is a parable of God's salvation -- Jesus is the neighbor, the Good Samaritan. He comes to us, who are hurt and broken, and provides us with everything we need. He heals our wounds, takes us to a resting place, pays our debt, and promises to return for us.

Naturally, we are called to help others. Scripture is clear in many other passages, most notably last Sunday's reading from John 21 which I have at the bottom of this webpage. "Feed my lambs, tend my sheep," says Jesus, calling His disciples to provide spiritually and materially for all His children. But what strikes me is the focus of the most famous passage of Scripture. Even non-believers are aware of the parable of the Good Samaritan. In some states there are Good Samaritan laws that hold bystanders accountable for failing to render aid.

Yet I think most of us fail to understand it properly. Jesus is not telling us what we should do. He is showing us what God has done. The parable of the Good Samaritan is not a set of instructions. It's a song of praise for God's goodness.

It echoes what I've been feeling these past few months. There has been a great deal of upheaval in my life, starting with the ectopic pregnancy and progressing right through discerning school options for next year, determining the relationship I will have with certain family members, and making decisions on future children. All the questions I've had about what God wants me to do, I have taken to Him in Adoration, and all I keep hearing in my heart is "Don't worry," and "This is My work."

It IS His work. Nothing I do is my own doing. Nothing I achieve is the product of my labors. All the effort and anxiety I put into trying to do the Lord's will doesn't draw me nearer to Him. It just increases my worry.

I took such comfort from that article, almost as though God was saying to me, "Calm down and leave things in My hands." My job is not to go out there and save all the poor and downtrodden; it's simply to embrace God's salvation and allow it to work within me. When I find opportunities to perform the corporal and spiritual works of mercy, I should respond with the same spirit and outpouring of love Christ has shown me.

That's it. That's the sum of my job on this earth. No need to control things and work myself into a lather about timing and persuading those around me to join in my efforts. Just quiet love and a joyful spirit of giving.

As Paul has said:

I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength.

-- Phillipians 4: 11-13

Content in every situation, and do all through Him who gives me strength. The peace and happiness I've felt from letting this truth fill my heart has enabled me to takes steps I've never been able to before, and which I plan to post about in the future. It has also, I hope, made me a better wife and mother, which is my primary vocation and deepest desire of my heart.

Picture credit.

Perspective

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More Quick Takes at Conversion Diary!

Perfection

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Trust and Obedience

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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At least the answer is clear...

The door has been shut on the adoption issue. Worried about cost and the untrustworthiness of international governments, I had looked into fost-adopt domestically. It wasn't ideal for me, particularly the long vetting process and invasive government check-ups, but I was willing to go through it.

However, my husband has made it clear that there is no circumstance under which he'd be willing to adopt a child.

So it appears that it is not God's will for us to help children in this way. As always, it's so difficult to adjust my thinking and my expectations. In my mind I keep thinking, "But I WANT this. Why can't I have it?"

Obviously, that's not the right attitude.

In recent news, a friend of mine has just broken off her engagement with her boyfriend of four years because she wants to "be with other people." As much as I think she's making a terrible mistake (and compounding it with a bunch of sins) I also kind of envy her. There's something so appealing in the idea that if you're not perfectly happy in any given situation, you just change the situation until you get what you want.

In that scenario, though, there's no growth. There's no gaining in humility from letting go of your way in favor of another's. There's no strengthening of will from sticking with something even when it's unpleasant.

I know that to my friend, my bowing to God on this issue is perceived as giving up and letting my husband win. It may feel like that in my more petulant moods, but in my heart I know better.

If God really wanted this for us, He would not have it negatively impact my primary vocation as a wife and mother. In this, at least, I can feel peace. It is not the right time. It may never be the right time. Even though it is a good and right thing I wish to do, God does not wish me to do it.

St. Frances of Rome can hear me on this one. She wanted to be a nun but her family promised her in marriage to a nobleman instead. Crying and begging God to stop the marriage, she was asked by her confessor, "Are you crying because you want to do God's will or because you want God to do yours?"

Thy will be done, Lord. Thine alone.

Seeing Things Clearly

I had LASIK eye surgery a couple weeks ago. My mother gifted it to me on my 30th birthday, but since I was a brand new mother (my youngest was only a week old at that time!) I wanted to wait until I didn't have a tiny being completely dependent upon me for sustenance before I went through the surgery. Two years went by, and my mom finally got on my case to get the surgery done, even offering to come stay with me for a week and help me out as I convalesced. (Not that it takes a week, but hey, if she's making the trip she may as well stick around and spend some quality time with the kids.)
Before I scheduled the surgery, I read up on the procedure and the center where I was having it done. I felt very confident in my doctor and his skills (he's probably the best LASIK surgeon in Colorado and has even developed a laser of his own design.) Everyone I spoke with was both kind and knowledgeable, allaying any concerns I had about the procedure itself or my suitability for it.

That didn't stop me from having nightmares as the surgery loomed, or lying awake with vague fears of losing my sight all together and never seeing my daughter in her prom dress, developing an infection that might cause me to lose an eye, or some other equally rare and unlikely disaster.

I turned to my husband for support one night, as we were getting ready for bed, asking him how he felt about my upcoming surgery. He admitted that he was nervous about the procedure and had some trepidation about how it would all turn out. I was like...ummmm...are you not aware you are supposed to be a rock upon which I can build a fortress of emotional security? You are not allowed to feel nervousness about this!

Which brought me to the realization I should have had from the start: I need to rely on God alone. My husband, amazing man though he is, cannot save me from fears or suffering. Only God can turn my tears into dancing.

That night I had a dream where I died. It's the way of dreams that you don't know at the time that things aren't real. Everything feels real, feels as though it's truly happening. When my group discovered that the Enterprise wasn't going to rescue us and the planet we were on was about to explode, I truly in that moment felt the overpowering panic that I would have in any situation where there was no escape. (Yes, yes, I know. Star Trek dreams belie a deep and abiding nerdiness that can't be disguised. Anyway.) I clearly remember standing there, watching the sky-high ball of flame rushing toward me and knowing it was beyond impossible to survive what was coming. So I didn't bother with fear. I just accepted it and turned my thoughts to Jesus. The flames rushed in and bright light blinded me. I reached out my arms, smiling, peace enfolding me, and looked for my Savior.

I opened my eyes to darkness and crushing disappointment. I wasn't dead, after all. I was just dreaming.

Turns out, the surgery wasn't easy for me at all. I prayed the Hail Mary over and over to get through it, and spent three times as long in recovery as everyone else that day. But it all turned out well: my vision is 20/18 and my eyes are healing nicely. I didn't even really think about the dream while I was on the table or in recovery, but I've put the two together since then. What I struggle with most in this life is trust. Trust in God, in others, in myself, too. The dream was showing me that whenever I am faced with a problem, while the outcome may not be what I wanted, if I turn to God I will find happiness in it.

I've been pondering how this relates to my attempts to discern God's will for my life. In a profound way, it brings me comfort. The details of my future aren't important. What's important is that I turn to God and make Him the center of anything I do. Most importantly, though, it reminds me that things are not all up to me. I didn't want to be blind any more than I wanted to be on an exploding planet, but either way, it's God alone in whom I should place my trust. No one else has the power to save me.

When I think about the dream now, I don't feel any of the lingering fear a nightmare usually evokes. What I most remember is the joy and expectation I felt peering through the white light trying to see God. John writes of heaven:

Nothing accursed will be found there anymore. The throne of God and of the Lamb will be in it, and his servants will worship him.

They will look upon his face, and his name will be on their foreheads.

Night will be no more, nor will they need light from lamp or sun, for the Lord God shall give them light, and they shall reign forever and ever. --Revelation 22:3-5

Amen, Lord Jesus!

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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.

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.

Getting Ahead of the Game

I received an insight during my Rosary meditation a few days ago that I thought I would share. On the last of the Joyful Mysteries, it occurred to me what Jesus was doing teaching the elders in the Temple at age 12. He was proclaiming the kingdom -- fulfilling His mission as He had been sent here to do.

But it wasn't the right time. At age 13, a Jewish boy reached the age of maturity and took on the responsibilities of an adult member of the community. But it was not until age 30 that a Levite became an active member of the Temple roster. In other words, a man became a priest at age 30. (There's double symbolism in the fact that Jesus wasn't of the tribe of Levi, though his cousin John the Baptist was, but instead of the tribe of Judah who were traditionally the kings and leaders of the Hebrews. So Jesus was both Priest and King, God and Sacrifice.) The Levites were teachers and explained the Torah when it was publicly read. Jesus began his ministry at an age when He would be respected. He was fully God from the start of His life, and knew the mysteries of the universe as well as His future. He must have been eager to do God's will, to get out there and preach to the lost flock of Israel.

But it wasn't the right time. God sent His parents, especially His mother, Mary, to
remind Him that He was still a child under their direction. When they took Him from the Temple, "Then he went down to Nazareth with them and was obedient to them." (Luke 2:51)

He waited for the right time. That's what I need to do, too. I can't rush things because I want them now, even if I want them for the "right" reasons. All things happen in their proper time. I must trust that God knows best and follow Him. I must take direction from the people in my life whom God has gifted me as guides and partners.

I'm hearing very clearly from several sides: Not now. I'm hearing clearly: Trust Me.

I want to cry "Then when?" but that's not the right response. My response must be to return home (to God) and be obedient. Strengthen me, oh Lord, and guide me.

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