Happy Thanksgiving!

Psalm 150
1 Praise the LORD. [a]
Praise God in his sanctuary;
praise him in his mighty heavens.
2 Praise him for his acts of power;
praise him for his surpassing greatness.
3 Praise him with the sounding of the trumpet,
praise him with the harp and lyre,
4 praise him with tambourine and dancing,
praise him with the strings and flute,
5 praise him with the clash of cymbals,
praise him with resounding cymbals.
6 Let everything that has breath praise the LORD.
Praise the LORD.


On this Thanksgiving Day, I pause to remember just a few of the many, many blessings in my life:

• DH, BigBro, Princess, LilBro
• Our extended families
• The gift of my nearly 85 year old mother-in-law and her 89 year old companion
• Our family members who have gone on before us, and who we remember with fond hearts every time we are together
• A warm house, my incredibly comfy bed (with clean sheets), more than enough food to eat, a little money in the bank, lots and lots of hand-me-down clothes for the kids, our two kitties, homeschooling, watching the kids growing and changing, listening to "Ode to Joy" on the recorder after eating more turkey and mashed potatoes than I should have eaten, hugs, phone calls from distant family, gas prices dropping lower than they've been for all of BigBro's life, good friends, time alone with DH, our "kid swap" weekends (on both ends), mass, really good homilies, time spent in prayer, the Perpetual Adoration Chapel right down the street, borrowing a friend's steam cleaner and the joy of seeing my cleaner carpets and furniture,
• And knowing that this list could go on and on and on...

Thank you, sweet Lord.

Advent: Anticipation or Penance?

A friend of mine emailed me this morning, not very happy with the description of the penitential nature of Advent in an email I had sent her. She was taught (as I was) that Advent was a time of anticipating and waiting, not of penance. She's not so sure that she likes turning this happy season into a more dour one. Here are some of my thoughts in response to her:

Advent is not a dour, "I'm so sinful" penitential season like Lent is. It is a more joyful, penitential season. (Sounds oxymoronic, I know). But, for me, Advent is more of a fasting to get ready for the feast.

Last year was the first year I decided to seriously consider this penitential aspect of Advent. I decided to give up chocolate for Advent and see how that affected me, and my celebration of the season. There were three things that I noticed. First, I didn't gain my usual holiday 5 pounds. Second, it was a lot easier to give something up for the 3 1/2 weeks of Advent than the 6 weeks of Lent. And, third, I found that by giving something up, Jesus was brought to mind more often. Every time I reached for a cookie or piece of candy, I was reminded of my fast, and it was an opportunity to remember that Advent is a time to prepare to greet our Savior, not a time to shop until I drop.

And that's really what it's about. Preparing for our Savior's arrival. For me, that included (and will include this year) some penitential practice, because I am so far from where I should be to greet the Lord. But this year, I am focusing more on growing spiritually rather than "punishing" myself for my "sinfulness." So, I am also reading Matthew this Advent, one chapter a day, and trying to focus on Jesus' teachings.

Last year, our family started doing a short (about 5 min) prayer service with the Advent wreath every night. We'll do that again this year, and we are adding in a short Jesse Tree meditation to that. But, for the kids, I want this season to be one of joy, anticipation, and family traditions. Some of those traditions are secular, and some are religious... and I think that balance is what I am going for. I think it's ok to have Santa alongside St Nick, Jesus alongside Rudolph. I love the 1960s claymation Christmas shows, and we will watch all of them. We will decorate the house this coming weekend. We will start listening to Christmas music on Friday or Saturday, and listen to practically nothing else until January.

For me, Christmas is about family. It started with a family... the humblest of all... and it continues with families, year after year, gathering together to remember that first night, that tiny family, in that cold stable in Bethlehem, and what it means for all of us throughout time and space.

Catholic Carnival #200

Go check out the latest edition of the Catholic Carnival. Sarah at Snoring Scholar is hosting again, and she's done an amazing job rounding up this week's posts... and giving us a lesson in sheep-shearing all at the same time.

I'm off to get a cup of tea, and spend some time in the Catholic Blog-o-Sphere. Care to join me?

Preparing for the Preparation

Advent is sneaking up on me. A month ago, I started thinking about it, and planning for it. Then I got busy, and it got away from me again. It starts in just 6 days. (Actually, I started this post last week, and just had to update the "9" with a "6." Even posting about Advent is getting away from me).

Last year, we celebrated with a short prayer service around the Advent wreath every night. This year, we will continue the prayer service, but are adding the Jesse Tree to our evening activities. Using Karen's suggestion, I bought a small tree at the dollar store this morning, on which to hang our colored, paper disks. I loved looking at all of the handmade, salt dough and felt ornaments on others' Jesse Trees last year. I wanted to spend time this November making ornaments with my kids, but it didn't happen. Oh, well. One thing at a time. Next year, perhaps we can upgrade the ornaments. Or not.

One tradition we started last year was our prayer chain. When BigBro was a toddler, I made him a paper chain countdown for Christmas. He loved the visual of seeing Christmas get closer every day. Every year after that, I made a chain for each child. Last year, we added one small change. For each paper slip, each child named one person (or group of people) they wanted to pray for. I wrote it down, and slipped the paper in loops. Every night, as we gathered around the Advent wreath for our prayer service, each child took one loop off their chain, and we prayed especially for those people and their intentions.

But Advent is not just for the kids. It is also a time for me to explore some deeper spiritual practices. Last year, I experimented with daily mass on a regular basis. It didn't take right away, but it made an impression, and by summer, I was getting daily mass more and more often. Now, daily mass is a staple in my life.

This year, I am planning a few small changes for Advent, and I am anticipating that they will help me to keep my focus on Jesus Christ throughout this season. The first is one I am so very proud to share: I have nearly completed all of my Christmas shopping. Oh, there are still a few little, last minute things I need to do. But the bulk of it is done, helped in large part by our scaling back this year, making more gifts (which is not done yet), and changing our focus/expectations.

The second change is that I plan to study and meditate on the Gospel According to Matthew this season. I've been feeling very called to Matthew lately, and the plan is to take it one chapter a day. I've fallen away from my time with the Scriptures in recent months, and I am looking forward to a more focused time with God's Word.

And finally, I am planning to re-institute my small penitential practice. This year, I've decided to forego all beverages other than water. Trading my diet cherry Pepsi or iced tea for water is a small way for me to keep Jesus in my mind and my heart as I go throughout the ordinariness of my days.

But, mostly, I am just looking forward to Advent. I love this time of year. I love bringing out my Christmas decorations, seeing the ornaments from my childhood and DH's childhood hanging alongside the ones our children have made. I love sharing the holiday traditions I knew growing up with my children. I love making new traditions with my family. And I love sharing the joys of our faith with them... helping them to know and love Jesus as deeply as I do.

Serving Where I Am

A few weeks ago, while I was on my personal retreat, I prayed a lot for help in knowing how to take the peace I had found at the Shrine back into my everyday life. The last thing I did before heading home was attend mass in the Shrine chapel. The priest gave a homily that day about being a servant... that each of us is called to serve others, and that we need to serve with a happy and humble heart. He cautioned us not to look for rewards for our service in this life; our rewards await us in the eternal life.

I took a few deep breaths in the quiet between the end of the homily and the beginning of the Prayers of the Faithful. I knew, in my heart, that this was the answer I had been seeking. I've tried my best to take this "happy, humble servant" attitude home with me, and to put it into practice in my everyday roles as wife, mother, friend, daughter, parishioner.

I've watched it work. It's really quite amazing. On the days (or, at least, in the moments) when I remember that I am, first and foremost, a servant of God, things go better. I get less frustrated. I can handle the delays, surprises, and accidents better. And on the days (or in the moments) when I forget that, when I put myself and my desires first, I am more frustrated, more impatient, less loving, less kind.

Yesterday morning, I woke, after not sleeping well all night, in a state of panic. There is so much to do... and Thanksgiving is in just a few days. We have guests arriving on Wednesday. We are hosting 15 for dinner on Thursday. The house is a wreck. Groceries need to be bought (especially the turkey, which needs days to defrost). Laundry needs to be done. (Doesn't it always!) I panicked, and started to freak out in DH's direction. He was calm, gentle, and reminded me that I was not in this alone. He helped me take a deep breath, make out a list of what needed to be done, and then showed me how we would split the duties to get it all done.

This morning, I again woke in a panic. We had accomplished a good amount yesterday, but not as much as I'd hoped, and today was jam-packed as well. The stress was rising. Again, good and wise DH came to the rescue with some helpful suggestions. I headed out to 6:30 mass, feeling the stress tight in my chest. I knelt in the church, trying to slow my breathing, and prayed for peace in my heart. I prayed for the grace to know that all will get done, and to not be so impatient and crabby in the doing of it.

A short time later, Father stepped down into the center aisle to deliver his homily. He began talking about the Vietnamese martyrs we honor today, and talked about how each of us is called to be a "white martyr"... to serve with the love of Christ in our given vocations. He looked right at me, nodded, and pointed out that if we are wives and mothers, we are called to serve our families with joy and humility. That is all that Christ asks of us.

And, as I felt peace once again enter my heart, I was reminded, again, why daily mass is so very necessary for me.

We Need More Movies Like This!

This weekend was our weekend off. DH and I had 26 glorious, child-free hours to spend together. Once a month, we are trading our 3 kids with another family with 3 kids. Each month, one couple gets 26 hours to spend on their marriage. It is a trade that works for both our families, and is so worth the work of managing 6 kids every other month.

We decided to go see "Fireproof," which had gotten rave reviews from another friend. I cannot recommend this movie more highly. It is an unabashedly Christian, intensely pro-marriage movie. We need more movies like this one. When it was over, we stood in the lobby talking with two other couples, and all 6 of us kept repeating that one phrase: We need more movies like this one.

"Fireproof" is the story of Caleb, a firefighter, whose marriage of 7 years is headed for divorce. He and his wife communicate only in angry barbs and snide comments. She asks him for a divorce and he is ready to agree, but his father asks him to try a 40 day "love dare" to save his marriage. Caleb doesn't want to agree, but his father presses him, and he does so only out of respect for him.

This "love dare" is not the magic bullet Caleb was thinking it would be, and his marriage continues to fall apart. About halfway through, his dad comes to visit, and as they walk, they talk about faith. Caleb has little, at this point. He is frustrated and angry with his wife, and he cries out: "How am I supposed to love someone who spits in my face, and keeps pushing me away?" Dad says, "That's a good question, son." and the camera pans up to a shot of a cross.

This is Caleb's conversion moment. I can relate so well. Having walked away from God so many years ago, only really back in His arms less than two years, I was deeply moved by this scene. And I was challenged: this is what it means to love another... not from a selfish need for something in return, but to love as Christ loved... wholly, incarnationally, selflessly, unto death.

This movie really spoke to DH and me. We've been married for 8 years. Long enough that we've gone through some ups and downs. We've had times when our desire for each other has waned, and times when the passion has flared. We've gotten too caught up in the grind and lost touch with each other. We've seen the tides of marriage, and we know the work and the commitment involved in this covenant. Just last month, we were in a rough patch. DH was enamored with the political circus, and I was always running, running, running, busy with our fall schedule. We stopped making time together a priority, and ended up both feeling estranged from each other. Marriage is a commitment. It requires time, effort, energy, and selflessness.

On our way home from the movie, we were talking about the scenes that touched us, the parts we could relate to. DH made a comment about our marriage being a Sacrament, being specifically blessed by God. At that moment, I felt this intense desire to pray with my husband. I suggested that we stop off at the Perpetual Adoration Chapel before going home. We did. It was the first time we've gone there together. As I knelt before the Blessed Sacrament, I had only one prayer in my heart: "Thank you."

We sat up talking in front of the fire for a long while that evening. And the next day, as we spent our day together, reconnecting and falling deeper in love once again, we kept bringing up scenes and words from the movie. We agreed to buy the DVD as soon as it comes out, and to pick a date twice a year to watch the movie together... no matter what.

Every married couple needs to see this movie. It is Christian. There are no attempts made to hide it. This movie states several times that "marriage is meant to be forever" and that "God makes marriages." I really loved that it was completely non-denominational. Caleb did not ever "join" a church or commit to any particular branch of Christianity. That wasn't the focus of this movie. But his faith and his developing relationship with Jesus Christ did impact his marriage, his person. The deeper he grew in his faith, the more committed he grew in his marriage. In the scene where he apologizes to his wife and asks for her forgiveness, DH and I both went through more than a few tissues.

The movie has a website, and on the website, there are resources specifically for Catholics. I have not yet had much time to explore these, but I plan to. And I plan to discuss this movie with my Pastor, and see where and how we can make this available to the couples in my parish.

I said it before. We need more movies like this one. We need more movies that are adamantly pro-marriage, pro-family. We need movies that build us up and bring us together. Enough with the crap that tears us apart and pits us against each other. We need more movies like this one.

It's the Little Things

Sometimes it doesn't take much. Today, I filled the tank in my minivan for $1.57 a gallon!!!!! I filled the entire tank for $27.92... less than $28 to fill the entire tank.

I had stopped filling the tank about 3 years ago, prefering instead to just throw first $25, then $30, then $35 in at a time. Over the summer, when gas prices were hovering around $4 a gallon, I started filling the tank completely when DH got paid (twice a month) and then rationing that gas until the next payday. The most I ever paid to fill the tank this past summer was $76.88, and that was when the tank was only about 3/4 empty.

I practically did a little happy dance right there at the gas station today!

Words

I've been thinking a lot about words these past few days. On Saturday, I said some really important, and really difficult words: "I'm sorry. Please forgive me." And I've seen that those words left me feeling naked, and also have begun some transformative work in me.

Yesterday morning, my friend and I were talking in the parking lot after mass. I told her that I was pleased to hear that my words had touched several people on the retreat last week, but that even more important, they had changed me. I needed to take responsibility for myself, and to stand up and make a public proclamation of my intent to change. Speaking these words aloud has allowed me to take an important step in the right direction.

This morning, when I was taking a 3 Minute Retreat (see link in sidebar), I came across this sentence:

"The great challenge is that, in order for words to have any real
transformative power, they not only need to be spoken, but need to be heard and
acted upon as well."

I so completely agree. This is where I am right now. My words were spoken. They were heard. I know they were heard by the reaction I got at the time... and by the many, many, warm and wonderful bits of feedback I've gotten throughout these past few days.

But I also need to act upon the words. I need to change my attitudes and my actions. I need to approach others with kindness, tolerance and acceptance; I need to replace my judgment with prayer... prayer for other, prayer for self. And I need to begin with me. I need to judge myself less harshly, and pray for myself more. I need to pray for the courage to live out the words I spoke last weekend, and for the grace to admit it when I fail. I need to treat myself gently, so that I can treat others gently.

I need to release not just the rock I throw at others... but the rock I throw at myself as well.

Looking for Applause

I have been really struggling with my need for approval and recognition. As I've been processing through my talk at the retreat this past weekend, I keep getting stuck on my need to be told that my words were powerful, that my story touched someone, that my presence on the weekend was valuable and even, perhaps, necessary.

Yesterday, I was talking with a trusted friend. I shared some of the positive feedback I had gotten with her, and she congratulated me on doing a good job. But I went a step further with her. I trusted her with that place in my heart where my discontent is living. I told her the raw, ugly truth: that while everything I did and said in my talk was sincere and true, and while I did want to touch people and (hopefully) change hearts, I was also motivated -- on one level -- by the desire to give a stronger, more powerful, more life-changing witness than one other woman on the retreat. Yes, she and I are quietly competitive with each other. But, deep inside me, I wanted to best her... to leave a more lasting impact than she did.

I was not at all like this on the other retreats; I was definitely not competitive with any of the other speakers on this weekend. It is just this particular woman, who annoys me in so many little ways, and always seems to find some way of diminishing or belittling me (most likely subconsciously, I don't believe she sets out to do that to me). And, truth be told, I think what I am most looking for is her approval. I didn't get it last weekend. When everyone else used words like "powerful, brave, moving" to describe my talk, she said this, "That was an interesting way to approach Christian Community. I've heard lots of witnesses on this topic, and never heard one like that." Even the little note she dropped into my witness response bag didn't reward me. "I can see what you mean that you have grown a lot through these retreats. God loves you."

So, it really bothers me that I need her approval, that I so crave the applause and recognition from someone I don't even like. Although, I do admire her a lot. She has gumption and self-confidence and is incredibly centered. All things I would like to see more of in myself.

My wise and trusted friend, also a homeschooling mom, pointed out that maybe my need for this recognition has its roots not just in my incredibly flawed inner person, but also in my vocation. As homeschooling, stay-at-home moms, we get very little recognition. There are so few opportunities for us to get feedback, both positive and negative. In our state, we don't have to provide test results or go through portfolio approval processes. There is no parent-teacher conference or school board auditor telling me that I am doing a good job teaching my child. I have no boss to give me an annual performance appraisal. Even just trying to keep the house reasonably straightened up with three small children around 24-7 is nearly impossible. I can't earn my applause through Good Housekeeping or Better Homes and Gardens.

Which isn't to say that I don't know that I am doing a good job. I can see the progress my children are making. They are becoming loving, caring, responsible people. BigBro is excelling at his academics. Princess is reading short CVC and CVCC words now. Even LilBro knows his letters and loves to count.

But I think I still need to hear it sometimes. I need to hear that I am valuable, and maybe in this instance, that my value is beyond that which I do for my family... that I have some value in my community, my parish. And I did get that this weekend; just not from the person I most needed to hear it. I wish I didn't need her approval... I think that most of my competitiveness with her comes from feeling that I am just not "good enough" or "strong enough" or "talented enough."

Heavenly Father, please help me to let go. Help me to concern myself with your opinion, and only your opinion. Help me to see myself as you see me, and to let that be my only gauge. Help me let go of my need for applause.

Where Does the Time Go?

LilBro is looking so much bigger to me lately. I keep looking at this little boy... a baby no longer, and wondering how it is that he is nearly 3 years old already.

I remember holding my tiny little guy in my arms. He and I had a wonderful start together... as an experienced mom, I knew enough to take full advantage of my 48 hours in the hospital post-birth. I knew that coming home to a toddler and preschooler meant quiet time with my baby would just not happen. And so, we cuddled, nursed, and slept nestled together in the hospital for those first few days.

And he is still my baby. He is much younger than the other two were at his age. I know that some of it is circumstance. BigBro had to be more mature; he was forced to walk rather than be carried by the arrival of Princess. Even Princess had to give up most of the babying with LilBro's arrival. So some of it is birth order. And some is me. I love cuddling him. I love letting him be two years old... with all of the joy, wonder and excitement, as well as all of the anger, frustrations and temper tantrums.

This morning, I saw both sides of my little guy. He got really upset when his turn playing on the PBSKids website was done, and he quickly spiraled into a tantrum. I scooped him up and held him close, as I carried him to his room to calm down. By the time we got to the top of the stairs, he was taking slow, deep breaths. I complimented him on his hard work to calm himself down. Then I gently placed him on his bed, handed him a few books, and told him that when BigBro and Princess get upset, they go lay on their beds and read until they are calm. When Mom gets upset, she does the same thing. I told him I thought he was big enough now to do the same thing. Did he agree? He didn't look at me or answer me, but he did open his book and start "reading." I gave him a kiss and told him I'd be happy to see him downstairs again when he is calm. About 10 minutes later, he interrupted BigBro's math lesson with a smile, a hug, and a jump up and down telling me he was calm and quiet now. (Ok, so not exactly quiet in demeanor, but at least emotionally). Wow... my little guy is growing up.

A few hours later, he came over and climbed in my lap. "Mommy, I falled down and hurt my leg. You need to cuddle me now." And I did. He lay there, closed his eyes, and I could see the peace and comfort he found in my arms. I prayed that he will always be able to come to me for peace and comfort, even as I know that these days will fade away, and a time will come when he won't come up to me and say "You need to cuddle me now." But for now, he is still my sweet baby, and I am going to hold tight to every moment I get.

More on my Talk

So, I am still working through all of this. One of the things that the retreat director did on this retreat (which I did not know about) was institute a "witness response bag." Each talk title had a small bag set up on a table. Anyone who wanted could slip a note (signed or anonymous) in there to express their thoughts or feelings on the talk.

One of the team members dropped my bag off this afternoon... actually while I was just finishing up this post. I had about a dozen notes in my bag.

I posted the previous message, and then sat down to read through the notes, not really knowing what to expect. I mentioned that my talk was more open and honest than any I have ever done. I completely exposed myself... my faults, my weaknesses, my sins. I stood in front of this group of women (only a few of whom I actually knew well), and talked about times I have judged, gossipped, and been mean-spirited to people in our parish, to women in that room. I apologized for all of it. And I meant every word. It was incredibly difficult and deeply humbling. It was by no means the easy way out. But I did it not just for me, but because I feel very strongly that my parish community needs a bit of shaking up... we haven't been a very "christian" community lately, and I want to change that in the only way I can... by changing myself and hoping that my example inspires others to do the same.

I was feeling very exposed yesterday afternoon. I think I would have felt less exposed if I had actually taken all of my clothes off. Several retreatants, and many of the women on the team, came up to me and told me my talk was really powerful. But it did little to ease how I naked I felt. Last night, I sat on the couch with DH and tried to put my feelings into words, but mostly they came out as tears instead.

I have never given a talk like that before. I don't know if I could ever do it again. On the one hand, I am really proud of myself. Sounds weird... I am proud of humbling myself so well, but I am. I knew it was going to be hard, but I felt it was critical that I give this talk. Several times in the past week, I'd thought of rewriting the talk into a more traditional, "how my community shaped me" talk rather than the "what is a christian community, and how can I make my community more christian" version that I gave. But I never let myself do the rewrite. I believed that this version was too important, that this time in our parish was too critical for me to take the safe and easy route.

So it was with curiousity and a bit of trepidation that I sat down with my bag of notes.

I am so deeply grateful to the retreat director for implementing this idea. These notes were the feedback I was most needing. I know that many women said affirming things to me yesterday, but as I expressed in my other post, I was struggling to believe that it was little more than ego stroking. Here, these anonymous notes, these helped me to see the power of my talk. Several women told me the words I said were the exact words they needed to hear. One woman said she was hoping my example would help her to put down her stone too (I had quoted Jn 8:7 "Let the one who is without sin throw the first stone at her" and had pulled a stone from my pocket and promised to retire it, with their help). Another woman told me that my talk had gotten her into confession last night. Note after note, women expressed the same thoughts: this judging that we do of each other, we all do it. And we need to stop.

So tonight, I am praying for the courage I need to cooperate with God's Grace... to make good on the promises I made to my parish community yesterday. And I am praying that the women who took my words into their hearts will do the same. If each of us just does a little bit, I believe we can change the tone and the heart of our community.

Ego vs. the Holy Spirit

I can't seem to figure this one out. It is sticking in my head this week. I've asked any number of people: DH, friends, Pastor, God, my mother. How do you tell the difference between your ego and promptings from the Holy Spirit?
Yesterday, a lot of what was going on inside me came out. I gave a talk at my parish's 6th Women's Christ Renews His Parish (CRHP) retreat. It was my third retreat in a row giving a talk, and it's something that I enjoy a lot. I grow a great deal in the process of meditating and praying about a topic, and then writing and editing my talk. And I love giving the talks. It always begins with the entire room standing and singing a blessing song over the speaker. I love that feeling; it is deeply Spirit-filled.

Anyway, as awkward and shy as I can be at any given, off-the-cuff moment, I am totally different when giving the talks. I am calm. I am confident. I usually have the talk mostly memorized, so I make frequent eye contact, and often add in extemporaneous comments to spark some humor and laughter. I try to entertain, not just share my story.

I have a talent for this. I don't say that lightly, and not in a bragging way. I mean it matter-of-factly... this is an area in which I have a talent. And I guess others have noticed, since I was invited to fill empty slots at the past two retreats. The team from this weekend's talk had to do a bit of arm-twisting to get me to agree.

But when I was driving home last night, I started thinking more about how good it feels to get the affirmations from the women after my talks. How good it feels to hear that my words touched someone. How good it feels to see the crowd reacting with laughter and tears at the appropriate moments. And I started to wonder if I was doing this for the right reasons. Am I agreeing to talk at these retreats because I really have something important to share... some information that can lead others closer to Christ? Or am I speaking because I like the affirmation? Because I like the ego boost?

Or is it a little of both?

And if it is a little of both... is that ok?

This morning, Pastor gave a homily about the servant who hid the one talent, trying to be practical and "safe." He told us that he understands this desire for security, especially in this current economic crisis. But Jesus told this parable to exhort us against choosing security over risk. Pastor said that Jesus wants us to use our talents, to take risks, to be bold, to speak truthfully and honestly and openly.

I nodded a lot during his homily. I kept thinking back to the previous afternoon. I was quite bold, very truthful, and more honest than I had ever been in a public speech before. OK. That was God's work.

But I will admit: there was an element of "showing off." One of the women on the retreat had never heard me speak before, and she and I are competitive with each other. She is also a writer, and she seems to make a point of drawing attention to her writing successes while diminishing any positive feedback I might get with an "oh, yeah, I've been told that, too. It's very satisfying, isn't it?" So, I admit, I was aiming to knock this one out of the park.

Which brings me back to the ego question; clearly my ego played some role in my talk yesterday. Does that even matter? Is it possible to completely separate my ego from my faith story? The women on the retreat did not know about this underlying, unspoken competition. If one of them was touched by my words and grows deeper in relationship with Christ as a result of meditating on them, does that mitigate the egotism involved in creating and giving the talk? Or is the power of my talk lessened by the competition and ego that underlay it all?

How can you tell the difference between ego and the Holy Spirit?

Too Funny...

We Irish need to stick together:

Hmmmm.....

Going Home Again

So I've been gone for a few days now. It has been exactly what I needed. I have had plenty of time to pray, to sleep, to read, and to just be. On Sunday afternoon, I was so grateful that it wasn't yet time to go home. I wasn't ready. I think that was the big problem with the retreat back in September... it was too short and too structured. I didn't have the time I needed to uncover myself from the layers and layers of "real life" that gets piled on.

Yesterday was the key. I spent the entire day alone. I was the only guest at the B&B, and since my hosts had invited me to dine with them on Sunday evening, they honored my request to eat breakfast alone on Monday morning. After breakfast, I spent a little time reading in my room, and then took an hour-long walk in the cold, November gray. Followed that up with an hour in the Shrine Chapel, just me and Jesus. There is a peace and a quiet here that I have not found elsewhere.

The afternoon included a nap, a nice long drive on the windy, rural roads, and finally dinner. Just me, a book, and a tasty dinner, tucked into a booth in a quiet restaurant. Last night, I caught up on some reading and writing, watched a movie, read some more, prayed some more, and fell asleep early. Absolute perfection in so many ways.

But, the best part is, I woke up this morning at my usual time. (Finally... I've gotten caught up on my sleep!) And I am ready to go home. I miss DH and the kids. I miss the craziness of our everyday lives. I am hoping to take this calm, this peace, this camraderie I've developed with Jesus back home with me.

My retreat will close with noon mass at the Shrine... the last mass at the Shrine for this year. I didn't realize that when I made these plans; it was just a happy coincidence that I should be here for the once-a-month mass. And then, I have a 90 minute drive back into my real life. I think I will keep the radio off, and will treasure the silence just a little longer, before the noisiness invades and fills me once again.

Something Here...

So, I am on a personal retreat. I am staying at a bed & breakfast next to a Shrine to Our Lady about an hour and a half from my home. I've never been to this shrine before, and it is absolutely amazing.

Today, I walked and prayed the Stations of the Cross. The Stations are carved into 6 foot tall concrete pillars, that rest on 2 foot high pedestals. They are arranged in a circle shape along the side of a hill. So, they just tower over my little 5 ft. 2 in frame, especially the ones near the top of the hill. It is unbelievably silent here. I so rarely hear the sounds of a car driving by on the main road. While I was praying the Stations, the only sounds I heard were the rustling wind in the trees, the tap-tap-tapping of two woodpeckers, and the crunching of my feet in the leaves on the path. As near to absolute stillness as I think is possible.

The eighth station stopped me in my tracks. Jesus meets the women and children of Jerusalem. I know this station. I've prayed it in word and in image many times. But I have never seen the eighth station as I did today. The image carved into this concrete pillar was one of Jesus paused, cross on his shoulders, and his right hand held up, blessing the women and children.

Jesus blessed the women and children. While carrying the heavy cross, after having been beaten and ridiculed, after having fallen twice, after having looked his own dear mother in the eyes and seen her grief... at that moment, he paused to bless the women and children.

I tried to pray, to express some level of gratitude or acknowledgment of His love, and I couldn't. There were no words. I had no thoughts at all that could be expressed verbally, whether aloud or in my head. I just stood there. I struggled for words for a few minutes. Finally, I gave up, and chose instead to try to express all that I was feeling in raw emotion instead. I tried to send God all of the love that I have for Him, knowing even while I was doing that, that it was nothing compared to the love He has for us. I felt my immense insignificance.

I don't know how long I stood there, but I kept thinking the same thought: Jesus blessed them. In one of his darkest and most desolate moments here on earth, He stopped to bless others. He was putting others first, even then.

How often do I put others first, even in my best moments? Never mind my darker moments.

Is there really any way to express that in words?

Words of Wisdom

From Mother Teresa:

"It is very important to be kind to ourselves and control ourselves by
keeping balance."

Escaping

I am out of here in a few minutes... for my monthly bunco night tonight, and then tomorrow morning, am heading out for four glorious days alone. I will be staying at a bed & breakfast next to a shrine... time for me to pray, read, sleep, craft, pray, and unwind. Much needed downtime. Can't wait!

Cooperating with Grace

Last Saturday, I went to confession at a parish the next town over. I like to go to confession there fairly regularly. There is never a line, and the church is a really pretty and peaceful one... a former convent which became the home of a newly formed parish when three struggling churches closed/combined a few years ago.

During my confession, I brought specific attention to two areas in which I am really flailing and failing lately. I told Father that I was lost, and asked for some specific help in addressing these areas of sin. But, he didn't specifically address my concerns. He spoke instead about the need for me to "cooperate with the Grace that God gives me" and then assigned my penance.

As I was kneeling in the church, praying my penance, I was feeling a little frustrated. So much so, that I thought about going back into the confessional and asking for some more clarification. But when I turned around and looked, there was a line. There is never a line in this church. I have been coming here every 2-3 weeks for months and months, and I've never even seen more than one other person. I took that as a very clear sign that I was to trust the priest's counsel, and stayed a bit longer, praying for the guidance I had been seeking.

It turns out that I did get the needed guidance from the priest. He didn't give me the exact "recipe" I was looking for (you know... do this, say these prayers, and all sin will be gone from your life). But I have been meditating a lot on the "cooperate with the Grace that God sends" part of his advice all week.

It has been especially helpful during those times when I am tempted. Typically, when I am tempted toward my most habitual of sins, I will pray for grace, or sometimes even just pray for mercy and compassion.... more often than not, without the success I would (in my rational mind) want. But this week, I've been praying for the courage to cooperate with the Grace I've been sent. This puts the action on me, not God. I am not some poor sinner waiting for God to send me the Grace I need to stop sinning. I am a poor sinner, responsible for my choices and actions, and -- if I am willing to cooperate with the Grace He's sent me -- capable of overcoming my weakness in this moment and turning once again toward God.

It's not perfect. I'm not perfect. I am still failing, but I don't feel that I am flailing quite as often this week. Cooperating with God's Grace makes us partners... I cannot live a good and virtuous life without Him, and neither am I some lump of clay that He molds and manipulates. He gave me free will, a conscience, and the gifts of the Catholic Church and Sacraments... all He is asking is that I cooperate with these blessings, in each moment of every day.

Catholic Carnival is Up!

The latest Catholic Carnival is up over at Catholic Mom Climbing the Pillars. Check out this week's posts!

Shock and Awe

WOW!!!!

I so completely did not really expect Sen. Barack Obama to win tonight. I think I am still in shock.

May God bless him, keep him safe, and guide him in leading our nation.

Proud to be an American

We voted this morning. The kids and I walked across the street and up a bit to the Presbyterian church, and stood in line -- in the warm, spring-like sunshine -- for about 45 minutes. We saw quite a few neighbors and folks from the parish. DH came along after we'd been in line about 10 minutes. He was about 20 people behind me, and the children kept running back and forth between us.

I love voting. I never miss an opportunity. You will see me at the polling place in a monsoon in April to cast my vote for one school board member (and my kids are homeschooled!). When the time came to vote in my first presidential election, I registered in the state where I went to college. I wanted to flip the lever (yes, they actually had the old lever machines, and no, I'm not that old) and not just fill in an absentee ballot as I had done the previous two years.

Today, I was struck by the variety of people I saw. We live in a fairly homogenous area: especially in my tiny polling district, there is very little difference among people in race, ethnicity, economics, religion, you name it. And yet, we were so very different. There were several of us moms, with our kids all running around or sitting and coloring in the books we'd brought to entertain them. I saw quite a few senior citizens, some alone, some in pairs, with canes or walkers. (These people likely have a perspective I don't -- yet -- having lived through other "historic" elections and challenging times). There were professionals in business suits or dockers and polo shirts; women dressed in suits and heels; young adults reading novels while standing in line.

Everyone was calm, patient. I didn't observe a single person who appeared frustrated or annoyed with the wait. Even the poll workers were friendly and pleasant, not at all appearing rushed or stressed. Perhaps it was the extraordinary weather, or the feeling of being part of something bigger than ourselves. Perhaps it was the "historic" nature of this election: we will either elect the first African American president or the first female Vice President today.

I couldn't help but think that this was so very close to what our founding fathers must have envisioned when they designed this new form of government, and what the equal rights and suffrage workers must have dreamed of: every American adult, of all races, ethnicities, and economic classes, standing up and making their choice... casting their vote. Each of us with the same voice, the same say, the same power as any other.

On this day, no matter which candidate wins, we all do. Capitalism has come under fire lately, with the corruption and greed of Wall Street exposed in the financial crisis. But today, as we stand in line, each of us in our own polling district wherever we live, we are standing up for democracy... for the idealism of true representational government, even in this ever-so-less-than-ideal world.

This Week's Distraction: Harry Potter!

Hat tip to Sarah over at Snoring Scholar for the Harry Potter podcasts. Short, interesting thematic examinations of JK Rowling's masterpieces, from the perspective of a Catholic priest. I definitely need to download these to my ipod before I take off for my weekend getaway on Saturday morning.

I Couldn't Stop Smiling

Today at 10:30 mass, I was an Eucharistic Minister for the first "official" time. I say that because there have been about half a dozen times in the past six months when I have been thrust into the position (literally... the priest has just handed me the chalice and cloth, and walked away. Every time it happened, I have been taken by surprise, and have bumbled it in some way).

It was a journey for me to reach the place where I stood this morning, holding Jesus in my hands. First, I had to come to know that Jesus was fully present in the Eucharist. Then, I had to overcome my own lack of readiness.

In September of last year, my parish held a "Stewardship Fair" in which they had representatives from the many ministries available to try to recruit additional volunteers. At the time, both my husband and my mother suggested that I should volunteer as an Eucharistic Minister. My response was immediate and certain: "I can't. I'm not ready to hold Jesus and present Him to others yet. He'll let me know when I am ready."

The first time I was thrust into that position was Easter Tuesday last March. After mass was over that day, I sat in my car and cried for about 10 minutes. I was so deeply humbled and awed that He allowed me to serve Him in that way. When I told DH, he said that now I could volunteer to EM at mass. I said, "No. I am still not ready. He'll let me know. I am sure of it."

At each of the handful of times since then, I had the same reaction... deep awe and humility, and the certainty that I was not yet there. But about six weeks ago, I was at 10:30 mass with BigBro and Princess. DH was ill, and LilBro had stayed at home with him. We had had horrendous weather all morning (the remnants of a hurricane pushing through our area), and attendance at mass was lighter than usual. When the time came for the EMs to step into the aisle during the Agnus Dei, only 2 came forward. At this mass, we typically have 6 EMs. I watched Pastor's "deer in the headlights" glances at the 4 chalices and 3 ciboriums on the altar, and then back to the 2 people in the aisle. I watched as, one-by-one, people came from different places to help fill this need. One woman left the choir. The lector stepped into the aisle. And I knew that I belonged out there... but without proper training and the official blessing, I could not step in that day. It is one thing to step in untrained at a small mass in the chapel; a completely different thing to step up during Sunday high mass.

The next day, I called the woman in charge of the liturgy commission and volunteered. This past Tuesday, she and her husband (a Deacon) trained me and the Deacon administered the official blessing. I was really nervous. In fact, so nervous that I had a nightmare that night in which I was holding the ciborium and started munching on the consecrated hosts as if they were potato chips.

This morning, I was still pretty nervous, though calmer than I had been. I had decided that I would stand in the Precious Blood position. At least I had done that before. The whole first half of the mass, I kept thinking about what I needed to do, going over all the different scenarios in my mind. But, I got completely caught up in the consecration. I forgot everything except for the presence of our Lord. DH had to elbow me and remind me to step out into the aisle during the Agnus Dei. I stood there, watching Pastor elevate the host and chalice and said a prayer of thanks for this awesome act of trust.

When we stepped up onto the altar, everything was different than the Deacon and his wife had said, and I ended up with a ciborium. Somehow, I missed out on receiving the Precious Blood. But it didn't matter. I stepped down into the aisle, raised the Precious Body and looked at the woman who was standing before me. "The Body of Christ," I said. I smiled at her as I placed Him in her hands. From that point on, I could not stop smiling. This was the most amazing, most joyful, most wonderful gift I could ever give to anyone. And I got to give it to so many people. Over and over and over, I held Jesus between my fingers, said those special words and gave Him away.

Of all the things I've learned since becoming a mother six and a half years ago, the thing I've come to understand most clearly is that it really is better to give than to receive. I always enjoy watching my children open gifts much more than I enjoy opening them myself. But nothing can compare to the deep, humble, awed joy I felt this morning, as I watched person after person receiving Jesus Christ. Thank you, my sweet Lord, for this incredible blessing.