Mother-Son Date Night or Reptiles, Reptiles Everywhere

Last night, BigBro and I went on a "date." Princess helped me get ready, ensuring that my jewelry choices met her very distinctive tastes. We were dressed reptile-casual, because, as BigBro said, "There are going to be snakes there... I don't think you should wear a skirt."

We had a great time. BigBro held a small snake, a lizard, an alligator, and a Python. I had a small snake thrust into my hands by Serengeti Steve, much to BigBro's delight. Then, to score even more points, I agreed to have the Python wrap itself around me.

Notice the slight look of panic... the snake was starting to squeeze me pretty tightly. Serengeti Steve promises it was just trying to get warm.

Both of us passed on the scorpion and the tarantula. Two moms had the tarantula placed on their heads and walked down their faces. (I still shake when I think about that).

Overall, it was a fun night. BigBro had a blast. He volunteered a lot, and I got some great mini-videos of him. It was nice for us to have time together, just the two of us. But I was also (pleasantly) surprised when BigBro suggested we bring LilBro with us next year, "because he'd like this, too, Mom."

It was the first time in my life that a date has ever asked me to hold a snake, but I'm pretty sure it won't be the last (since God blessed me with two sons).

Suckers and Cookies and Playdates... oh my!

This morning included running a few quick errands, made sweeter by the treats involved for the kids. As we were pulling out of the driveway, Princess asked where we had to go. I listed off: cleaners, grocery store, and then back home before friends came to play (it's my friend's turn for an afternoon off).

This was greeted with a squeal of delight from the back of the van.

"This is a great day! We get suckers at the cleaners, cookies in the grocery store, and then we get to play with friends. Thanks, Mom!"

Always glad to help. :)

Bits and Pieces

It's been a busy week, and there hasn't been much time for blogging. March starts on Sunday, and that month is completely packed. So, while these little catch-up-style posts don't usually suit me, it's all I have time for today.

On Growing Up Quickly... Yesterday afternoon, I took the kids to the children's museum. It was gloriously empty in there (quite a rare event), and I actually got to sit down on several benches throughout the museum and just let the kids run/play/explore. It was wonderful, and they were completely worn out by the time we came home. I'm still in a bit of awe that I have no babies anymore... but the fringe benefits of more independent children do make up for missing that newborn snuggle.

On Escaping... My friend and I are escaping this weekend. I've lost "fun Jen" somewhere in all the busy-ness and craziness of the past few months, and my friend's been working 6 days a week for 4 months now. We both need to kick back, relax, and unwind or someone is going to get hurt. On the agenda: massages, margaritas, movies. Not on the agenda: children waking us in the night, whining, formal schedules.

On Mother-Son Date Night... A few weeks ago, I posted a picture of Princess and DH on their way out to the Daddy-Daughter Dance. Apparently, one of the community centers is cashing in on the other side of the equation, too. BigBro found out about a Mother-Son Date Night, and asked if we could go. We are going tonight... for dinner and a "reptile experience." BigBro is very excited. (So am I, actually... though not about the reptiles!)

On March... Oh, March... try to be gentle with me. DH has to travel 3 full weeks in March. I am facilitating 5 Bible Study sessions in March. My CRHP retreat weekend is in March. I am teaching a homeschooling class on Modern Art to early-elementary kids all four Wednesdays in March. Sweet March, please be gentle. If there is any way you could help me out by sending good weather, so the kids can have lots of outdoor time, and if you could possibly grant me an extra 2-3 hours each night (after the kids go to bed), so I can get everything done, and still get enough sleep that I am not a zombie. Or, at the very least, just don't throw anything else on my plate for the next 31 days, please.

On Lent... I have to say that these first few days of Lent have been really good for me spiritually. My Lenten penance is going well (so far). My prayer life has been good. Morning mass has been moved from the Chapel to the Church to accommodate the increase in attendance. (I'm not thrilled about that, because there seems to be less fellowship in the church; we are more spread-out, and I never get a minute with Father, since he's in the sacristry and not the gathering area after mass). But it's great to have so many more people at mass. In fact, I love how full my parish's calendar is this Lent. We have scheduled confession times 4 days a week, Stations on Friday nights, some sort of mass/talk/penance service every Wednesday. Every day, there is some sort of spiritual activity. It's so great to see such an active, full schedule of spiritual activity available. A true sign of a healthy, vibrant spiritual community.

On Reading... In addition to the Bible readings I am (supposed to be) doing every week for the Bible study, I am also in the midst of several different books. *** My Life with the Saints by James Martin, SJ is fantastic! I've read about this book from several people, always highly recommended, and when my friend started reading it last month (and sending me passages via email), I broke down and bought it. I read it on the treadmill every day, and I am loving every bit of it. His writing style is friendly and conversational, and he weaves his personal memoir in and around the lives of several saints and other spiritual role models. It's been wonderful to get to know so many new spiritual friends. *** I also started Return of the Prodigal Son by Henri Nouwen this week. I am underlining and margin-noting this book, so it is moving a little slower, but there is so much in this book that relates directly to my life. Most especially lately... my overwhelming quest to control everything, to be the one who takes-charge and tries to run it all... and then ends up with a March like I've got on tap. That whole "Let go and let God" thing... yeah, I just don't do it. (I need to do it... I just don't). *** And when I need to unwind with some fiction, I am re-reading Into the Forest by Jean Hegland. I first read this about 6 years ago, and loved it. It is the story of two homeschooled teenagers, modern times, but some sort of breakdown has happened in society, and they are basically stranded in their house in northern California (about 30 miles from the nearest town). The story follows them as they move from passively waiting for someone to come and "rescue" them to learning how to be self-sufficient, to take charge of their own futures, in a world where all of "modern" society has crumbled. I haven't read this one in a while, and there are a lot of places where the crumbling of society hints at some of what we are watching happen right now. I am not trying to be a doomsayer, but Hegland talks about how everything happened so gradually that the real trouble escaped notice for a long time, until it was too late. So, not exactly light fiction, but inspiring in the end, nonetheless.

Have a great weekend!

On Being a Troublemaker

The problem with being the outspoken voice in the crowd, the argumentative one, the one always asking "Why?" and "How come?" and "But what if?" is that you get a reputation of sorts.

And when the same person is often at the receiving end of your questions, your arguments, your outspokenness, a general perception of you is formed in that person's mind.

So, when you attempt to send a complimentary, upbeat, excited email to that person, he may read it from a place of dread, he may skip over the bulk of the email, and he may respond with an angry, argumentative message that has absolutely no bearing at all on the content of the original email.

And your response is a very frustrated, "HUH???????????"

*********************************************************************

Two more (somewhat frustrated) emails and a phone call later... and it appears that all is once again quiet on the western front.

For now....

Mental Time Capsule

We had a very busy and noisy weekend, and I spent much of it looking forward to some time alone in the Adoration chapel on Sunday afternoon. As I was getting ready to leave to run an errand and stop at the chapel, Princess asked to come along. I hesitated. I didn't want to tell her no, but I really had been looking forward to my time alone with Jesus. I offered a compromise: she could join me for my errand, and then I would drop her home before I went to the chapel.

"No, Mama. I want to go pray to Jesus, too."

Um. Ok. You see, this is really my time... my way to recharge and get ready for a new week. But how could I tell my five year old not to come along and spend time in prayer?

I took a few minutes to describe the chapel and to tell her that she would not be allowed to talk... at all. She agreed. She grabbed a book and hopped out to the car.

When we got to the chapel, she took off her coat, set it and her book in a chair, and walked up to kneel before the monstrance. The sight of it took my breath away. My sweet little girl, kneeling in a green plaid jumper, hands folded, head bowed. Tears came to my eyes, and I prayed for my daughter more fervently than I ever have in my life. What a blessing this was! How could I have been so selfish? How could I have almost left her home?

We only stayed for about 20 minutes. Princess was silent during that time. She alternately sat in a chair, reading and knelt before the monstrance, praying. When she began to tire of the silence and (relative) inactivity, she came over to me and whispered, "How much longer?" I knew my time was up, and we knelt together, whispering an "Our Father."

She put on her coat, picked up her book, and genuflected to the monstrance. I paused for one last moment of gratitude for this incredible blessing.

I came home and told DH about our little visit to the chapel. Tears again came to my eyes as I described her kneeling so reverently before the Lord. He told me that we needed to hold onto this picture... to make a mental time capsule of this moment: the reverence, the sweetness, the complete trust with which she came before God.

May each of us learn to approach Him that way.

Doubt vs. Faith

A few weeks ago, during a quiet communion service, I listened to a homily on doubt and faith. The Deacon purported that doubt and faith were opposites, that if we have a true faith, we will never doubt. I wanted to argue with him. (That happens to me in this little chapel sometimes... it's small, intimate, and without the formality of "church," and I have to remind myself that it's a homily, not a discussion). I believe that the opposite of faith is certainty, not doubt. If I am really certain, then there is no need for faith. If my faith is really true, it can withstand doubts and questions. Doubt does not weaken my faith, it strengthens it.


I didn't give his homily much more thought until this week. The four facilitators and two deacons met to discuss the first few weeks of the Bible study. During our meeting, two of the facilitators made comments suggesting that they were not encouraging the sort of discussion, questioning, and deeper thought that I was seeing in my sessions. (For example, we had a discussion last Monday about the creation stories in Genesis... how much is "fact," how much is "fiction," and in what ways do the fictions take away from or build up the facts).

The Deacon running the program, the same Deacon who gave the homily a few weeks ago, made a point of saying that we didn't want anyone leaving the Bible study questioning their faith. I'm not sure that I agree. I've spent a reasonable amount of time with this program, and I think it is, overall, a good one. But there are places where the program differs from the Catechism. Nothing schismatic or dogmatic, but just a general stretching of a definition here and there to make the overall theme of the program more easily accessible. I don't believe that questioning the premise of this program, or the tenets of the Catholic faith, calls the strength of my faith into question. I can hold the Creed deep in my heart, and still ask what each piece of it means... how it applies in my life... is it really true.

When I was 14 years old, and in eighth grade, I asked my Catholic school teacher, a former nun, how we knew that God existed. I was a quiet, studious, adult-pleasing child. I was never in trouble, and didn't make a habit of questioning authority. (Something I've outgrown in recent years... thankfully). I had attended this small school for 9 years, and was known to be a good and obedient child. My question was sincere, and I asked it expecting the same sort of intelligent and sincere response I had always received in school.

My teacher responded by scolding me. How dare I ask that question? What was I trying to do, questioning God's existence? I could just sit inside during recess and think about my misbehavior.

I was hurt, shamed. I was not used to being scolded in front of the class. But even more than that, I was confused. My question had been sincere. I had expected a real answer. If God is real, surely she... my teacher, a God-loving woman and former nun, should be able to help me understand.

I thought a lot about her response over the next few weeks and years. The only thing that made sense to my adolescent mind was that I had figured out the "secret." Her response reminded me of the response my parents had one December, when I approached them with suspicions that some elements of our family's celebration were, in fact, completely fictional. They affirmed my revelation, and then threatened me with a very sad Christmas morning if I ever shared that knowledge with my younger sisters. "They are entitled to enjoy the magic for a while longer. You better not ruin it for them."

My teacher's response was eerily similar. Her anger made no sense... unless I'd stumbled onto the "big secret." Could it be that God really didn't exist? That he was just some fiction created by adults so that kids could enjoy the "magic" of childhood? And I wasn't supposed to figure it out just yet, but I did... and what if everyone else figured it out, now that I'd asked the question? How dare I ruin it for everyone else?

I never really stopped believing in God, but I did stop trusting adults to provide me with real answers. When I walked away from my faith in college, I know that the seeds of doubt instilled by my eighth grade teacher played some (small) part.

When I came home to my faith a few years ago, I spent a lot of time in prayer, trying to figure out why and how I had left the Catholic Church. I kept coming back to that day in eighth grade. All of the doubts about the validity of the Church, the Creed, the Trinity and God collided with that memory. If a sincere question from a teenager can take down God, he mustn't be much of a God. I became really angry with this teacher. It took me a while to find peace and finally forgive her. But, in the process, I promised myself that my children will always be allowed to ask sincere questions, and I will always try to answer them honestly and sincerely.

So, as I sat at that meeting the other day, and heard fear that the Bible Study would cause people to question their faith, little red flags went up in my mind. I've spent a lot of time questioning my faith and the validity of the Church in the past few years. Every single time, my love and my awe for God has deepened. This Deacon has stated repeatedly that he hopes this Bible study will awaken a love for Sacred Scripture -- and for God -- in our parish.

If we approach the sessions fearful and discouraging of questions, how can the program serve to do anything other than introduce fear, doubt and distrust? If we believe, in the deepest parts of our hearts, that the faith we hold so dear is true, then surely we can handle any questions that may come up.

Personally, I'd be worried if people didn't ask questions.

Marking Time in Lent

Lent is just around the corner... we are less than one week until Ash Wednesday. Are you ready?

How to mark Lent has been a big source of conversation around here lately. BigBro and Princess have decided to forego the chocolate syrup in their milk during Lent. (This is a real challenge for Princess, but she is determined to do it! She's five now, you know!)

I've been looking for a way to mark Lent with the kids, something meaningful, simple, and kid-friendly. Last year, once a week, we gathered around the table, lit 14 candles, and read through "The Story of the Cross." After each station, the kids took turns blowing out a candle, until we were sitting in (relative) darkness. We'll do that again this year, but expecting the kids to pray all the stations every day is just not realistic. I need something simple for everyday.

My friend came to the rescue with "The Lenten Tree," a book of short devotions for each day of Lent. The book includes permission to copy the images for each day, and use them as a sort of Jesse Tree for Lent.

Instead of hauling the Jesse Tree out of storage, I decided to make a poster-chart. The Sundays (when BigBro and Princess can have chocolate milk) are marked in green. The important days of Lent are designated. Each night, after we pray the devotion, we will hang that day's image on the poster. The kids will be able to watch us move ever closer to Easter.

I am hoping that this will be a simple, yet meaningful, way to mark this special time of year as a family.

On the Benefits of Exercise

Father and I met for spiritual direction and confession on Monday night, and one of the topics that came up was exercise. Where was I with my commitment to regular exercise? I told him about my attitude adjustment last month, and how ever since, I've gotten on the treadmill at least 5 days a week for about 30 minutes. He asked how I felt about it, and I was happy to be able to tell him that I was fine. I really was. I didn't love it (I don't know that I'll ever love exercising), but I didn't mind it, and I never got on the treadmill grudgingly. He encouraged me to keep at it, and warned me that, in time, I may see a spiritual need to exercise daily, not just a physical need.

I had a rough morning yesterday. I didn't sleep well. DH had an early class, which meant I couldn't go to morning mass. I thought about taking the kids to 8:15 mass, but I had a Bible study meeting at the parish center at 10:30, and if we went to 8:15 mass, there would be no time to get school work done. On top of that, I had gone to sleep angry about a friend's unjust situation. I woke up angry. I tried to find productive ways to channel that anger, but my frustration continued to mount. I knew I needed to get on the treadmill, but I never found time to do so.

We got home from the meeting, ate lunch, and I was in a foul mood. I sent a harshly worded email. Then I looked over at the half-dozen laundry baskets, neatly folded by DH on Tuesday evening, and decided to channel my anger into productivity by getting it all put away. Halfway through sorting the laundry, I remembered I still hadn't gotten my treadmill time. I finished the laundry, made up BigBro's latin quiz, and hopped onto the treadmill. I set the speed a little faster than I usually do, and started walking. Before I knew it, more than thirty minutes had gone by. I got off, graded BigBro's quiz, and noticed that I felt calm for the first time since talking to my friend 48 hours earlier.

That calm stayed with me the rest of the day. I was amazed at how productive I was, at how much I was able to accomplish, at how much better my afternoon went than my morning... all these unexpected benefits of the discipline of regular exercise.

Happy 5th Birthday, Princess!!!!

Five years ago, you came into our lives. Every day, your smile brings us joy!


When you were born, Daddy called you his "Little Princess,"
a name you live up to every single day!



I love watching you grow, become more independent and learn new skills. You love
to help me cook and bake. Someday, I know you will outshine me in the kitchen!


May all your days be as sweet and love-filled as this one!

Breakfast in bed (chocolate chip pancakes... by special request) is a
family Birthday tradition. You could not wait!

Happy Birthday, my sweet girl!

A Royal Week for a Little Princess

This is a big week for Princess. Last Monday, she and Dad went to the Daddy-Daughter Sweetheart dance.

Yesterday, of course, was Valentine's Day. She loved all the cards, candy and treats from the people she loves. And she graced all of us with special valentines, as well. My personal favorite: pink stickers on white paper: "I Luv Mom" It's hanging on the fridge, where it will stay til it disintegrates some 30 or 40 years from now.

Tomorrow, she will turn 5. Today, we are celebrating with a Princess Party! We have games, pinata, and lots of fun planned. And, of course, an Enchanted Castle cake. What Princess doesn't need an Enchanted Castle to live in? (Or at least, to snack on!)

Gospel Values: Mourners

In continuing this deeper look at the Beatitudes which I started here, I turn to the second in the list: Happy are those who mourn. Or, as Jesus put it, "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted." (Mt. 5:4)




My worksheet asks these questions:

• Are you able to show your emotions?
• Are you able to express your feelings?
• Can you cry without embarrassment?
• Are you able to feel deeply your own and others' needs?
• Do you "release" others to show their emotions?

At first glance, I would not have considered mourning in quite this way. I suppose my view of "mourning" was closed and compartmentalized: mourning is something reserved for the death of a loved one. But these questions challenge me to see mourning in a more open way; this Beatitude is about owning and sharing the hurt and brokenness within each of us.

And, using this view, I would give myself high marks for this Beatitude. I am very capable of showing emotion and expressing my feelings. I always have been. I was the kid in 4th grade whose teacher sent a note home because I was disturbing the class by reading a book. (Yes, disturbing the class by reading to myself!) My teacher allowed me to read quietly if I finished assignments before the rest of the class. Fourth grade was when I met (and became instant friends with) Anne Shirley. As I read my way through Anne of Green Gables, Anne of Avonlea, and the rest of the series, I would laugh out loud, or suddenly weep in deepest sadness. Hence the note, requesting that I read less emotional material during class time.

So, am I emotional? Am I able to share my feelings? Yes. Do I "release" others to show their emotions with me? I hope so. I've always been able to sense when someone needed to talk, and have been able to provide that compassionate ear. I know that I am frequently distracted these days, so I hope that I am not losing that sense.

But overall, I would rank this Beatitude as "have really grown," though of course, with room to continue growing.

Bad Hair Day

I screwed up this morning. Big time.

When I got home from mass, just after 7am, DH asked me to cut his hair before he got ready for work. I've been cutting the DH's and the boys' hair for over a year now. I bought hair clippers in late 2007, when DH and BigBro went to buzz-style hair cuts that needed frequent maintenance. It took me a few times to get the hang of it, but I've been doing a decent job for quite a while now.

Last week, I gave BigBro a trim, and oiled the blades afterwards. This morning, still a bit bleary-eyed from my sojurn in LilBro's bed, I pulled out the kit, plugged in the clippers, and turned them on, wiping off the excess oil with a cloth. DH sat down and I started with the first stripe down the center of DH's head. I forgot to put the size guide on! Immediately, my mistake was scarily obvious. DH had a nearly-bald stripe across the top of his head. I felt horrible. I started to cry and apologize. But there was no way to fix it. I couldn't put the hair back on.

I found the smallest size guide and finished the rest of his head, giving him a very close buzz cut, much closer than he'd ever had. He so sweetly told me that it looked fine. He was ok with the cut. And, hey, it would last longer than 3 1/2 weeks. He hugged me and told me to stop worrying about it. He wasn't upset. He knew it was an honest mistake, and he forgave me.

But I felt horrible. I still do. He came downstairs a short time later, and while his hair is short, it doesn't look terrible. But I am having a hard time forgiving myself. It was an honest mistake, but also a careless one. I just didn't have my head in the game this morning. I was busy chattering away about this and that, not paying attention to what I was doing. And DH paid the price for my inattention.

Before he left for work, he told me to blog about this. "And I want it to be about forgiveness. I don't want you beating yourself up for this all day." How well he knows me. Guess my kids aren't the only ones who need a lesson in forgiveness.

In Praise of My Bed

We have an awesome bed. We really do. It's king-size, so we have lots of room. It's a pillow-top, nice and soft and cozy, but still supportive and firm. We got a really good deal on it when we bought it 10 years ago. We bought the floor model, and were able to get this really awesome bed for the same price of the "just ok" beds we were looking at.

And the sheets... we have incredibly soft, 400-count, Egyptian cotton sheets. They started out soft, when I bought them 7 years ago (because 400-count sheets are not in a one-income budget, we haven't gotten new sheets since BigBro's birth). But years of washing has brought out a softness that can only come with time. Sliding in between these sheets is a deep embrace.

DH and I have exactly the right pillows, too. We both have body pillows. I got one during my pregnancy with BigBro, and quickly found that there was no other way to sleep. DH "borrowed" mine one night when I was out of town and loved it so much that he got his own.

Why am I waxing poetic about a bed this morning? Because I am missing my bed. LilBro has been sick for the past two weeks, just colds and mild infections, but he's been coming into our room every night between 2-3am and dragging me to his twin bed, where we cram ourselves in among his special blankie and menagerie of stuffed friends. Half of my body ends up hanging off the edge of the bed. There is no room for my body pillow, so I wake with stiffness in my lower back. His pillow is too thin, and my neck stiffens as we sleep. His character-printed sheets are only 180 count. And, of course, my companion flips and flops, kicks and twists (so unlike DH's gentle squeezes!)

This morning, I woke at 5:27, stiff, sore and tired. I surreptitiously slipped out of LilBro's bed and tip-toed down the hall. Silently, I opened the door to our room and slid between the 400-count Egyptian cotton. My entire body relaxed as I curled around my body pillow. DH reached for my hand, giving me a gentle squeeze. I drifted into a lovely dream just as the alarm began it's grating beep beep beep.

Oh well. Maybe tonight will be my night. One can always hope!

Gospel Values: Poor In Spirit

Last night, at the CRHP meeting, we did an exercise entitled "How do I live by Gospel values?" This is my second time through formation, but the first time I've seen this activity. Truthfully, I hadn't prepared for it (having other responsibilities at last night's meeting), and so I first looked it over during the meeting's discussion time.

Initially, a few of the questions jumped out at me as being appropriate for a friend of mine. I made a mental note to send her an email about it, which I did this morning. As I was typing the email to her, I found myself noticing the questions, considering them in relation to my life, and deciding to do a series of blog posts on these Beatitude-inspired questions.

Happy are those who know they are Spiritually Poor

• Have you come to the place where you can admit to others that you don't have all the answers?


• Can you admit that you have needs?


• Can you admit that you need the Lord and others?


• Are you able to let others know where you are "spiritually poor"?


• Can you admit mistakes without blaming others?


• Can you genuinely rejoice when others receive what you would like?

In the Sermon on the Mount, where Jesus gives us the Beatitudes, he phrased it like this: "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven." (Mt. 5:3)

As I look over these questions, one virtue jumps out at me: humility. To be truly poor in spirit, to gain the kingdom of Heaven, I need to humble myself. Am I willing to do that, to admit that I don't have all the answers, to ask for help when I need it?

If I am being honest, I need to admit that I am not doing this. I am learning -- slowly -- to admit that I don't have all the answers. But I struggle mightily with asking for help, admitting that I have needs, admitting that I can't do it all on my own. DH knows this. Again and again, he reminds me that I am not in this marriage alone, that I have a partner who will happily step in and help me, if I just let him.

Am I able to let others know where I am spiritually poor? Well, maybe, a few trusted friends, but certainly not everyone. I do my best to project a calm, confident, in-control persona to most of the world, most of the time. Those people who have seen me crabby and wrinkled are definitely within the "circle of trust." But that's not really what I am called to in this teaching, is it? I am called to vulnerability, even (perhaps especially?) when I most want to project false confidence.

Can I admit mistakes without blaming others? Does that include blaming the children for my lack of sleep and subsequent crankiness? Does it include blaming the weather for cabin fever and my subsequent crankiness? Does it include blaming the latest cold virus for my general malaise and subsequent crankiness?

And that final question: can I genuinely rejoice when others receive what I would like? How I wish I could answer that question with a resounding "yes!" I am reminded of the Litany of Humility, which I have prayed at different times. It's been a few months now since I've been willing to go there, but maybe I need to put that one back into the prayer rotation.

The exercise asked us to evaluate ourselves in each Beatitude: weak, weak but growing, needs attention, or have really grown. I think my grade for Poor in Spirit would have to be weak, but willing to grow.

And it Was Good

The readings yesterday and today are from the beginning of Genesis, the story of creation. Yesterday morning, Father talked about the poetic structure of this story: God said. And so it happened. God saw that it was good. He mentioned that a core Catholic belief is here: that all of God's creation is fundamentally good. We may be wounded by sin, but we are fundamentally good.

Yesterday afternoon, I facilitated the first Bible study session. My parish has four identical sessions running each week, each with a different facilitator. We have about 120 people signed up for the program. I had 32 people at my session yesterday.

I am disappointed with my performance as facilitator yesterday. From the outside, it may have seemed ok, but I am disappointed with myself. I had prepared at length for the material. I knew what I was going to say, when we would break into small groups, etc. I had a to-the-minute schedule, and for the most part, we stuck to it. We started on time and ended on time, covering all of the required material. As I said, from the outside, it likely (hopefully) appeared successful.

But what I hadn't adequately prepared for was my student population. I have years of experience facilitating training programs, and am very comfortable in this setting. But the time of this session (in the middle of a Monday afternoon) meant that my clientele was from a completely different demographic than I am used to teaching. This group was predominantly made up of senior citizens. I whipped through a brief explanation of the four-color charts and graphs, not realizing that two tables were filled with blank stares. I spoke too quickly and too quietly to be fully understood. At the end of the session, I shared my honest assessment of where I fell short with the Deacon and another facilitator. Hopefully, they can take my failures and make the necessary adjustments in the remaining sessions this week.

Yesterday afternoon, I was feeling pretty badly about it. I know that there were some confused faces in the crowd. I did my best to get everyone back on track before the session ended, but I fear that I may not have reached everyone. My perfectionism reared its ugly head, and I got caught up in all of the "would-haves" and "should-haves" and "wished I'd haves."

I mentioned this in an email with a friend. This morning, she wrote back, kind words recognizing my perfectionism and acknowledging my disappointment. Then she added this: "I know you would like to have done better, but truly, what you are doing is GOOD." And the words from Genesis came back to me. God saw that it was good. He didn't see that it was perfect. Perfect wasn't necessary for God (though certainly, it would have been possible for God to make creation perfect). No, it was not perfect; it was good. And that was enough for God.

Can I let it be enough for me, too?

Teaching Forgiveness, too

It's been a rough week around here. It wouldn't take much reading between the lines to realize that LilBro and I have been tussling a bit this week. But I am not the only one who's been tussling with him; LilBro's been fighting with his sibs all week, too.

The other day while I was making lunch, Princess came to me in tears. She had hurt LilBro "by mistake" when she'd done something or other. She had apologized to him, but he'd responded by yelling, "No, you're NOT sorry, and I'll be mad at you FOREVER." Princess looked up at me miserably, "But I really am sorry, Mama, and I just want to be friends again."

I called LilBro over, listened to his hurts, filled him up with sympathy and hugs. Then I asked him if Princess had apologized. He nodded. I asked him if he thought Princess felt bad about hurting him. He nodded. I told him that he needed to forgive her. He said, "Ok, Mama" and ran off to hug his sister.

And I started thinking about how I've mostly missed this lesson. I've taken the time to teach the children to apologize when they've wronged someone. I've taught them that they need to take a deep breath and apologize with a sincere voice (not a mean or snotty voice). I've taught them to make eye contact, and -- where appropriate -- offer a hug, a toy, or some sort of consolation to the victim. But I haven't taught them how to forgive someone who's wronged them.

This is a really important lesson, and I've been thinking about it all week. How could I have missed this? How have I taught them to take responsibility for their actions and apologize, but not to take responsibility for their actions and forgive?

When I was growing up, I was taught to apologize, but I don't recall any lesson on forgiving. It was enough that someone say (even grudgingly), "sorry." The only response I ever recall was either "that's ok" or "c'mon, let's go play." Neither of which really addresses the issue of forgiveness. When I was a new parent, I read parenting books incessantly, and occasionally came across the school of thought that "forcing kids to apologize" was wrong. I dismissed that idea immediately, and always required my kids to apologize. I figured that learning how to apologize properly was no different than learning how to use the toilet or how to tie shoes... there would be some failures along the way, but actually having to do it was the only way to learn.

The same theory applies to forgiveness. I need to make forgiveness a lesson that is taught daily in our home, even if that means it gets done sloppily or grudgingly at times. I hope that teaching the kids to forgive will help me to become better at it, to hold fewer grudges, to let go of nursed hurts. To see that it really is in forgiving where we are forgiven.

My LEAST Favorite Age (so far...)

Three years old is my least favorite age (so far). Yes, three's can be absolutely adorable. Yes, they can say and do funny little things. But they are also so desperately trying. At least, my kids are at 3.

I remember when BigBro was 3. DH would come home in the evening and ask what we had done that day. "I put BigBro in time-out." I would reply. "What else did you do?" "Another time-out. And another." It seemed like there were days where he was into one form of mischief or another and the entire day was spent disciplining him.

Princess threw a lot of tantrums when she was 3. I think I spent most of that year carrying her to her room, and telling her that we'd love to see her again when she was calm. She could throw a good tantrum... sometimes 45 minutes would go by before she would be ready to re-join us.

LilBro is now in the throes of a good reign of Three-dom. And I am just exhausted by it all. He stuffs toilet paper in the sink drain and turns the (icy cold) faucet on. He refuses to wait for me to finish a math lesson before getting himself a drink and ends up pouring an entire pitcher of (sticky) lemonade all over the floor. He is difficult and defiant. Every reasonable request on my part is met with a loud, snotty, "NO! I won't."

He's lucky he's so darn cute.

He's also lucky that I've got some experience now... that I've seen the longer picture. BigBro, who famously spent days in and out of time-outs, now needs only a reminder of proper behavior. Princess rarely throws even a little fit (though she is still a first-class whiner!) So, I know that consistent, firm-but-kind discipline at 3 will pay off... sooner than I think.

Still...some days it's just really hard to remember that while my arm is thrust in icy water attempting to declog the sink!

Ego Revisited

A few months ago, after I gave a very revealing and humbling talk at a CRHP (Christ Renews His Parish) retreat, I wrote about ego and the Holy Spirit, wondering how and when to differentiate between the two. How do I know when I am being prompted by the Holy Spirit... or when my ego is just being stroked? How do I know if I am actually doing God's will... or my own?

These questions have come back to me again in the past few weeks. I have a lot on my plate at the moment. In addition to my usual homeschooling, mothering, and household duties, I am the Spiritual Director for the current CRHP Formation Team (and weekend retreat in mid-March) and I am a facilitator for the 8-week Bible Study that begins next week. Both of these activities require a good amount of planning and preparation on my part every week.

The CRHP position was all Holy Spirit. I wanted nothing to do with it. But there was no peace in my heart. I was being called to this role, and until I accepted it, I was agitated and irritated. I know that was not me. There is no way my ego had anything to do with it.

The Bible Study is all ego. Not to say that God is displeased with my willingness to step in and take on the extra responsibility. I had planned to attend the sessions anyway, so accepting the facilitator role was not a significantly bigger time commitment. But truly, there were no promptings of the Holy Spirit (at least on my end). When the Deacon (the one I don't always get along with, no less) approached me to facilitate one of the weekday sessions, I was flattered. When he explained that the program was completely laity-run, I was tickled. When he mentioned who the other three facilitators were, I was floored. He was including me with these other people... these pillars of the Church? It took me less than a second to say "yes!"

I don't mean to pass judgment on one choice over another, or to suggest that one of these responsibilities matters more than another. I also don't mean to say that the Holy Spirit is only present when I am being forced to do something I don't want to do (though more and more often, when I am feeling that way, I now stop and consider if God could actually be stretching me in some way).

Both of these responsibilties are good for me. I am excited about both, am learning a lot in both, and am growing and stretching in both roles. But if I am going to be truly honest here, left only to my own devices, I would only have the Bible Study commitment on my plate right now.

Shortly after my post last fall, one friend emailed me to say that ego was ok... as long as we left space for the Holy Spirit to do its work, too. I think balance is the key. It's ok for me to be motivated by a stroked ego, so long as those things I am doing are not leading me away from God. And it's equally as important for me to make the space for God, to quiet my ego and listen to what He wants, to where He is calling me.

Perhaps my question is the wrong one. Instead of asking "ego or Holy Spirit?", should I be asking "ego and Holy Spirit?"

Change I Can Believe In

Fifteen years ago this coming May, I graduated from college. In so very many ways -- in my core values, my personality, my demeanor -- I am the same woman I was back then. But there has been one dramatic change in who and what I am: my Catholic faith.

When I went off to college at age 18, I was a mass-going Catholic. Somewhere along the way, over the next four years, the Catholic Church ceased to be relevant to my life. I stopped going to mass. The longer I was away from mass, the less I trusted the Catholic Church. As time went on, I became certain that I had made the right choice. By the time I graduated, I had stopped identifying myself as a Catholic, and had been regularly attending weekly services at an Unitarian Universalist Congregation for more than a year.

My slow journey back to Catholicism started with DH's insistence that we be married by a priest, and our joint decision to raise our children in the Catholic faith. Two years ago, still somewhat reluctantly Catholic, I attended a Christ Renews His Parish (CRHP) retreat at my parish. I spent the next six months meeting regularly with Father, working my way through the Catechism of the Catholic Church, and slowly, coming to accept and then love the Catholic Church and it's authority in my life.

The life I am living today, the people who know me and make up the bulk of my social network, all know that my faith is an integral part of who I am. Before I am Mom, Wife, Teacher, Friend, Sister, Daughter, I am Catholic.

In the past month, I've been blessed with the chance to reconnect with two people from college... two friends who were an important part of my life back then, but with whom I'd lost contact over the years. Both have expressed surprise at my faith. "I don't remember you being particularly religious," said my friend (in town on business and adding on an extra day to catch up with me) last week. "I wasn't."

That night, we went out to a local coffee shop with a deck of cards. The questions came. The how, the why, the what-abouts. I listened to my friend explain her intellectual and philosophical issues with religion. I got them all. Truly, I did. I was there. And every now and again, the questions come back. There is a lot about the Catholic faith that cannot be explained in a rational and intellectually-satisfying way. There is an element of it all that is just ... faith.

One article of Catholic faith is the Real Presence in the Eucharist. I explained to my friend that we believe that the Eucharist really is the body and blood of Jesus Christ. She stared at me. There was no judgement, no concern, but definitely curiosity. What had happened to the self-assured feminist of our college days? Where was the woman with the scientific mind who loved to argue points to their most rational and logical conclusions? How had she been replaced by someone who believes a cracker and wine is the body and blood of Jesus?

She didn't ask more, and I didn't explain further. Some things are too personal for a casual reunion. But I understand her curiosity. Sometimes I wonder, too. What happened to that woman with all the answers? How did she come to know just how little she knows? How did the consummate feminist come to accept the authority of an institution that shuts women out of all leadership roles... and still manage to call herself a feminist? How is it that she really does believe that the cracker and wine are transformed into Jesus' body and blood... despite retaining their ordinary appearance? How did she learn to trust her heart over her head?

I don't know. I don't have all the answers. But as I listened to my friend talk, I could see all the places where God's hand is present in her life. I heard myself pepper our conversation with words like "blessings" and "God's will" and "submission." She talked about life throwing us curveballs, and I talked about discovering God's plan. We were talking about the same thing, but with a completely different vocabulary, a different worldview, a different perspective.

These reunions have been a real blessing, both last week's in-person reunion and last month's email reunion. It's wonderful to catch up with old friends. (I suppose that's the main draw of Facebook). But it's also a chance to take stock of myself. To remember the Jen I was, to recognize the Jen I am, to see where and how I've changed.

It's been a crazy journey, one that I never would have imagined for myself. I told my friend more than once that I never planned or expected to be a "religious" person. But I can no longer consider my life from any other perspective. I am a different person than I was 15 years ago. I have changed. And it is a change that I can truly believe in.