A Few Thoughts as Lent Begins...

For the past few weeks I'd been thinking about what to "do" for Lent this year, wanting whatever I chose to be meaningful and fruitful.  As that was mulling around in my brain, I came across some readings in a couple of my prayer books on the subject of discipline.  Discipline is a difficult area for me sometimes (hello not wanting to exercise, get to bed on time or use free time wisely!).  I  started thinking about the relationship between discipline and discipleship--how being a good disciple requires discipline.  So, I started with one of my favorite nerd things to do--looking up the etymology of both words.  Both words originate from the latin disciplina, meaning "to learn."  Hmmm.  Interesting.  So, when we cultivate more discipline in our lives, we open ourselves up to learning better.  I liked the sound of that.  And my quandary of "what to do for Lent" was solved: cultivate more discipline and, in turn, learn more about good discipleship.


I decided to severely limit my computer time (social media only to check messages--no scroll-throughs or clicking links), to read Four Signs of a Dynamic Catholic and Bread and Wine: Readings for Lent and Easter throughout Lent and to start a regular diciplined exercise regime.  Sounds simple enough, right?

Yesterday was Ash Wednesday, theveryfirst day of Lent, and it felt hard.  I never realized how much entertainment "idle-clicking-style" computer time had been giving me.  Yikes.  I didn't like this realization, because I like to think of myself as someone who has a pretty good balance of screen time to "real life" living.  So, only one day into my Lenten practice and I'm already learning!  The other thing I realized, a kind of ugly truth to accept, is that a part of me felt resentful of my self-imposed rules.  As it turns out, I don't like people telling me what I can and can't do with my time--even when that person is me!  How odd to feel resentful of something I chose to do in order to learn and grow and better myself.  It reminds me that saying yes to ourselves and indulging our, even harmless, whims and desires is not necessarily what's best for us.


I can't wait to see what this season of Lent will teach me.  I already feel more of a sense of peace (my word for the year) as I settle into this simpler, more disciplined routine.  My mind feels more focused (much less of that "monkey brain" feeling my mindless computer clicking had been causing) and more conscious awareness of the pockets of free time I have between tasks in my day.  I like the still, quiet sense of being that is beginning to enter.  I like the freedom (freedom defined as "becoming who you are meant to be" which I read in this book) it affords me to engage in pastimes that will feed me.  I like the reminder throughout the day that God is there, waiting to teach me more about Himself, in this season of quiet reflection.

I'll leave you with this lovely quote I've been pondering, an excerpt of "Ash Wednesday" by T.S. Eliot:

Are you engaging in any special practices this Lent?  How is it going so far?

How to Find Stillness in a Culture that Tells you to Do More

Awhile back I read an article from the New Yorker called No Time by Elizabeth Kolbert. The article takes an in-depth look at how Americans use their time, suggesting a growing addiction to busyness.  Americans, it seems, feel the need to use up every single minute of their time, without allowing much space in the day for rest.  And, worse than that, people tend to brag about how busy we are, as if all this frenetic over-scheduling gives us a sense of purpose.  We almost feel ashamed of our leisure time, as if we're not important enough without a giant list of activities on our calenders.    What is going on with Americans, and how do we stop this?  This growing trend in busyness is evident by looking through past Christmas letters and cards:


"Researcher, Ann Burnett, has collected five decades’ worth of holiday letters and found that they’ve come to dwell less and less on the blessings of the season and more and more on how jam-packed the previous year has been. Based on this archive, Burnett has concluded that keeping up with the Joneses now means trying to outschedule them."

How sad.  For the past 50 years, Americans have been trading in their precious time of quiet reflection for an over-stuffed calender.  But filling every minute of our lives with activity is not how we're meant to live.  We need stillness. We need true rest.  And I don't mean mindlessly scrolling through emails or binge-watching the latest season on Netflix (although I do love me some Netflix!), but real rest.  Our minds can't keep up this exhausting pace without losing something--like our health, personal development and spiritual growth.  Kolbert addresses the negative effects of this mental preoccupation:


"A lawyer playing with his kids is technically at leisure, but if all the while he’s checking his phone for texts from the office he may feel that he hasn’t had any time off. Schulte terms this the “mental tape-loop phenomenon,” and she argues that it’s sapping our precious energies, so that we can’t even “decide what to think about, worrying about home stuff at work and work stuff at home.'”

So, even when we have time off, we still feel the need to occupy our brains in an energy-reducing way.  But it gets even worse.  This preoccupation with busyness has a snowball effect, as it's fed by an emphasis on consumerism:


"Instead of quitting early, they [Americans] find new things to need." Europeans will further reduce their working hours and become even more skilled at taking time off, while Americans, having become such masterful consumers, will continue to work long hours to buy more stuff."

So, the catch-22 is that more the stuff we convince ourselves we need to enjoy our days off, the less actual leisure time we end up getting, since we need to work more in order to buy more. And, in the end, most of this stuff just ends up weighing us down, and keeping us from what truly fulfills.  Another problem with all of this busyness is that our identities become enmeshed with our work lives.  Our sense of purpose is then based on the quantity and type of work we do:


Work may not set us free, but it lends meaning to our days, and without it we’d be lost.


I think there's a false belief in America, that those who are wealthy, have the most leisure time.  If we close our eyes, it's not hard to imagine the stereotypical sunlit stroll through a golf course and luxurious beach vacations.  But this is often not the reality for those who are well off.  Kolbert states that: "the disproportionately compensated have a disproportionate motive to keep on working. (taking a day off when you're rich means losing a TON of money versus just a few bucks for someone who is poor)."

So, what is the way out of this mess?  How do we effectively reclaim our leisure time and get the real rest we need?  I think there are two simple things we can do to help remedy the addiction to doing:


1) Realize that "needing more stuff" is a myth (The old adage that money does not buy happiness is just as true today as ever!)



2) Make an effort to be truly present and schedule white space into your day


There's a simple exercise you can do to assess what really brings you joy. Jot down a list of some of your best memories--the times when you were most happy.  When you are done, look at your list and see how many of those memories involved a lot of expensive "stuff", or whether they were things you could do for very little money.  Now look to see if the time was a fast-paced jam-packed day, or whether time time felt slow.  Very often some of our best memories are times spent with loved ones in very simple ways--going for walks with Grandma or picnics at the lake.  Nothing rushed, nothing extravagant.  No deadlines looming or texts and emails to send.  Just time lived slowly and lived well.  Time cherished with loved ones.

I encourage you to examine the pace and activity level of your life.  Is there a way to reclaim more leisure time and slow the pace down a bit?  Do you agree with Kolbert's article?  I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Even There...

Even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast. --Psalm 139:10

It's 1am and I awake to the pain of contractions.

No, I think.  Not again.

I am 18 weeks pregnant and yesterday there was spotting.  Immediately I know I am losing this baby.  Experience tells me this, for 3 years ago, I had a similar loss.

I don't want to leave the warm comfort of my bed, confirming what I already know.  If I can just lay here a little longer, I can delay the pain I know is coming, even if only for a few minutes.

I'm no longer pregnant.  There was no kicking yesterday, along with the spotting.  The little life inside of me has already slipped away.

I know what I must face, so I will myself out of bed to the bathroom, preparing myself for the sight of blood.  My husband is at my side as the precious still-warm lifeless little body slips out.

My boy.

My perfectly formed, tiny soft boy who fits perfectly in my hand.  Eyes closed, mouth in the shape of an "o"-- like an angel singing God's praises.


He's up there now singing praises right along with the angels.


I grapple to understand how just the other day I felt the flutters, the gentle nudging of legs and arms squirming about.  I know that life is fleeting, I have lived sudden losses before.  Will it always be this way, I wonder?  Will loved ones just keep slipping away without warning, death like a thief in the night?

Even there...

We go to the hospital for there is lots of bleeding now and I bring my boy with me in the car.

How odd, I think, to be bringing my baby to the hospital and not the other way around.  In a daze I welcome the sympathetic care of nurses and doctors around me.  Here, in the ER, they know sadness like this.  They witness trauma, the faces of the bereaved and bewildered each and every day.  These kind faces know all too well the fragility of life and the faces of the grieved.

God knows this grief, too.  He watched His only Son suffer and die, a lamb to the slaughter.  He knows this pain, the pain of a lifeless child.  There is comfort in that.

Even there...

The priest comes to the hospital so we can baptize our little boy.  He's all wrapped up in a tiny blue hat now, a hat knit with love for newborns to wear home.

But my little boy won't be coming home.  

This sweet little hat serves another purpose today.  Fitting perfectly as a blanket, my wee one still wearing his "o" mouth, tucked snugly in all that baby blue.

We need to pick a name.  Brendan was a name we always liked, and Kevin reminds me of the story of St. Brendan the Voyager who sailed his way to the Isle of the Saints.  It's perfect.

Our little boy sailed his way to the saints, too.

The priest pours the water three times, only the smallest droplets needed for his tiny little head.  And still he goes right on singing, that perfect "o" mouth set in endless song.  We recite the familiar words, the words I've said all my life: the Our Father, the Baptismal Promises, though it's hard to get them all out because the tears are coming hard now.

Even there...

I recieve Jesus on my tongue and the words the bible run through my mind--the ones I've heard hundreds of times at funerals (I used to be a music director and have sung at many many funerals), the lyrics I've sung again and again, run through my mind like a melody of comfort: In the eyes of the foolish they seemed to have died, their departure was thought to be an affliction...but they are at peace...may Christ who called you take you home, may angels lead you to our parents side...give eternal rest O Lord and may your light shine on Him forever...even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.

I thank God for these words of truth.  I cling to them.

The words of eternity and Truth are branded into my heart, and I didn't even know I had memorized them all until now.  The feel the hope and peace wash over me, right here in this hospital bed of grief and pain and all that red that just keeps coming.  Lord help me get through this long and awful night.  Knowing my Brendan has sailed his way home makes this pain more bearable.

Even there...

After a long and sleepless night we are home.  

Home without him. 

I want an image of St. Brendan to view, so I search online.  And I find this:

photo source

The words--the words along the border are the very same words of comfort I had recited to myself just the night before:

Even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.

I read the entire psalm and of course it's all so perfect, so fitting:

You have searched me, Lord, 

 and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise;
  you perceive my thoughts from afar. 

 You discern my going out and my lying down;
  you are familiar with all my ways. 

 Before a word is on my tongue
  you, Lord, know it completely. 

 You hem me in behind and before,
  and you lay your hand upon me. 

 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
  too lofty for me to attain.

 Where can I go from your Spirit?
  Where can I flee from your presence? 

 If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
  if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. 

 If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
  if I settle on the far side of the sea,

 even there your hand will guide me,
  your right hand will hold me fast. 

 If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me
  and the light become night around me,” 

 even the darkness will not be dark to you;
  the night will shine like the day,
  for darkness is as light to you.

 For you created my inmost being;
  you knit me together in my mother’s womb. 

 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
  your works are wonderful,
  I know that full well. 

 My frame was not hidden from you
  when I was made in the secret place,
  when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.

Your eyes saw my unformed body;
  all the days ordained for me were written in your book
  before one of them came to be. 

 How precious to me are your thoughts, God!
  How vast is the sum of them!

Were I to count them,
  they would outnumber the grains of sand—
  when I awake, I am still with you.

 If only you, God, would slay the wicked!
  Away from me, you who are bloodthirsty! 

 They speak of you with evil intent;
  your adversaries misuse your name. 

 Do I not hate those who hate you, Lord,
  and abhor those who are in rebellion against you? 

 I have nothing but hatred for them;
  I count them my enemies. 

 Search me, God, and know my heart;
  test me and know my anxious thoughts. 

 See if there is any offensive way in me,
  and lead me in the way everlasting.

The Lord knows me, He knows this pain.  I am precious to Him and was knit in the secret place, just like my Brendan. He had a plan for my boy all along. I cannot outrun His love, for even the night is like the day.  He will keep right on pursuing me to offer His comfort, dispelling the darkness. He will carry me through. 


I know I have, once more, encountered a thin place.  I've known thin places before--the precious sacred spaces, the spaces between heaven and earth, where you feel God's loving touch so powerfully you can almost reach right out and touch heaven.  I thank God for this newest thin place, and know I will be ok. I will thrive, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.


Even there.

 

Ten Tips on Prayer...

Lately, I've been taking stock of my prayer life.  As is typical of a life with God, I have many peaks and valleys.  Lately I seem to be dipping into the latter, so I figured I should turn some attention to ways I can grow in this area.  A book I started reading awhile back but never finished popped into my head: Spiritual Direction by Robert F. Morneau (if you've been reading my blog for awhile, you may know that I love this author!  As far as I'm concerned, everything he writes is pure gold).  Although it's a great book, its very dense,which is probably why I've never finished it!


Anyway, I pulled out my notes on the portion I had read so far (yes, nerd that I am, I take notes when I read!).  The content is great...so great that I promised myself to pick the book back up and try to finish it.  With any success I'll have lots more goodies to share in the future!  But for now, I thought I'd share some of what I've learned thus far.

10 Tips on Prayer:

1)  Prayer is loving attention to God.  Therefore, it is meaningless when we are distracted. 

 Hmmm...I need to work on this one.  I too easily find myself becoming distracted during prayer. Often when I sit down to pray I think, " I'm feeling a bit hungry--let me grab a snack first."  Or, "Oh, let me just check my email first."  Thankfully I've become more aware of this lately, and I intend to work on his one!

2)  Prayer is only as good as the love that is put into it.

Our words ring hollow without love in our hearts. And love cannot be hurried.  You can't just rush into prayer.  By its very nature it is slow.  Sometimes I think about what else we might be missing out on by hurrying through our days.  Lessons in life are definitely learned slow.

3)  Prayer requires self-control of body and spirit.  Therefore, a person who is satiated on earthly things is no longer responsive to God.  We can help bring clearer focus on God through :fasting, silence and waiting.

 I find this a challenge in this culture of so. much. noise.  Our attention is pulled in every direction,  our social media-satiated culture being one of the here and now. What's happening on twitter right now?  What's looking interesting on Pinterest?  Have I gotten any new texts? Waiting becomes increasingly difficult when we find ourselves able to be entertained pretty much constantly, with information and technology right at our fingertips.  Taking a cursory glance around a waiting room, you'll find a  sea of dimly-lit faces staring down at their phones.  (The magazines on the table don't even get picked up anymore!) It just causes me to wonder what might be gained, if we all sat with silence more often.God speaks in silence.

4)  We absolutely must bring our true selves to God, just as we are.  Do not be tempted to hide parts of yourself.

God knows us.  He knows what's going on in our minds and our lives.  And He loves us no matter what.  He wants to help us.  But there's no point in praying if you don't show up.

5)  Make God the focus of prayer--not yourself.  Try to transcend the self-centered anxieties that crowd our minds.

There is a time for petition, confession and repentance of course.  But let's not forget to also make time to simply worship Him.  Take time to adore, with a thankful heart.  When I do this, I find myself truly transformed.  This is not the case when I just mentally unload all of my worries and struggles, without getting to the other stuff--the God-praising stuff.

6)  Try to create a sense of reverence, wonder and awe in your prayer.  Do not be afraid to be child-like.  Allow yourself to fill with wonder of life and of the universe.  Do not place your focus on man-made things, but the things of God.

Be child-like.  Yes!  As a mom it's so easy to see how awe-struck a child's eyes become at the things we so often take for granted.  Simple things... like the beauty of bubbles in sunlight or the feathered wisp of clouds across the sky.  Take time to really see the beauty He has made for us!

7)  Know that God's activity in prayer is more important than our own.  Experiencing God through prayer is a gift from Him.

This is an important one for me to keep in mind, because I sometimes think I have to be this way or that in order to have a powerful prayer experience.  But simply making an effort is enough.  God will meet us where we are.

8)  There is no one way to pray.  We each have our own unique path to God.

No two prayers are ever alike.  Each one is uniquely our own, each experience one of a kind, leading us where we need to go.  Yes.

9)  Prayer leads to intimacy with God, and therefore to intimacy with everyone and everything.

I love this--that prayer leads to greater intimacy with everyone around us.  And of course it's true--when our hearts are transformed by God we are more attuned to everything and everyone else.  As we grow, we're better able to serve others-to listen better, to love better. Our hearts are elevated which helps us look outside ourselves to see a world in need.

10)  Prayer can happen at all times, in all things so long as we keep God with us.  Be like a sunflower that follows the sun all day, pointing its colorful head to orient toward that shiny orb in the sky.

I love this--be like a sunflower!  I want to remember this when my teething toddler is cranky or I realize mid-recipe that I'm out of eggs.  To keep God with us at all times and in all things--what a challenge this is for me.  But what an amazing goal to have!

I hope you were able to find something here to help you in you prayer life.  I know I will be working on all of these things.  May we all become like sunflowers, following God all day long!

Shared with:

Many Little Blessings, Weird Unsocialized Homeschoolers, 

Women Living Well, Works For Me Wednesday

Slow and Steady Wins the Race

 It was a Monday morning (Mondays. I know.) and I was feeling particularly unsteady, dashing around trying to catch up on things that had fallen behind.  Megan had wet her bed. There were party trays to put away two weeks after the party.  Mount laundry towered high yet again, despite my efforts to keep up.  Several reminders later, Adam continued forgetting his manners at the breakfast table.  While schooling the kids (late start, no less) Luke wrote backwards Ps, an old habit popping in like an unwelcome guest.  Yes, it was just one of those days.  So, I did what I often do in response to those days; I tried to fix it. In a tornado of manic energy, swirling round and round I tried to the fix the Ps, fix the manners, fix the bedding, the party platters, mount laundry...fix, fix, fix. Trying to make all clean and tidy, as if long-term projects could be fixed in mere minutes, and Rome could be built in a day.  But a tornado leaves just one thing in its wake--utter destruction.  I felt it in my heart and worse yet, could see it reflected in the eyes of the kids: I had failed.  Instead of restoring peace and order, my whirlwind of "fixing" had left me completely spent and barren...like a tree bearing no fruit.

Sitting down, wallowing in my own defeat,  I then remembered the prayer I had read earlier that morning:

Divine Teacher, I can be rather picky sometimes, setting up the circumstances and paramenters within which I think you must work.  I can be so self-obsessed, seeing myself as central to all, ignoring what you are doing, slowly and patiently, in this world of human hearts and lives.  The fruits of your spirit are: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.  Today I will live these in gratitude.  Help me be patient with myself and with others when we seem to bear no fruit.  I trust that you are with us and know how to bring about growth in each one.  Amen.  --Ordinary Grace

This.  This is what I had been doing all morning--ignoring God, relying on myself to try and DoItAllRightThisMoment, sprinting like a flailing fool toward the proverbial finish line. Like the classic story The Tortoise and the Hare, I had read to the kids a few weeks back.  The tale that leaves me feeling like a big fat hypocrite, knowing full well that I'm that hare.  But God cares nothing for the fruitless business of hustle and bustle, of hurry and worry and lack of endurance. In His infinite wisdom, He moves slowly, patiently, steadily plodding along in our hearts, working in mysterious ways.  Ever-present, never failing, God is the tortoise walking inside each of us.
 

And when I feel like that barren tree, picked clean with leaves all shriveled brown on the ground, I know that He is there, working within me, teaching in slow and steady whispers.

 Slow and steady wins the race.

Though I cannot see the finish line, nor when and how the race will end, I can rest in the knowledge that He is here, beating out a path of growth within.  Revealing in bits and pieces His wisdom, alleviating the need to sprint and scurry and spin.  We can rest in Him.  And on the days I feel all wrong, like a backwards P in child's scrawl,  I know that slowly, steadily, He is growing me.  Though the growth is often too slow to see, that Wise Tortoise goes right on walking, performing micro-miracles, day by day, within each of us. It's all just a matter of trust, my word for 2013.


I trust that you are with us, and know how to bring about growth in each one. Amen.


So maybe there's hope for this harried hare, after all?  I continue to trust He will keep on plodding along in my heart, encouraging me to, one day, reach victory.

 I am confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.

Phil. 1:6 




shared with:

Imperfect Prose

The Space Between

I wake up, throat burning, eyes bleary from shedding big fat tears of mom-worry.  Today is the day my sweet little boy, just 3 months old with the mouth like mine and the eyes like his, is getting cut open.  He has a hernia which needs repairing.  I feel helpless, aware of how little control we have over what life brings.  The big life and death moments, these are the things we cannot rule, the things that matter most.

My sweet boy is hungry and I cannot feed him.  Belly needing to stay empty for surgery, my eyes plead apology as I gaze down at him.  He grins wide, not realizing what this day will bring.


Hand in hand, my husband and I bring our 4th born to the hospital, searching for courage but finding little.  We whisper frantic prayers, trying hard to stay calm.


It's standard procedure.  Should only take an hour.  Happens all the time.  They bounce right back.  These phrases bring little comfort, but we cling to them nonetheless, willing to try on anything that  cloaks the pain and worry.


Down the hall we march past other kids and parents.  United in our stress, we don't need to speak.  We exchange knowing glances finding comfort in fellow faces lined with anxiety.  And the children--waiting so brave. The little blond boy, pale faced, hugging a Garfield stuffed animal plays video games.  The sweet little girl with the pony-tail swinging and dress twirling about, prances across the waiting room while worried parents hover nearby, pained smiles across their faces.  They glance at our baby carrier and wince.  A baby.  We silently wonder what each one is here for--what little broken places need fixing.


We walk the corridor to the pre-op room and I lose it.  You never realize just how much you'd sacrifice for your child until you're confronted with their frailty.  I would give anything, do anything to avoid my sweet little boy being taken away--life in the hands of a surgeon we barely know.  And I know this kind of love comes from elsewhere.  From Love Itself.  From love on a cross.  And every painful brush with death I've had comes to mind--thoughts of eternity looming too close. I find myself dangling in the uncomfortable space between Earth and Heaven, where the separation feels thin, like moth's wings.  When your heart just might burst from the momentousness of it all, and you're broken open to life's bigger lessons, delivered in painful packaging.

The nurses try their best to console and pass boxes of tissue, because they know.  They see these looks every day.  They wear crazy happy shoes of tie-dye and zebra stripes, don teddy bear scrubs and name tags with shiny stickers.  Anything to make this place feel more like a warm happy place instead of this space between.  Despite their efforts to comfort, the clock on the wall looks cold, metering time much too slowly.  It cares not for solace, wears no face of pity.  It just keeps pace-- this rhythm of life and death.  Tick tock.  Tick tock.  My little one is taken from my arms, crying hysterically from hunger and confusion and now its time to wait.

We all deal with these moments differently.  The man eating crackers by the handful, tossing crinkly red wrappers in the bin nearby.  The brunette woman sipping hot chocolate, glancing nervously at her iphone, a welcome distraction.  There are muted chuckles across the room--and I understand the times when you just can't help but laugh instead of cry.  A man in the room next door faces Mecca, alternately bowing and clutching his chest, eyes closed, whispering reverent prayers.  I can't help but stare in awe at this private moment between a man and his faith. The space between brings us all to our knees and I stare at my empty baby carrier, waiting, wondering.


Surgeons come with reports for some--just a little longer now.  Things went very well.  The face of relief is universal and I want to reach out and celebrate right along with those whose wait is over.  They hug teddy bears tight and wipe tears of relief, unable to contain broad smiles of joy.  And though it's only an hour it feels like an eternity and finally our smiling face comes to greet us, too.  Everything's fine, the hernia was large, you can come and see him now.


Down the hall, sighs of relief rise in our throats.  We pass other children, some recovering, some entering their own space between.  There's a brave bald-headed little girl being wheeled away and mingled with my own relief is the pain of others right here in this place--the place where life and death come together.  My heart aches for this girl and the others like her, and I am faced with my sense of helplessness once more.  The pain of this world is too large, too real, too present.  The banged up, broken, ripped up places inside us all that need stitching back together and the knowledge that only He can truly repair it.

I hold my sweet groggy boy in my arms, a hazy fog taking over from exhaustion and emotional overload.  My mind is fuzzy but my heart swells big as I hold my little boy to my chest, wires and monitors still attached.  The computer screen throbs signs of life but I know the biggest signs of life are the throbs of love we feel here, in the space between.  Thankful for another life lesson of sacrificial love, the universal language, this bumpy road of motherhood brings, I prepare to take my little one home.  Though relieved my heart still aches for the others in this place--the ones still wearing their faces of bravery and worry.  I want to tell them it will all be ok, but I don't know that and who really does but our Maker?  The elevator doors open as the clock on the wall keeps metering out the moments--the big, the little, the ones that make you yearn to reach out and grasp the hand of the kneeling man and the girl sipping cocoa.  Here, in this sacred space between we are all swirling together like tie-dyed shoes, trying our best to love and to live.  In the space between, we are One Body.

 

"So in Christ we, though many, form one body, and we all belong to each other."

Rom. 12:5

Shared With:

 Imperfect Prose

He Speaks

Have you ever wrestled in life with a question, praying that God would give you an answer?  We pray, and we wait, hoping the answer will come quickly, but many times...it doesn't.    It's so hard to wait and wonder when we'll have our answer.  But sometimes, just once in awhile, God answers us right away.  And when this happens it's AMAZING.  I was blessed recently with the latter experience.  I am still in awe to have experienced God's voice so powerfully, so poetically.

 

As I've mentioned in recent posts, I've gone through some significant life changes over the past several months.  Between moving and having a newborn all at once, this past Fall and winter were really difficult.  And when things get tough for me, the hobbies and interests I love most fall by the wayside.  Things like art, cooking (the "fun" kind, I mean!), gardening, crafts, reading and yes--blogging.  These are the things that really keep growing and energized, and in their absence I started feeling really down.  Thankfully I'm feeling better now.  Life has settled down a bit, and I'm able to reinvest myself.  But as I delve back into creative pursuits, I've been assessing which things I should take up again and which I might pull back from, since my free time is so limited.


I started to question whether or not I have meaningful things to write, since most days I feel like my brain resembles a big pile of mush (newborns will do that to you!).  Some of the deeper things I love to write take time to flesh out--like deeper faith topics and life lessons.  I'm just not a "fast" writer when it comes to the deeper stuff.   The insights learned require stillness--something a homeschooling mom with a newborn does not get much of!  And there are so many truly gifted writers out there.  Writers who inspire, who write consistently, and probably with much greater speed and skill than I.  The internet is a pretty big place and I guess I wondered if what this oft-mush-minded mom has to say even matters in the grand scheme of things.

So, I prayed about it.  I asked God to illuminate my path--to show me the ways he wants me to invest myself.  Should I keep writing, even though it's hard to find the time?  Do I have anything meaningful to say? And HE ANSWERED .  He answered the very next day.  I sat down for my morning prayer and opened my meditation book--the one I've been reading for Easter.  This poem was there on the page:

When I Write

when I write

of the joy

of life with God

I think of you

being

for that moment

one with me

then I wonder

why that moment

ever ended

and I long

for when I don't

-Ralph Wright O.S.B.

Right away, I knew this was my answer.  It was one of those powerful moments where you truly feel the presence of God right there, swelling in your heart.  Those moments that knock you off your feet as your eyes well up.  Ok, God wants me to keep writing.

But sometimes God takes things one step further.  He kind of clobbers you over the head with His answer, just in case you weren't really listening.  (I can be a bit slow sometimes!)  So, God gave me an even clearer answer.  That very same evening at bedtime, I thought I'd do some reading.  I pulled a random book off  the shelf to thumb through--a book I've read before and thought would be good to read again.  I noticed I'd bookmarked a page several months prior and opening to the marked page,  I saw this:

Let It Be Written

Why write?

Why get out pen and pad,

chain oneself to a desk,

wait on the muses,

dwell in solitude

while the rest of the world

frolics to and fro?

Prestige?

Money?

To stem the tide of time?

Why, why write?

The psalmist had a motive:

"Let this be written for ages to come

that a people yet unborn may praise the Lord" (Ps 102:18)

Again the tears started flowing and I knew that, I need to keep writing.  Though time is limited and my thoughts a jumble, I will write.   I look back on this experience I am still in awe that I would receive such a powerfully crystal clear answer. Feeling completely unworthy of such a gift, I'm so thankful for this grace in my life. 

So, if you find yourself in a spiritual dry spell, questioning if God hears your prayers, know that HE IS THERE.  He hears every single word. Each struggle, each plea, each whisper and outcry for grace and mercy, He hears them all.   When the right time, He will guide you in His own wonderfully unique way.  He only asks that you place your trust in Him.

Trust just happens to be my word for 2013.  The word I chose to fully embrace, in the midst of change and transition.  Trusting in His guidance I continue on my path. writing along the way.

2013...a year of change and trust

It's been ages since I've last written in this little space.  So much has happened over the past few months which has left me with no time to tap away at the keyboard, though I've had lots I've wanted to share!  The biggest change that took up all of my time this past Fall was moving to a new house.  I know there are people out there who are able to sell their house, pack up their belongings, find a new house, unpack their stuff and not have it cause Complete Life Upheaval, and to those who fit in this category-- I am in complete awe of you!  I, on the other hand, am the exact opposite.  A creature of routine and habit and all things familiar & comfortable, moving has been a HUGE change, and rather difficult one at that.  Happily, we are just now starting to settle in as new routines develop.  As we begin to make this new house our home, another huge change is on the horizon--our newest bundle of joy is due in just 4 short weeks! 

All of these life changes are tremendous blessings--I hope I don't sound like I'm complaining, because I'm not.  We have been richly blessed with a larger space for our growing family and this little life kicking away inside of me reminds me of more good things that lie ahead.  But I just wanted to share how this past season has really s-t-r-e-t-c-h-e-d me, forcing me to rely more on God, trusting that He would lead the way through all of the changes and bumps in the road. 

Trust.

Trust is not something that comes easily to me.  I struggle with trying to control things, to rely on myself instead of trusting God to lead the way.  So, on the heels of big changes with more soon-to-come, I thought that TRUST would be the perfect word for me to work on in 2013.

This year I'm hoping to find more peace amidst the unknown, to trust that things will unfold as they ought, in their own time.  I want to embrace change, letting it grow and shape me into the person I'm meant to be.   And most of all I want to be optimistic about that big unknown that lies ahead, rather than overwhelmed and filled with trepidation.

Last year my theme word was courage.  Although I think I grew in that area (and hopefully continue to?) I have to say that a tough first trimester last summer combined with the moving craziness of the Fall overshadowed my focus considerably.  In all honesty I feel like the second half of last year I was pretty much in survival mode, and not really growing much at all (or perhaps the challenging busy seasons of life make us grow but we're just too busy to notice?).  Anyway, I finished out 2012 feeling very depleted. 

But now I am ready to renew my focus (as best I can with a newborn coming, anyway!).    I love the way the cold dark short winter days force us to slow down and turn inward. I'm looking forward to reading more, praying more, reflecting more and stopping to take in the little things that bring me joy...all the while growing in trust.

Happy (belated!) New Year to all of you, and I hope to blog a bit more regularly (as baby allows me to!) in the near future!

If you have a theme word for 2013 I'd love to hear about it.  Please feel free to share below!

Seeking the Infinite

We live in a society that tells us: "Go get it."  See something you like?  Go get it.  Want a shiny new bobble?  Get  it.  Slimmer body?  Eat this, do that--you've got it. But what society fails to mention, an inconvenient little caveat, is that none of these things brings lasting joy.  Sure, they may feel good for a while--give us a boost, some extra pep, a spring in our step.  But satisfy the deepest longings of our hearts?  Sorry, but--no.  I've been reading a wonderful book this Easter season called Easter Grace: Daily Gospel Reflections.  In it, a passage on the subject of desire states:


"The reality [is] that deep within we are seeking the infinite--that which lasts forever.  Much in our society today is focused on self-interest, encouraging us to do everything for our personal gain and satisfaction.  But part of us, deep inside, will never be completely satisfied with earthly things.... [Only Jesus] satisfies the deepest hungers of our hearts."  (emphasis added.)


This is so true.  When it comes right down to it, aren't we all, in the end, seeking the infinite?  Do those new shoes give you peace deep within your heart?  Does a snazzy career or shedding 20 pounds quiet the ugly, lost, hurting places deep within?  While they may lend some satisfaction and temporary distraction, they never truly satisfy.  Are these evil pursuits?  Certainly not.  We are all called to use our gifts, challenge ourselves and seek to enrich our lives.  But the danger lies in losing the balance between earthly desires and eternal ones.  Once we turn away from God, lost in pursuit of our earthly goals, we are headed into dangerous territory.

There was a time not too long ago that I had begun to lose my "heavenly focus."  So wrapped up in my own little world of earthly desire, I had completely placed my focus on...well, myself.  Rather than consulting God to set my path I got sucked into a world of external desires--longing for "stuff," acting out of pride, and thinking about all of my own wants, rather than focusing on how I might serve others.  Instead of seeing the beauty in all of the things in my present life I got stuck in a downward spiral of:

If only my house were bigger.

If only I had a maid to help with some of this mess.

If only my husband could pick up his dirty socks once in awhile.

If only I could magically press a magic "fast-forward to bed" button on my kids on the hard days.

If only, if only, if only...

Before I knew it, I found I was no longer satisfied with all of the extraordinary graces in my life.  Rather than "seeking the infinite" I was begrudging the present and dreaming of a non-existent future of what could be.  And if we don't get a grip on these desires, the longings just get bigger and hungrier until we reach a place of total dissatisfaction with the present.  We act out of self-interest to the point of even hurting others.  In our focus on what "could be" that we lose the beauty of what is.  And this line of selfish thought can become the devil's playground for a whole host of idols-- be it physical fitness, career aspirations, imbalanced time spent on hobbies, etc. The list goes on and on.


And the truth is, that many of the puffed-up dreams we chase are really just illusions, anyway.  It's easy to convince ourselves that our "rub a lamp and make a wish" life would fulfill our deepest longings, but in the attainment, the reality often falls short.  In an recent interview popular blogger Jennifer Fulwiler talked about her light bulb moment she when, at the pinnacle of her computer programming career, she thought (paraphrased) : "This is it?  This is the dream I chased?  This is really kind of...lame."  (Great interview, by-the-way!  I highly recommend watching!)  And if we, in our "light bulb moments" fail to pray for guidance, the illusions snowball.  And that is a sad place to be--trapped in an illusion. 


It is not in the attainment of personal pursuits that we are truly filled, but in the emptying of self.  We are called to die to self in order to be filled by Christ.  When we serve others in love, when we act on the whisperings of the Holy Spirit, our longing can truly be satisfied.  When we kneel at the foot of the cross in sincere humility, with soft supple hearts, it is only then that we can truly be nourished.  The Lord fills our gaps and empty places with abundance.  But He can only feed us if we acknowledge our hunger for Him.  We need to make space inside of us for Him to fill.

I was at the grocery store the other day and saw an old man struggling with his shopping list.  I was frazzled, just trying to hurry through the rest of the trip with my 3 kids in tow. The man looked troubled as we perused the cheese selections.  Admittedly, (not my finest moment!) I felt a little irritated he was taking up most of the aisle.  It was almost lunch time and this was the very last aisle of the store, so by this time the kids and I had had it.  The man looked at me and asked: "Do you see any more of the cheddar on sale?"  I knew he needed my help.  I felt so torn between my own desire (to be DONE with shopping!) and the nudging I felt to help.  So, I found the cheese he was looking for, and as it turned out, he had also lost his pen.  I paused for a moment holding my purse, knowing that only my favorite pen was inside.  I really didn't want to part with it.  But he needed it.  So, I gave him my pen.  Immediately after I felt so happy I had helped this man--he looked at me with such gratitude, and thanked me so heartily.  Truly, there was nothing better than that moment--of choosing someone else over my own stress and ridiculous pen-loving desire.  I can buy another silly pen, but I'll probably never get another chance to be a blessing to the old man on the cheese aisle.


So as you live through your weeks and months and years, go ahead and make your plans.  Make great resolutions, dream big, reach for the stars.  But all the while, ask the Lord to walk your path with you.  Include Him in those plans of yours, and thank Him for the gifts and graces along the way.  Dream big, but remain humble and open to the path He sets, enjoying the graces of each day.  And allow yourself to be amazed by what the Lord can do when you let Him take the lead.

Do you have any "If onlys" you need to let go of in order to seek the infinite?

Family Prayer Jar {an idea for Lent}

I've had been meaning to post about our family prayer jar for quite awhile but never got around to it. With Lent starting this week, I thought it would be the perfect time to share! If you've never heard of one, a prayer jar is simply a collection of prayers on slips of paper, placed in a jar as a way to augment your family prayer time. The prayers can be switched out by liturgical season (e.g. Advent prayers, Lent, Easter and so on). I originally put ours together just to add a little something and to our nighttime prayer routine last summer, but have been working on making sets for other liturgical seasons. It's really been a blessing to our family!


I thought I'd share some of the prayers we have in our jar. Below are our "Lenten Prayers." There are 40 of them. (As I complete the sets for future seasons I will happily share them, so come back for Easter prayers!) Please feel free to print and use the prayers below. If you want to get fancy, you can even add images to your prayer slips or print them on pretty scrapbook paper (purple would be fitting!):


Lenten Prayer Jar



I've kept the wording and font simple so our littles can easily read and comprehend them. You can use the jar in a couple of different ways: either pull out one prayer per day so the jar is empty by Easter, or you can use more than one a day and just drop them back in to be re-used all throughout Lent. (We've done it both ways!) This year we are planning on using one a day along with our Lenten Prayer Spiral:

(click link above for tutorial, if you want to make a spiral like this)

If you decide to make a jar for your family I'd love to hear about it! Also, if you have any prayer suggestions you'd like to share, please do so! I'd love to keep adding to our jar! :)



If you're looking for more ideas to do this Lent, you can check out the Lenten Link-Up courtesy of Lacy from Catholic Icing. There are a ton of great ideas over there as well as at Catholicmom.com.

Wishing you a truly blessed Lenten season!

Sharing With:

Works for Me Wednesday