>Feasts and family ties

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It’s the Solemnity of St. Joseph!
Now, this is a biggie, St. Joseph is one awesome saint. Only the best would be selected to be the earthly father of Jesus, right? Right! You all know him, I hope, a holy righteous man, given the highest honor imaginable (short of mom….): being dad to Christ.

I love him for that. And I love him for the example he gives us of steadfast love and doing the right thing with compassion and honor and love.

Now, there is one little thing though, that makes me a bit nuts regarding St. Joseph…. It’s not really about St. Joseph, him, the man. Rather, its more about the titles slapped on St. Joseph.
Yeah, you guessed it. It’s an adoption thing.

St. Joseph should be the biggest patron for adoptive families going. It brings me to this nit picky pet peeve of mine: that everyone always has to clarify when they talk about him and his relationship to Jesus.

Holy Family by Raphael

Every single time I read it or hear it: “St. Joseph, foster father of Jesus” or some variant I think, “Sheesh!” Because, really……did they really think of it like that back in the day…those days? Do you think that when the women were standing around yakking and they saw Jesus playing with his pals and heard Mary call for him or Joseph, do you think they asked Jesus “where is your foster father?” NO. They said, “Hey, where’s your dad? Your mom wants him.” Of course they did. Now, I don’t mean to be irreverent…but c’mon.


It’s like where I live now, (maybe it’s everywhere, but I only now notice, so I’m calling it regional…don’t get in a snit, no offense intended, I already said it my personal pet peeve). Here, people commonly say, “That’s my stepsister” or “That’s my stepson” or “Stepmom” or whatever. And it doesn’t matter how long they’ve lived together, it could be forty years and they still have to clarify this, even in a casual social setting (I’m not talking about complicated genealogical papers here or anything that could remotely necessitate such fine tuning). That slays me! Why can’t ya just say, “That’s my sister”? I mean, really, why?

I know. This is a weirdness on my part. But every time I hear them qualify St. Joseph’s relationship to Jesus it kind of gets my back up. It’s the same as when media always have to delineate that the celebrity’s “adopted son” did this or that. It’s his kid. Period! Don’t say my kids are each other’s adoptive sister or brother, and don’t, really don’t, tell Coffeedoc that he is Gabey’s “foster father.”

I guess it’s that same prick I feel when someone asks about their “real mom”, um, me. Or even worse, “Which ones are yours?” um, let me count…yup, all of them! I know what they are getting at and that it is a fumbly thing, especially if they are not in the adoption world, but still. Me. No qualifiers required. This is not to diminish the kids’ first mom, or birth mom, or first family…but really, no qualifiers are necessary once they are in mine. No adoptive, foster, step, ya da yada whatever label is needed. They are our kids. Done deal.

Back in the day, St. Joseph’s day, to be exact… family was often built by promise. A special kind of promise, a “covenant” promise. A covenant cannot be broken. It is bigger and stronger than a meager promise or intention, it is stronger than a paper legal contract, it is a covenant, a vow before God. It is eternal. And it was a common manner of forming family. Sure some kids and folks might have just kind of been taken in and eventually been considered a part of the big extended clan. But there were also covenants that built families. And just as God made a covenant with his people, St. Joseph made a covnenant to this baby and to his wife. So he was not just a foster father…..he was his dad, here on earth.

Icon by Brother Claude Lane, O.S.B

Maybe this sets me off because it’s hard to shake off the flimsy postmodern standards and loose contracts that define family nowadays. And so too, too many tv shows of divorce court and meaningless family ties have disintegrated the meaning of the term ‘foster father’…..I can nod to that. And so too, our family ties in our modern era tend to be much more formalized on long legal papers and the term “foster” parent means something different in this usage. And I am no theologian so perhaps the finest points of this description of dear St. Joseph elude me. But, it still bugs me. So, yeah, this is an adoption rant.

Poor St. Joseph, I feel like he doesn’t get a fair shake. He cared for, loved, guarded, protected this little baby, had to flee into Egypt for pete’s sake. He lived a quiet unnoticed life. He didn’t get the kudos for raising this special child, nor was he supposed to, then. But, now, we know him for what he was: a strong, humble, holy man, who obeyed God’s call and made a covenant to be the father to this baby here on earth….a giant step out in faith. St. Joseph was Jesus’ earthly father – his dad. And he is an excellent example and intercessor for adoptive parents and families everywhere.

Happy Feast Day!
Go eat some pasta!
And for some beautiful thoughts on St. Joseph and hope,
go here, to Deacon.

St. Joseph, pray for us!

God our Father,
Creator and Ruler of the universe,
in every age you call man
to develop and use his gifts for the good of others.
With St. Joseph as our example and guide,
help us to do the work you have asked
and come to the rewards you have promised.
We ask this through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,
who lives and reigns with You and the Holy Spirit,
one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
New St. Joseph Weekday Missal

>Kiss me, I’m Irish!

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Yup, it’s the feast of St. Patrick: St. Paddy’s Day.
Which means many things, and here in the U.S. typically means loads of green beer (ok, gross), green shakes, corned beef, soda bread, and general indulgence despite the lenten season. A plethora of shamrocks and leprechauns can be seen and smooching abounds (not that that is so bad!). And suddenly, everyone is just a little bit Irish! Me too! Actually, I can claim it remotely (really remotely) though for many years I thought my maiden name had Scottish origins…but nope, Irish. And I root for my son’s school always: GO IRiSH! So, it’s fun day all around!

As a homeschool mom, if I’m feeling energetic and creative there are loads of history and fun things for St. Patrick’s Day: coloring pages, books, activities, games, and of course, food. There is an abundance of these, plus great books and movies and celtic music to listen to if you’re feeling thematic for the day. Illlustration by Mary Kurnick Maass
But I like the saint’s lives, you know that. And St. Patrick had an amazing life and was a strong and courageous man, who grew in holiness enough to return to the land that originally enslaved him…because he loved the people there. So St. Patrick is not only about eating and drinking oddly colored beverages and snacks, not about wishing for lucky leprechauns. St. Patrick shows us we can beat the odds. St. Patrick is a great example of perseverance and courage and faith, for going where God leads you despite the hardships. To bloom where you are planted even, to carry this out…..maybe you’ll find some shamrocks, after all! Happy St. Patrick’s Day!
St. Patrick, pray for us!

>Mostly Wordless Wednesday

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It’s Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent.
There is much to be said about this day,
but Deacon says it better than I ever could,
here,
and for a roundup of Lenten thoughts on this day,
here.

“Oh, God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” Luke 18:13

>Confession

>image source: SQPN
So, there’s been a lot of talk about confession, different kinds of confession and different ideas and feelings about it. And of course, Lent begins in a mere few days, so…if there ever IS a season for confession…we are there.

And even so, I think that there is a yearning for this practice, no matter your faith tradition, or lack of one. Deacon has an interesting article on the rise and desire for confession, as evidenced by the long lines outside the old fashioned/refurbished confessionals in a New York church.

So I’ve been stewing on whether to write about what I think about confession, or not. There is SO much there and I can’t even begin to do it justice, and I would simply bore you all if I tried because I’d just mumble on. Like now…erk.

So, I’m gonna try to give you my quick, personal gloss on confession, my Catholic take on the Sacrament of Confession. As I mentioned, I think our culture craves this. Now, my use of the term ‘confession’ is quite a different thing from dear Becca’s confession Fridays. She has been doing a post on her Friday confessions each week, and encouraging us all to speak up if we are so inclined, to ‘confess,’ so to speak. Don’t get me wrong, this idea of owning up to our weaknesses and imperfections is hugely important, liberating, and also a relief…..it gives us all the evidence that none of us are supermom out there. And that is a great gift, so don’t stop Becca, you help us all when you put yourself out there!

But when I think of confession, I am meaning the specific Sacrament of Confession, or Penance, or, most accurately (and modern, but not my ‘old dog’ term): the Sacrament of Reconciliation. Because in the Catholic use of the term confession, we are really going to reconcile, with Christ himself. Many of us think, why do I have to go sit with a priest to do that? I can just tell my sins to Jesus in prayer and He will forgive me. Well, yes.

But it is utterly healing to do it with a person, and in the Sacramental nature of Confession, it is Sacramentally healing – meaning actual Grace (capital G grace, divine grace) comes to us through the priest’s absolution and gives us strength to do better and forgives our sins.

It’s a radical thing, don’t you think? Of course, it has to be, it’s biblical:

21Again Jesus said, “Peace be with you! As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.” 22And with that he breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit. 23If you forgive anyone his sins, they are forgiven; if you do not forgive them, they are not forgiven.” John 20:21-23

Now, that’s just breathtaking to me.

I am a cradle Catholic, but a poorly taught one for most of my life, certainly my formative years. And I never knew, I never really knew, the depth and the amazing power of this sacrament. And I avoided it, scandalously, for years and years; my lapsed Catholic years, if you will.

Ever so long ago, I was called out, so to speak, on some of my (gravely) sinful college behavior, by a priest in confession. I was shocked and upset and wanted to be patted on the head and told, it’s ok, you have the best intentions and your heart is in the right place. Well, he pointed out that my heart might be in the right place but my behavior wasn’t and called me on it, called it for what it was: sin. Serious sin. I was, correctly, horrified. However, since I was an ignoramus, truly, I fled from the ‘rigid, archaic” Church rules and regulations and skipped confession for many years. Because I was hurt and upset, angry and finally, kind of terrified. {Just like a kid who’s gotten on the wrong side of their parents, but doesn’t really fully understand why.}

Finally, some long time ago, a kind wonderful young priest said, “Um, that was a tough experience, though he was correct. But, you need to trust again.” Oh. My. I am really bad at that whole trust thing. I don’t do that well at all. But he was right. So I worked on learning more, about the church and confession, the Sacrament of Reconciliation. And so, with heart racing and feeling like I might get sick, I tried again. I went to confession. For real.

And it was electric.

I mean, I had, for all those years, prayed and never left my faith (I thought). I apologized in my prayers for my failings and my sins. But when I actually returned to the Sacrament of reconciliation…well, I finally felt it, I felt, um, reconciled. Doh. But it felt like the world made real sense again, better and truer, more hopeful.

I kept, and keep, screwing up. My life is like a briar patch, and I get caught on my own thorns and snags every single darn day. But now, I have this sacrament to help me out. And it does, unspeakably so.

It’s like that itchy, uncomfortable, out of sorts kind of feeling that you have when you’ve been fussing with someone, or when you said the kind of wrong thing or something was taken the wrong way. It kind of stays with you and makes you have that very low, underlying out of kilter feeling…until you make it up with that person and/or sort things back out with them. That’s confession. It’s a reconciliation, after all. But with the most important person of all.

I went to confession this morning. And I had to kind of drag myself there. I knew I needed it, it had been a few weeks since my last confession. And I was getting over a week of sick in the house and a killer migraine last night, so had a “migraine hangover.” I was not feeling too great, exhausted and ridiculously irritable. But I did make it to church. And when I got there who did I see arriving but our own dear Bishop! Bishop Choby. Special, unscheduled surprise visit!I love this man. He is my spiritual Father. He used to be our pastor and is now our Bishop and he is a holy man, period. He is utterly kind and good. I almost cried, just saying hello to him, I was just SO happy to see him! (Yes, I’m a doofus like that, but I haven’t seen him in a while). And so I made my confession. And he gave me absolution and my penance. And then I did cry, as I sat in the pew to pray, I couldn’t help it. Not because it was horrible and I was still scared, but out of love and sheer gratitude for the beauty of this Sacrament.

Because this is what it comes down to, for me. If I am SO glad to see this man, my spiritual Father, my Bishop, how electrified and lit up with jubilation will I be when I get the chance to stand before Jesus himself, God, my heavenly Father? OH, I can’t imagine, but I know that this is but a shadowy glimmer of the real thing.

And that’s the Sacrament of Confession, for me.
It’s often electric.
But not always.
But it’s always strengthening, and comforting.
It brings me back to the person, after I stepped away in my selfishness.
It’s a reconciling.
It heals.

Here are a couple of books that are great:
A pocket guide to Confession

Pardon and Peace
So, erk, I did it again. A long ramble. You know I can’t help it. And that’s a Becca confession: “my blog posts are long and rambly and boring”…but it’s Saturday and not Friday…so I’ll have to add it to hers next week!

But, I love confession. I went from being terrified of it, to finally knowing the great peace and real strength and comfort it gives.

It’s worth a try. It is, literally, out of this world.

>Sunday Snippets

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Il Papa! Or, in my current effort: Abbat!!!
The Pope is going to Africa!

Well, ya just gotta love that! We are too (I hope)! Here is the lowdown:
In this morning’s dispatches, the Holy See rolled out the Pope’s program for his March visit to Cameroon and Angola — a seven day pilgrimage that’ll mark B16’s first journey to Africa.
Go to the excellent Whispers in the Loggia for the full article (h/t to this site).

Next snip: Of course, it’s Sunday, so Deacon’s got me thinking…here’s a snip:
“This week’s gospel tells us about Christ’s power over unclean spirits. They come in many shapes and forms – including, I think, the kind that took hold of Paul Wilkes.

They can overwhelm any of us, if we aren’t careful. They can come as jealousy, or self-indulgence, or arrogance, or neediness. They can make us spiritually bankrupt.
They are part of our broken, imperfect, wounded humanity.
And, as he did in the temple, Christ calls out to them – firmly, persistently, patiently.
Quiet, he says.
Come out. How can we not listen to that voice, that stirring in our hearts?

Boy this practically shouts to me. Because that’s what I need. Those words: “Quiet. Come out.” Come out of my instant selfish reactionary ways, my snap, my indulgence. Come out. Quiet.
There is a line in one of my favorite prayers: Anima Christi, that goes “keep me from the malicious enemy” and I think often that while in the night when I wake up from another nightmare I might think of the movie version of a malicious enemy (the devil himself), ever so much more often that very enemy is my own self. Me. My selfish little self-absorbed self. My own personal malicious enemy to the growth of my heart. ack. So this homily hit home for me today. Good stuff.
Go, read. It’s good and worth a slow Sunday thought or two.

Lastly, this is what I have to go do now: study. Working my way, at a glacial pace, through this text:

That and tutoring with Wayzaro Loula on Mondays, and working through TalkNow’s Amharic cd on the computer. You’d think I’d be chatting it up by now, wouldn’t ya?? Well, you’d be wrong. I can barely say hello. Sigh. So, back to work for me, no more procrastinating. Happy Sunday! dahna hun!

>On this day…

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My son, Buddybug, is here.
Washington, D.C.
He is at the annual March for Life with a group from his university.

These are some pics from last year.
Most years Coffeedoc takes a few kids along with him, ours and a few extras. This year he couldn’t get there. But we are there in spirit.
I try not to get too political on this blog.
But it is surely no surprise to anyone that our family, I, we, are pro-life.
We are Catholic.
The Catholic Church has made it’s position on the spectrum of life issues very clear, very simple: All life is sacred. Period. Beginning to end. No matter what, where, who.
Simple.

And before you get started….I am quite clear on all the facets of this issue, and have worked through different things and thoughts about it all over the years. But finally and fully, as a Catholic who has discovered the deep beauty and richness in the faith, I realized it IS simple. And for me, though I spent years having long and important discussions on all the angles of this and these issues, finally it hit home in the most visceral way possible.

Here:
This is why I am pro-life.
Look, really look, at these faces.
How can I not be?

And while the actual March for Life happens today, the more, the most, important event (some might argue this point, but I would disagree) happened last night: the annual Vigil and Mass for Life. In the packed Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception, with Bishops and religious and just regular folks from all over (thousands upon thousands), all jam packed in to pray. They wait for hours (often 4-6) before the Mass even begins, just to make sure they have a spot. They pray, they talk and then, they pray in community: the Mass. Here’s a snip from last year. Our Lady of Guadalupe, protector of the unborn, pray for us.
http://www.youtube.com/get_player

>All Souls Day

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Today is All Soul’s Day.

This is the day we remember the other souls who have gone before us.
Yesterday we remembered the saints, those who have lived lives of holiness (sanctus) and give us examples of the many ways to grow into the people, the saints, we are made to be.

Today we remember all those who have died and need our prayers. Yes, this is where the Catholic doctrine makes many nuts again, where the rubber meets the road. Yes, we are talking about purgatory. First let me say that there are many who explain this and speak about it so eloquently and clearly, like Deacon Greg. I am not one of those people, so please go read some of them for a clearer understanding. {Catholic Catechism: 1030-1032}

However, I find this idea of purgatory so comforting; not weird or wacky, but a great sensible, sigh of relief.

I think it might have been Rosalind Moss or Father Groeschel who put it best, in my mind. They likened purgatory to a foyer, or (as in my house) a mud room. You can’t enter heaven, the Beatific Vision, without being utterly pure and holy.

Only the pure can enter heaven. And at the moment of death, we leave this world, simply human, often unprepared. Being human, even those of us with the best of hearts and intentions are always prone to concupiscence. We are inclined toward sin, by our nature. So we might have a few unkind thoughts or actions or hurtful acts still marking us, so to speak. You simply can’t be in the presence of the utter holiness of God himself without being utterly pure, as He is.

Thus: purgatory. A sort of ‘mud room’ where those last bits can be purified in order to stand before God Himself and bask and praise in that Beatific Vision. There is talk of the suffering in purgatory. The pain is from this separation; from being admitted to heaven, the foyer, and knowing that Christ, God Himself, awaits with unspeakable love and joy unlike any of our ability to know or understand, here.

There are three states after death: heaven, purgatory, hell. Purgatory is not a “maybe” or “could go either way.” You’re in. You’re just taking off your muddy boots and straightening your tie, to look and be your best – the most YOU, that you have been made to be – in order to go and join the saints with Christ forever. To be in His Father’s house, for eternity.

So yeah, for me, I know I need a mudroom. I am so grateful for a mudroom! I am nowhere near pure or holy enough to be able to just go hang with God. Even Moses hid behind a bush, trembling in fear and awe at the visible glory of God. And I pray I can exchange my muddy boots there, and I will ask all I know to pray for me so I can do it quickly once I’ve passed from this earth.

And so, we pray for all the souls in the mudroom, in purgatory. They can’t pray for themselves, though they can pray for us too. And ever so, the system still works best when we watch out for each other.

So today, pray for your loved ones who’ve passed. Pray for those who have died who have no one to pray for them. All the souls in heaven, pray for us too. It’s a comfort we can give each other.

Eternal rest grant to them, O Lord,
and let perpetual light shine upon them.
May the souls of the faithful departed,
through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.

>Feast Day: All Saints Day!

>http://godtube.com/flvplayer.swf

It’s All Saints Day today!

And while I might be calling on all the saints to intercede for me to save my computer…then again, I might not because I’m not sure that would be right. Tempting, yes. But I really don’t want to be a pest.

However, this is a fun happy feast day, a solemnity and one of the biggies historically in the Church. We just got back from Mass as it’s officially a Holy Day of Obligation (though Mass hardly feels like an obligation, but rather a gift).

Today is the day the Church celebrates and honors all the saints in heaven: the big hitters like St. Francis of Assisi, St. Jude, and St. John of the Cross, but also the smaller saints that are less well known like St. Charles Lwanga and the Ugandan Martyrs, or St. Felicity, and the saints in heaven that are not officially recognized or known here on earth. So I’m thinking that is some big party up there and it’s a happy day. Everybody gets a ribbon!

So I do love this day, it’s a cool weekend trio really. You’ve got your Dia de los Muertos (day of the dead of course) on All Hallows Eve (Halloween, of course) and then All Saints Day and tomorrow, All Souls Day. Because we Catholics, we still feel connected to our loved ones once they are gone. Often more so because the physical restraints of our bodies are removed in heaven and thus they can be closer to you in prayer now, than when these loved ones might have been states apart on earth. That gives me great comfort. These are the days to be reminded that the veil between this life here on earth and the next can be awfully thin at times – and we can only marvel and wonder.

So today say thanks for the saints, the holy ones, {“sanctus“}. Because they show us the way, in all their own individual unique lives, how to strive for holiness in our own. So have a chat with your favorite saint or go meet a new one; they are great pals, supports and even cheerleaders for us on our way.

All the saints, pray for us!

>Funky, Fine, or Freaks? Pondering the Large Family

>Fair warning: LONG post.

I have been stewing a bit lately. Maybe it was another migraine, pushing my thoughts outside their normal box. Maybe, but I don’t think so. Maybe it has been the intensive discerning process we’ve been in. Or now, the idea that we have EIGHT children (we just need CIS to verify). Very likely, that.

(This is an older picture, w/ our Korean exchange student/daughter from afar,
but not counting Gabriel or our new daughter to come)

But, clearly, I’ve been thinking, a LOT, about the large family.

Now, we, to some, are a large family. To many of the families I know, we are a smallish large family. Or maybe a largish, medium size family. Or a big small family. By some standards we are a middling family, no big deal. But, by others, the vast majority, we are a Large family. By modern American standards we are a freaky big family!

And I think, isn’t that odd?
And isn’t that kind of sad?

But then again, I have to think about that a lot. Because my kids have to grow up in this family. And some people have written about how hard and bad it is for kids to have to grow up in a large family; what a disservice it does to the kids. Hmmm.

Obviously, I have a bias.

I like to think that a large family, or a largish medium size family, or even a crazy big family is on the whole: good for the kids. Kim at Starry Sky Ranch is thinking about this, living it, as well. Worth a read that.

But too often, in our modern or postmodern culture, the large family is considered not only not so good, but detrimental. Huh? Because in the modern ethos, if you are filling all the bedrooms and then some in your house then surely you are shortchanging your kids, right? They must not have all the “things” they need materially. Because modern kids are not only entitled to their own room and an education but the newest backpacks and electronics and flat screen tv’s….really? Ok, I’m not saying everybody holds to this, but oddly enough, I get asked about this sort of thing. And of course, you might guess, I disagree. Kids are not entitled to such, to our excess consumerism, nor is it best for them (and we are all too guilty, all too often, mea culpa). But this is another post topic, really…the idea of how much and of what? Kids need a certain financial stability to thrive and certainly the adoption process ensures that. But it is a much wider swath than some I meet presume.

But to take it further, people wonder, and (to my waning shock) ask outright, if we are being “good stewards” of our resources. We have been questioned, point blank, on whether we have all our kids’ college funds funded (more than once). And you know, thankfully, so far, God has provided and no we don’t have every child’s entire education funded. We are figuring that we will figure it out and we will find a way to be sure that all our children get the education they want and need. It is a priority, but not a panicked stash. This is our personal decision (so don’t flame me, I get it when you decide otherwise).

So really, it begs the question: good stewardship, how is it applied to kids and a big family? Well, I think it’s simple. The best investment, ever and always, is in the life of a child. Period. That may be easy to say, but if we can make it work, we are gonna and so we figure we can raise one more, again. It might not be easy, it’s an expensive process and prospect. But, we, in faith, figure we will figure it out as we go.

But as for stewardship and the good of the kids, there is a much bigger picture to go with…..again, the fingers get pointed at the bigger family. Because you can’t possibly be a good steward of your other resources if you have so many kids can you? Can you really give those kids all the attention they need? Really? The love, the time? Can you really focus on their needs, their individual quirks and nurture them fully?
Yes, you can.
Is it hard and challenging at times?
Um, yeah.
Is it noisy and messy and chaotic?
Oh boy, yup, it is that!

But here’s the secret that people forget. They must forget because surely they know, if they pause to consider. One of the best, the very best, reasons to have a large family is: siblings. Yeah, the rivalry thing is real and can be maddening and intense. But siblings are simply the greatest gift you can give a child, any child. Even kids who have special needs, and might need more of your attention and resources (financial or otherwise); their best gift from you is a sib. Because only a sibling will always be there for them. Siblings are the only people who will have a relationship that spans the lifetime – even if it gets broken. There is still something there. And more siblings aren’t a drain, it’s a literal expansion: of fun, silliness, madness, emotions, opportunities, support, touch, love. They may not always be happy about it, and some sibs will be closer than others. But no one else will make you fall off your chair laughing til you cry when you’re grown. I remind my boys when they fuss that no one else will be able to make fun of me, after I am dead, like his brother. OK, or even now as I am quite alive. Love ’em or hate ’em, there is nobody like a sib. Ever.
And then we come to the one that makes me feel quite the curmudgeon:
“what about you?”
“How can you, as a mom, as an adult woman, feel fulfilled and challenged when you are tied to a house full of kids?”
What about “me time”?
People have asked me this in opposition to our latest adoption.
And you know, here’s my answer:
I do not live under a rock, I am aware of this concept, I see the magazines. And yes I do get tired and burnt out too sometimes. However, I am the most selfish person I have ever met and I must say I have a remarkable knack for carving out ME time.
But my “me” time may not be yours.
And it is a huge mistake to judge how much or of what type is claimed.
And in our culture, there is such an emphasis on self that it has gotten skewed. The best sort of “me” time I can really give, is to my kid (one or all). Not that I always remember that point, or do it. But the times I DO remember and value and that restore, are the ones that are those good quiet parent moments: laying down with a cuddled up small one for a rare quiet moment or two, the discussion (happy, funny, sad, intense) where you make those connections, the sideways look of understanding each other in a crowd (even if that crowd is your own kitchen). Don’t get me wrong, I love having a hot bath, I took the time to run far slow runs, I love a good book. But. When someone, friend, family, or stranger, tells me that we shouldn’t have another child, love another, because it will cut into “my” time (and they have, more than once)…then I’m thinking, um, something is wacked.

And I guess that’s where I’m at. I’m a bit dismayed over the flip. The cultural flip. It’s wonky. We are the stranger now. Our family. We have gone off the grid. We are freaks. We don’t fit, anymore. Because we have been deemed freaky. We are, weirdly, “other.” We feel freaky, really.

But here’s my take on it: it’s not politically correct, but I think our culture is freaky. Our society, in postmodern America (ok it’s even beyond, look at Europe) is the freaky thing. It’s wacked. The family, no matter the size, is under attack and when you are obviously centering your life around the family instead of the golden calf of “self”…well, you are labeled as a freak or crank or a pompous poof….or well, the list could go on and on.

If you are “lucky” people will presume you are ‘strong” or “good”…but even that is not so. Nice to hear, if embarrassing. Because, in actuality I am (we are) selfish, again. Because loving this family is everything to me. These kids, this life, this family, even as it grows…..is the biggest challenge, hardest, most exhilarating, most exhausting, most worthwhile thing I can begin to imagine.So, tell Gabriel that we are a freaky funky family, right after you pry him out of his big brother’s arms. Try it. I think he would disagree….

>Reminder: Month of Rosary

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Photo thanks to Godzdogz

Just in the nick o’ time.
A reminder that it is still the month of the rosary.
Go to the ever great Godzdogz and read. Each member of the team is posting a bit on the rosary, and what it means to them. All good!

Here’s a snip:

I close my eyes and I reach for the beads. I squeeze the sharp edges of the Crucifix in the palm of my hands, as I try to remember once again what that means for me. The love that was poured out on that day was for me, and that love fills me. I kiss that symbol, I unite myself to that love, and I begin my journey with the Sign of the Cross.

This is a reminder to me as well. Too often, I let this practice fall away in the hustle and bustle (and my personal laziness) of life. But, it is a prayer that is a comfort each and every time, even the distracted ones. It is a prayer that transforms. These bits by the ever cool and thoughtful guys over at Godzdogz are worth reading, to remember and inspire.

Go read, pray.

>Feast Day: Our Lady of the Rosary

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Madonna of the Rosary, by Lorenzo Lotto 1539

Today is the feast of Our Lady of the Rosary.

Yup, another Catholic feast day. But this one devoted to our Blessed Mother and a particular and wonderful Catholic devotion and prayer: the rosary.

{I know, more Catholic stuff, I warned you: ’tis the season! And if you are thinking “hey I thought this was an Ethiopian adoption blog! What gives?” Well, it is, but read the header, it’s also about life in this family as a mom of a pile of kids, which means, Catholic, food, family, adoption, travel, Ethiopia, kids, whining, venting, opinions, links, drivel, and cool stuff…..the whole package.}

Now, the rosary can be a really confusing devotion and set of prayers, especially if you’re not Catholic or if you’ve not practiced it. It takes time to learn. It seems all complicated but it’s not.

Basically, it is a serious of meditations on the life of Christ. Yes, you’re saying “Ave Maria’s” (or the “Hail Mary” prayer) for much of it, but at the same time you are saying those words of the prayer you are invited into meditation on a ‘mystery’ of the rosary, or a particular scene or even in Christ’s life. If you make through an entire full rosary, all twenty decades, you have pretty much just walked through the gospel in your mind. How cool is that?

Now, I have to admit, my praying of the rosary is erratic. I get busy, I get tired, I get lazy. Too much so to make myself stop and take the 20 minutes it takes to pray the rosary. Sheesh. But, I love the rosary. I love the prayers, the calm that comes with praying it, the storytelling aspect of it, the results, the feel, the sound – all of it. But, as with anything regular, there is a discipline to doing it daily or regularly. And I’m not always so great at steady discipline (check out my utter lack of running of late: talk about NO discipline!). But all I can say is that when I do pray the rosary regularly and often, I see benefits. I see our family doing better, I feel myself calmer and more capable of coping with the harried life we live, the mundane irritations and feel my teeny weeny well of patience be a slight bit fuller.

The rosary is not mindless babble; it is often accused of this. Now, to someone who doesn’t understand the fullness of the rosary or what it really is or how it’s done, it could seem so. At it’s worst, it is a distracted attempt at turning our mind to Christ, through His mother and her pointing out scenes from His life. And heck, that’s not so bad: A- for even trying, right? At it’s best, it can be a transcendent prayer. It can not only change our hearts, I really believe it can change others and the world, just a bit. But every bit counts.

So, don’t short change this prayer. And of course, NEVER short change or underestimate our Blessed Mother. If she gave this prayer to the world and hears it, and I believe she does…well, great things can happen. I’ve seen them and so have many others. It’s an oldie but one of the very best prayers and devotions. It’s not a requirement as a Catholic, you don’t have to do this. But, oh, always, I am glad I did!

Happy Feast Day!
Our Lady of the Rosary, pray for us!

>Marathon news

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photo from London Telegraph

Pope Benedict XVI has begun a marathon.

Our Pope -and many others, Catholic, Russian Orthodox, Protestant and Jew- is reading the entire bible in a seven day span. It is a marathon week. It is going out over the television and airwaves, across Italy and ultimately, to the world.

And for anyone who thinks that this is a mere trivial exercise, take a look at these pics and be reminded of the world presence this Pope has. These are from World Youth Day in Cologne, a few years back. Coffeedoc took Buddybug and Booboo and it was packed, over a million youth from around the world.

Now you’re talking multicultural!

The Anchoress has a good bit of the timely balm of these words. Like her, I don’t think it’s just a coincidence of timing. I think our Holy Father is a wise man and knows how to bring out the big guns.

This marathon reading then is transformed into a seven day prayer, participated in and shared by countless, throughout the world, just when we need it most. It’s a nervous time, worldwide. And instead of being worried about hitting rock bottom, we can remember to touch the foundation, the rock and stand back up again.

>Feast Day: St. Francis of Assisi

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St. Francis, by Bartolomé Esteban Murillo

Today is the Feast of St. Francis of Assisi.

St. Francis is arguably one of the most popular saints, regardless of your precise religious affiliation. He is the saint depicted with the birds and flowers, too often dumbed down to the birdbath saint with the dripping seventies hymn. For a quick decent bit on him, (disregarding the standard flowery image) go here. For more thorough info, go here. For one of the more worthwhile (and readable) reads on him, read this book.

I confess, for a long time I had a hard time thinking closely about St. Francis. Too much of the blessing birds, embroidered prayer samplers sort of thing, I guess. Nice, yeah, but not my thing. Then I read Kazantzakis and I realized that there is much more to this saint than I was giving him credit for. So, my view of this saint changed.

St. Francis was a radical. No wonder he has captured the imagination of so many for so long! He was raised in a family of wealth and after being quite the typical pampered party-hardy rich boy, he had a conversion experience and then found the courage to reject that life, entirely. He called for a radical conversion of heart and therefore of living. He did rejoice in the nature and wildlife, yes, but as a way of praising God’s creations rather than a sentimental sweet pause. He was called a fool after all this. But Francis called the comfortably entrenched on their hollow lives and challenged them, sometimes castigated them, to do better.

I think the reason he still captures our imagination, and that the Fransiscan Order is still so strong is that he was really a radical. (And some of our favorite priests and brothers are Franciscans!) And it is only the truly radical that can really capture our imagination and seize our stony hearts.

That’s what St. Francis does for us (ok, me), he offers us an example of radical courage. That often comes with hardship but the joy that he showed us can come alongside that very hardship is so, well, exciting that it pulls us all out of our complacent ease and whispers to our truest selves.

That is the continued allure and appeal of St. Francis. It’s not the sentimental conversations with the birds – those are great stories and my kids love them too – but it’s the challenge. Really, our hearts are always wanting a challenge I think. It’s programmed into our nature. St. Francis calls to that. He celebrated and was enthralled with the nature that God made, it overwhelmed him (“brother sun, sister moon”). But it is his ongoing call and challenge to our nature that makes him still such a compelling saint and such an ongoing fascination. It’s what makes those cool Franciscan Friars of the Renewal so compelling: the joy and the radical lives.

So let loose your inner radical today and celebrate the feast of St. Francis!
St. Francis of Assisi, pray for us!

>Feast Day: Feast of our Guardian Angels

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Guardian Angel Icon by Ikonart.com

It’s another Feast day! I love Autumn!

Today is the Feast of the Guardian Angels.
For good solid stuff on the Guardian Angels, go here and here.

I hesitated to blog about this today, because this is one of those Catholic beliefs that can be misconstrued, and has. There has been a fad in the popular culture about angels and it has devolved too often into the kitschy ‘Hallmark’ cherub kind of angel, complete with squishy feelings and trite sentiment (not to sound too much like a curmudgeon, but I think you know what I mean). Or angels are shown as the kind of nauseating gauzy filmy pastel drawing of a blond angel in billowing robes and flowers. On the flip side however, if you do a google search on angels, specifically, Guardian Angels…well, it can get kind of creepy! I mean, like, you are walking the edge of the dark side. No kidding. When folks start talking about ‘channeling’ angels and having conversations with them and learning their names and so on…I say, run, run fast! That is just too borderline for me.

Permit me a short rant on this: I do believe a tiny handful of us have actually known and/or spoken with angels, (specifically: Mary, Abraham, Tobit (though, unaware)). However, I think that most of those who say they do, or have, might well be either psychotic or actually have spoken with angels, or spirits, but the wrong kind. Now you are probably writing me off as a nut case. But, stay with me.

We are taught that angels are true and real. We are also taught that there are angels of God and angels who chose against God. God’s angels can and do work in this world, but usually in the background and/or through our own conscience and the people around us. I think only those who have elevated to pretty lofty heights of holiness ever are given the grace of meeting an angel and knowing it. Mary was sinless, for Pete’s sake! Deigned to be chosen as Mother of God! She was holy enough to have an angel greet her with “Hail, Mary, full of grace.” Even then, she must have been frightened and flipped out. But, I know, that I hope to never meet with an angel in a concrete, physically discernible way. I am simply not holy enough and thus it would be maybe a temptation from the wrong team, so to type; not to mention it would scare me into a gibbering idiot. {I know, you’re thinking “already there.”} Rant over.

So, after all that, what’s up with Guardian Angels?
And do I believe in those?
You betcha!

Guardian Angels are such a fantastic gift from God himself. Talk about a Creator who thought of everything! Even someone to be with us our entire lives, who knows us better than anyone else, and is there for the express purpose of our best good. Not, and this is important, our greatest want/desire, but for our greatest good. Not to mention, who are smarter than us by leaps and bounds. Whew. What a relief! We need this so much. I do. And they are so polite about it too, nudging here, pestering there, saving when needed. I can point to a few times when I am absolutely sure that but for the intervention of my Guardian Angel, I would be dead or in dire straights. Most recently, on 65S, saved from a collision beside me before I even knew it and my adrenaline shot sky high. Thank you.

[So, now I have surely lost any reader I might have had left. But well, the little boys and myself are all sick with a muzzy thick head cold. So maybe I’m ranting a bit. But still, the thoughts are there and mine on this day and this subject.]

Thank you Guardian Angels! For watching over me and saving me from harm of all stripes, most usually myself. For watching over my children when they are near and especially when they are far from me. It’s a comfort. The best friends a gal can have, in so many ways…and ones so very taken for granted. So today, phone a friend, in honor of our best friends, the Guardian Angels.

Painting by Roxanne

>Feast Day: St. Theresa of the Child Jesus aka St. Therese of Lisieux

>So, today is the feast day of St. Therese of Lisieux!

The novena finishes today and it’s been a nice quiet start, often early in the morning, to my days. Thinking about her and her ‘little way’ is a nice reminder to me as I prep to start the typically hectic days around here. The Deacon’s Bench speaks well about her and the constant call to conversion, here. And that is one of the important things for me about this saint: her constant reminder to struggle against our own self-ish selves. Mine. Me. That really, it’s NOT about me at all. It’s about everyone else.

From Deacon:
“Conversion isn’t a one-time event. It isn’t a moment. It is thousands of moments. It is a lifetime of moments.”
snip.
“Loving, and growing in love, is part of our lives as Catholic Christians – part of our own ongoing conversion in each. The effort is unceasing. “

Happily, I’ve been pestering her for prayers for another (ok a few) in this novena and I am sure she is praying for them too. And that is such a comfort to me and hopefully to those others who know they are specifically in this novena too.

Years ago at the National Shrine of St. Therese, near ChicagoSo today is her feast day, and I will remember her with her flower: roses. Happy Feast Day!

>Feast Day: St. Jerome

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St. Jerome, by Peter Paul Rubens

It’s the Feast of St. Jerome today.

And I don’t want to blast you all with endless saint feast days, but then again, why not? Because, well, we Catholics, we love a feast and any reason to feast! {maybe that’s just me…my wardrobe is saying, um, yeah!} Kidding, mostly….

Truly, I DO love the whole liturgical year deal. I know I’ve said it before on this blog, but it bears repeating: it just gives such a richness and texture to our year. Days of feast and fasting, seasons of expectation and celebration, and yes, days of mourning as well (lent and Easter week can be tough). But yeah, it does make my days a little richer, have a little more meaning, when I think about the saint of the day and if they have a special connection to me or my family or friends – or if they set an example worth considering (and gee whiz, they are saints, they do!).

So today is the feast of St. Jerome and he is the patron of a dear friend’s son, so a friend of ours. Happy feast day Joe!

To read more about him go here and here. And he is worth knowing a bit about, as St. Jerome was the one who translated the bible from the Hebrew into the common language of the time: Latin. Hence his translation is known as the Latin Vulgate (“vulgar” meaning common). So, clearly we are all in some debt here. He’s an important saint to know, and he is also in fact a Doctor of the Church.

St. Jerome, by Fra Filippo Lippi

I like thinking about St. Jerome because here he is, a ‘big hitter’, and yet, he is also historically known to be a cranky guy. He was known for his bad temper and stories of it abound.

And for me, on a day with little sleep (ok for many days now), up at 4:30 to give a breathing treatment to Little Man after listening to him bark cough and wheeze, that gives me comfort.
Even we cranks have the potential to grow into saints. It gives me hope.

Plus, on a personal aside (I know, the whole thing is a personal aside) I am thinking about asking for his prayers in assisting me in learning Amharic. I am dreadful at languages and I will need “the gift of tongues”, so to speak, to learn this language in preparation for our next daughter to come home!

St. Jerome, pray for us!

>Feast Day: The Archangels: Michael, Gabriel, Raphael

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It’s another Feast Day!
It’s the Feast of the Archangels: Michael, Gabriel, Raphael.

Now, yeah, this is yet another Catholic Feast. Brace yourself, we are coming into the calendar season just chock full of Feasts. No wonder I love this time of year, full of special days, feasts, memorials, birthdays…all running right up to the very special season of Advent. (But that is for another post, in the future). Today, this Feast of the Archangels: I love this feast and I love the archangels as well. How can you not? They are always involved in the best of the stories and events from the bible. They are God’s own top notch messengers, the A-team, if you will.

St. Michael is a fantastic comfort, he is the protector and guardian for us and prince of the messengers. He is the ultimate warrior for Christ. It he who I call on for extra protection when we are frightened, waking from dreams that disturb, or to comfort one of my kids, or heck, even me when I get scared or nervous. St. Raphael, he is a the one to call on for safe travel, he who traveled with Tobias, both as companion and messenger there too. And of course, St. Gabriel. Obviously, we have a special spot in our hearts for this messenger of God’s will. He was the most special chosen messenger to our Blessed Mother of the divine news of her son, Christ: the Annunciation, the one who got to hear her “fiat.” He was the patron of our own message of God’s will: our own Gabriel Tariku, who now brings the message of God’s love to us, every day.

St. Gabriel Monastery, Ethiopia
This is why we love these Archangels. They do God’s work, always. They are faithful caretakers of us and messengers to us and they bring us the most exciting and comforting message of all, always and ever: of God’s love for us. What’s not to like? So today, we will celebrate their feast and our Gabriel’s patron feast day too!Happy Feast Day!

>Feast Day: Saints Cosmas and Damian

>It’s the Feast Day of Saints Cosmas and Damian, patron of physicians.

And so, of course, a Feast day for our own Coffeedoc!

These two twin brothers were physicians, born in Arabia and known for their great faith and healing. They never accepted payment for their services and instead healed because it was their gift and skill and a desire to live a life of charity. This mindset and behavior, even way back then, wouldn’t go unnoticed and they came to the attention of Diocletian. They were martryed under his persecutions of Christians. They had a holy mother who taught them their Christian faith and set them on their paths. Here is another place to read about them as well.

And so, these two twins are great patrons for physicians (and pharmacists), an example of living a life in the pursuit of caritas and comfort of others. Our Coffeedoc counts them as his patrons, and rightly so. They have been faithful intercessors and so today, we celebrate their saintly example to us all.

Happy Feast Day, Coffeedoc!
Saints Cosmas and Damian, pray for us!

>Java Jive

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This is JUST what I needed to start my day, today.
Made me laugh. Perfect for the Catholic Coffeemom that I am.
Thanks Buddybug! You know me so well.
Go here to the Shrine of the Holy Whapping, for a fun read.

>Novena: St. Therese of Lisieux: Starts Today!

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Today is the start of the novena to St. Therese of Lisieux!
Go here for the novena prayers.

St. Therese is a favorite saint around here. She has been an intercessor for us over the years and she is a faithful pray-er if asked for her help. She is known as being a patron saint of missions, among other things. However, she never went on a mission, though she deeply desired to.

St. Therese is known as “the Little Flower.” She died young, of TB (a grizzly painful death), and she led a humble hidden life. Her sisters in the convent didn’t think so much of her, but she had a burning simple faith; a pure love for Christ in a childlike simple uncomplicated manner. Her writings reveal such truths that she is considered one of the few Doctors of the Church. And while her writings, her autobiography, was written during that Victorian era when the writing was florid and frankly, difficult for modern eyes and sensibilities to digest (ok, me), it has profound deep truths in it. The biographies of her are better (see Gaucher), IMHO.

I love this saint. I love her because she was simple, because people totally underestimated her, and because she really strived to lead a more faithful life even though it was a struggle. I love her because she is honest in her writings both about the depth of her love but also for the challenges of her struggles in being charitable and kind sometimes.

“I’m certain of this – that if my conscience were burdened with all the sins it’s possible to commit, I would still go and throw myself into our Lord’s arms, my heart all broken up with contrition; I know what tenderness He has for any prodigal child of His that comes back to Him.”

I love her because her story comforts me in my measly efforts and tells me we don’t have to all be amazing heroic saints here, but if we love, truly and simply and keep trying, that counts for everything. I need that.

“You know well enough that Our Lord does not look so much at the greatness of our actions, nor even at their difficulty, but at the love at which we do them.”

“For me, prayer is an aspiration of the heart, it is a simple glance directed to Heaven, it is a cry of gratitude and love in the midst of trial as well as joy. Finally, it is something great and supernatural, which expands my soul and unites me to Jesus.”

I am going to start this novena tonight. I have prayed other novenas to her over the years and, as with all novenas, the prayer itself transforms. The remembering to pray and intention itself helps transform our hearts and souls, as of course do the prayers. I need that. This novena will be for this next adoption we are in. For a small miracle with CIS to amend our approval swiftly, and thus get our paperwork there so this girl can come home. She too, is little and hidden, like St. Therese. So I think St. Therese, who was a young girl, little, overlooked, but with a huge heart for reaching out to the world….just might intercede and pray for this other little one, half a world away.

St. Therese of Lisieux, pray for us!

>The big stuff: Go figure

>This is a painting Coffeedoc brought back from Haiti. It is a favorite of ours and the photo doesn’t do it justice. But it brings up stuff we’ve been talking alot about lately.

What do you do about the hard stuff? The big stuff? How do you reconcile the whole concept of suffering? How do you endure it and not succumb to it, meaninglessly? How do you not just wither into it and wallow in your pity party (ok, me)? How do you factor it into a life: suffering, joy and all the in-between?

We have had a year of the highest highs and lowest lows: bringing home new child, our toddler, from Ethiopia and losing a beloved Grandma, Coffeedoc’s mom. And all around us too, we find friends and family in different variants of hard and happy….just like the rest of the world. And I think it’s human nature to want to make sense of it all, as best we can.
And we talk around and around this. And pray through it, for it, about it…..it seems that there is not that much we can figure out except this: Suffering comes in many forms and it’s hard. It hurts! It can be pervasive or precise, overwhelming or simply pointedly excruciating. Joy too, comes in many forms, also broad or the perfect pinpoint moment.
But they are connected.
They are utterly connected.
This I know. This we are taught in our faith. It is scriptural.
I forget it, just about every darn day. When I am fearful, I am forgetting. When I am controlling and trying to shape every thing that happens, push, pull, heave, ho, I am forgetting. I tend to want to jump over, and protect my loved ones, from any bit of suffering (unless it’s the dishes…). The idea of their suffering is ever much more awful to me than my own, of course.
And that path, it is all about the fear.
And when I talk about suffering, I am almost always, really, talking about fear. I know, you’re thinking I’ve already hit on this, a few posts back already! I know. Bear with me. Because, I am a slow learner and I learn and process by talking and typing. So here we are. Again.
We are taught, and I need to be reminded, again and again and again, that even through suffering, we are transformed, and with that, we are brought into joy. In fact, I can point to some of the greatest suffering we have experienced, personally and as a family, and I can say, that is where we grew into ourselves, our joy. We are taught that our sufferings, especially when we are trying, giving and pouring ourselves out for something beyond us – stretching, that we will be returned good. Shaken, tamped down and overflowing good abundance. But first we have to walk through the fire of a given or accepted suffering. And, well, that is hard. Often “hard” doesn’t even begin to describe what it is.But in faith, I know, that it is all for a greater good. For MY good, even if it is good for anything beyond me as well. But it is so easy for the fear to stymie that. To stop the whole process or accepted effort in it’s tracks. So, I need to be reminded. Again and again and again.
It’s about the JOY, stupid. That’s for me.
That’s where it is. That’s what I forget. That’s what I need to remember to tell folks, to tell myself, to tattoo on my forehead so I won’t forget.

It’s about the Joy. The real stuff. Go figure.Heb.12:1… let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us,[2] looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.

>Feast of Exaltation of the Cross

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Titulus of the Holy Cross,
photo by Coffeedoc, Santa Croce, Rome 2003

It’s the Feast of the Triumph of the Cross!

And another smacking good homily by Father G. I’d say its yet another brick, but its more apropos to say its a beam. Of the Cross. Whacked up side my head.

Because you can’t talk of the Cross, much less of the Divine Contradiction of the Cross, without talking about suffering. And Godzdogz covers this feast day so well. Much more thoroughly and better than I ever could, so go there and read about it! (Because, as usual, this bit is all about me, and us and our doofy little lives and crosses; my stream of consciousness. )

And once again, my life runs smack into the homily. Or the homily runs smack into me. Because carrying the cross can mean even the little ones, right in your face (literally sometimes, like the toddler on my lap with the runny nose…excuse me while I take a “life break/cross lift” and medicate three kiddos for allergies/cold). Jen, at Et Tu, Jen, writes beautifully about this concept. Her blog is always worth a read!

Carrying the Cross, and the exaltation of it, can sometimes mean the dramatic suffering that is the unspeakable, hard, once in a lifetime (hopefully) event. It can also be the constant setting aside of self, and responding to the tasks – even the dreary mundane tasks – set before you. Again, go to Jen for another on this, worth the read. Here is where we find the best examples: the Mother Teresa, the St. Teresa of Avila, the St. Francis de Sales.For me, it’s this that is so difficult. It’s so easy to write it and read it and say, yeah, that’s right! Embrace the Cross, big or small. Carry the little ones you see, every day. You can do it!

But to live it, to actually oh, get up from the computer when I want to blog stalk or type or answer email and go get the milk, answer the question, swap the laundry…its very difficult. To set aside my moody self, especially on a foul mood sort of day (today?) and respond with kindness and patience (again, not one of MY virtues)…well that is a challenge. That is a dying to self that is asked for again and again. Lift that cross, die to me. For a control freak, a proud one, it’s very tough to put ME aside, my wants and ways.

So today was a good brick, erm beam, I mean, Homily for me to hear. I have had a migraine for two days, finally it is fading, almost gone. The kids are starting to get a cold, I see a few snuffly noses starting. And we have been wrestling with some of the more big dramatic sort of choices and bandaging the bumps from the falling bricks.

I guess I needed one more. Today.
But it’s alright. I have my hard hat on. I think I might keep it on my head as a permanent fixture: maybe slap a sticker on it to make it cuter. I’d rather have the bricks clonking onto my head than the perfect coif anyhow.

I’m gonna need it, because as Fr. G pointed out, embracing the Cross is also, all too often, a stepping out into the unknown. A willingness to step out in blind faith, a willingness to keep lifting, even if you drop that Cross. Yikes. But it’s true, we don’t get to pick or design our Crosses (and that just freaks out gals like me) and we often look at things others are going through, their Crosses and think, or say, “Oh man, I could NEVER do that!” Happily, we don’t have to. Our Cross, our sufferings that transform us, are designed perfectly for our own shoulders. Its just so easy to forget that we have such Designer togs to don.

Happily we have feast days, where we get to be reminded of all this. Usually, for me, JUST in the nick o’ time! Today, as it usually goes, it just confirms where we are at now and the effort, the conscious nervous, concerted effort, of opening our arms wide to embrace the cross. Little or big. We want to try. How can we not? So, on this feast day: watch out for falling bricks and beams!

Crossbeam of the Good Thief’s cross,
Santa Croce, Rome, 2003, photo by Coffeedoc

Update: I forgot! A book that I am reminded of on this day: The Sign of the Cross, Recovering the Power of an Ancient Prayer, by Bert Ghezzi. A quick, easy read – all about the sign of the Cross – as a prayer. Very much worth a read. It’s short and easy to zip through but packs a positive punch.

>Happy Birthday Mary!

>It’s the feast of the Nativity of Mary! Happy Birthday Mary!

Today is the day we celebrate and remember the nativity of our Blessed Mother, Mary. The birth of the Theotokos, Mother of God. I know some have questions or issues with this whole concept…but I am all about loving our Blessed Mother, and all about celebrating birthdays, so I can run with it! Go to the ever interesting Anchoress for a good read on this feast and why it’s so good to ponder….also here for a quick bit on it as well.

I am so grateful for her and for her birthday that we will celebrate with flowers for her and maybe even a yummy dessert….Because living the liturgical year is fun and cool and gives much needed texture, rhythm, and depth to the warp and woof of our lives.

And here is a lovely prayer for the day: shamelessly nabbed from Deacon’s Bench, but from the Liturgy of the Hours:

Father of Mercy, give your people help and strength from heaven.
The birth of the Virgin Mary’s son
was the dawn of our salvation.
May this celebration of her birthday
bring us closer to lasting peace.
Grant this through Our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,
who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God, forever and ever. Amen.

— the Liturgy of the Hours

Lastly, dear sweet holy Father Luckas promised to offer Mass today, on this feast, for a special intention for us. And for that, and for the intercessory prayers, I am so humbly and deeply grateful. And just in case you want to know HOW much that Mass offering is worth to us, this treasure of a book explains it well.
So, this is a bit rambly…but well, think of your Mother today…your Blessed Mother and maybe say a prayer of thanksgiving for her. Because like all of us moms, she loves us even when we don’t love her nearly well enough back….

>Living in "Calcutta"

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Just what this mom needs during a Sunday funk: a nudge, or maybe a soft slap in the face reminder. From the excellent Deacon’s Bench. Another excellent homily for today. Here’s a bit:

This past week, when a lot of the world was fixated on Sarah Palin’s daughter, and the problem of teen pregnancy, there was news about one baby that didn’t get much attention.

It should have.

The AP reported the story of a little baby named Solomon, an Ethiopian child who was left by his mother at an orphanage there when he was just one year old. The only things his mother left with him were a crucifix and a picture of Jesus. It was, in effect, a death sentence. Because little Solomon had HIV. He was one of about 14-thousand Ethiopian babies born with the virus every year. The health care system has to struggle to care for these infants, with limited resources. But during a visit to Ethiopia, a Wyoming mother named Erin Henderson saw Solomon, and fell in love. She decided to adopt him on the spot. Officials told her they weren’t sure he’d even live through the weekend. But he did. And Erin Henderson brought him home to Wyoming.

And, one more snip, because this part is from one of my very favorite saints: Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta:

This past Friday was the feast day of that nun, Blessed Mother Teresa. When people would show up at her convent in India, wanting to volunteer, she would tell them instead, “Find your own Calcutta.” The fact is: Calcutta is here. It is Forest Hills. It is Long Island. It is in an air-conditioned office with a cubicle. Calcutta may even be found in your own living room. It is anyplace people are in need, desperate for encouragement, or comfort, or hope.
Mother Teresa knew that. “There is a terrible hunger for love,” she said. “We all experience that in our lives – the pain, the loneliness. We must have the courage to recognize it. The poor you may have right in your own family. Find them. Love them.”

But it’s not the sort of love that belongs just to saints. It belongs to all of us, if we choose it.

Go, read, it’s Sunday, just perfect for the day.

>Adoration

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Monstrance courtesy of NYU.edu

Every Friday morning, I have an appointment that is sacred.
By which I mean, I keep it at all costs, schedule around it and don’t miss it unless I have a darn good reason.
By which I mean, somebody is sick, I am sick, or my husband or babysitter can’t be here, or an appointment is SO important that I will miss my standing one, just this once.
By which I mean, if I don’t go my day, my week, gets out of whack a bit and I have to fight myself not to sulk just a touch.

Sacred, by which I mean: it is Sacred time. Holy. Of God, not men.

Every Friday morning, I have a standing slot of adoration.
This is one of those Catholic things. One of those that I used to think was a little bit nuts maybe…
Ok, for some I guess, but I was sure I would never manage it because I was way too busy and really, who can just sit for an hour? Really?

But about, oh six or seven years ago, I agreed to give it a try. One of our local parishes was starting up Perpetual Adoration and needed people to be able to sign up for an hour. A serious commitment, you had to be there if it was your hour.
No, “Oh gee, I forgot.”
No, “You know, I’m just not feeling it today.”
It was a commitment, to Christ himself. Talk about pressure! But I signed up. Coffeedoc and I each took an hour, separate days. You have an adoration partner who also mans your slot, it’s so important to have someone there.

Adoration is based on the Catholic belief of Christ’s real presence in the Eucharist, and the line “can you not stay with me for one hour?” So we do. We go and sit in front of the Blessed Sacrament, Christ himself, exposed in a monstrance, on top of the tabernacle. We pray. We read sometimes, spiritual reading, lectio divina. Sometimes we just sit. We look at Christ and He looks back at us. We keep Him company.

It made me so nervous to start this. I worried about being able to slow down and SIT down for an hour without getting all fidgety and twitchy….worried about being able to slow down the little gerbil mill of my mind and just BE there, quietly and mindfully and prayerfully. Such pressure!

What I found however, was that it is one of the best hours of my week. It is certainly one of the quietest, but it is also one where I can simply be. It is a phenomenal comfort, it is like drinking cold clear water. It is sacred.

When I used to bring Little Man with me – back when he was just Little Babe….it brought home to me a deeper parallel. Little Man/Babe would lie in my arms, and just gaze at me (he was only 3 or 4 months old), and I would gaze back at him.
And that was when I got it.
I didn’t have to come up with the profound words or prayers. I didn’t have to formulate the right way to get my ideas across. I only had to be there, and gaze at God himself. Just look at Him. And He would look back at me.

And that was not only enough, it was everything.

So, today, I had another appointment that was so pressing, so important, that I had to get a sub for adoration (thanks Jeanmarie). And I have been mildly out of sorts all day, partly due to that, as usual.

By which I mean, I was in a mild funk, until I realized something this afternoon. (Remember, I am a slow learner.) As I watched Sbird and little Gabe, just happily and calmly, peacefully, sit together in the big old faded chair in our sunroom….I realized, that I really hadn’t missed adoration at all.

I just had to open my eyes to see it; slow down my gerbil mill mind, stop my endless shark cruise through the house, and gaze on the very presence of God. Not quite the same as in the adoration chapel. But, still. He was right in my sunroom, His love and presence squooshed together grinning at each other in a big old faded chintz chair.
So I sat down, and spent an hour or more, just being there, with them all.

>Keep it Simple: Charity:Water

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Because I am a techno-simpleton, I cannot get this video link to work without totally wonking up my page layout or something weird. So, go to the source to see it. It’s worth the look!

Now, I know, I hope you all are seeing this around the web. But I am a little slow and I just found it. Thanks Lori!

And I don’t do politics, and I don’t usually even do charitable plugs. I think most of us do the most we can and are very able to determine where and how we can contribute, on our own.

But, well, this one is worth it. This one is about the basics. No political agenda. No mixed up, muddied up involvement . Simple. Basics. Rock bottom fundamental human dignity. What every living soul is entitled to. Period.

My son, my Buddybug, was born in September. So, I love this even more. And this year they are in Ethiopia, which of course also holds such a special place in my heart. Go, look, see, donate, open eyes, hearts, wallets.

We all deserve the basics. It really is that simple.

>I love happy endings

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Freed French-Colombian hostage
Ingrid Betancourt hugged Pope Benedict on Monday

I have been following this story over the past few months, and it’s riveting. This is a wonderful, happy ending. It makes me smile, when she talks of hugging the Pope and protocol…somehow, I don’t think he minded. I think I would end up doing the same thing, I do it every time with our dear Bishop. Lastly, the Pope points out that her prayer was the right kind, the kind it’s so easy to forget:

‘He heard you because you knew how to ask. You didn’t ask for a miracle to be
freed yourself, instead you asked to understand what was His will.’

Just a nice read to start to the day. Again, at Deacon’s Bench, go read.

>Bricks

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Photo by frangrit: Flikr

Bricks are falling around here.
For those who know, it surprises us too, yowch.
But this was one of them on Sunday, in addition to the homily at Mass, which pretty much mirrored our dinner conversation the night before. Oof.

I’m off to buy a few hardhats….I’m just saying….

>Feast Day: Saint Augustine

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Image courtesy of Augnet.org

It’s the feast of Saint Augustine!

Yup, his mom’s feast day was yesterday. I think it’s nice to have them together on the calendar, fitting. And yup, yesterday I made mention of a brief bit about him: Doctor of the Church, Bishop of Hippo, born in North Africa, biracial, lived in Italy and Africa. But go to the ever interesting Anchoress, here, or here to read more, in depth.

Here’s the deal with Augustine. He is recognized by so many, not only Catholics, as an intellectual giant. He was brilliant. But the thing about Augustine that is so appealing I think, at least to me, is that he lived a real honest to goodness human life that so many of us can relate to. I mean, he was a total hedonist for a good while, he led a live that was centered in well, him, and what was fun and felt good if you didn’t like it (mom) then, that was too bad but oh well. He thought fairly well of himself, knew he was smart and thus knew better than his old mom and those stodgy fogies.

He was, well, us, me.
Only, finally, realizing the emptiness of such a life, did he bitterly cry out from the depths of his soul to God . And of course God responded. He was just waiting on him.

As St. Augustine said, “Late have I loved thee.” Ah, that’s it. That’s me. Again and again.

And the rest, is, well, history. And we are so lucky, no, not lucky, so graced to have this intelligence and tempered faith be turned in eternal service to the Church. We are all so fortunate to have his writings and prayers to learn from and soak into our hearts and souls.

“You have made us for Yourself, O God.
And our hearts are restless until they rest in Thee.”

>Feast Day: Saint Monica

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This one is for the moms, all of us!

This is St. Monica, and today is her feast day!
She is most well known as mother to St. Augustine, one of the doctors of the church.
And she is a patron of all mothers, everywhere, as well as to wives – for good reason. Read more about her here.

As a mom, who is impatient and worries about her kids, at times losing sleep over them and the whole process of raising them….it helps me to remember her and her steadfast course on behalf of her husband and children, Augustine in particular. Monica was from North Africa, a tribal African woman, married to a Roman soldier. She was married to a difficult man, a nonchristian (who only tolerated her faith) and she prayed for him without ceasing. He experienced a deathbed conversion, surely due to her faithful prayers.

Her eldest boy, Augustine, was a wild and wayward kid. The kind of young man that makes mothers lose sleep and fret and fume. He left home, he was a wild party-er. Disregarding his mother’s typical advice, he met a girl (ok, many, he was quite the man about town), lived with her, got her pregant, fell in with a psuedo religious cult, an intellectual snob…all the top of the charts mom stressers. And so she prayed for her son, got tough on him when she had to, didn’t just let him drop out of her life even when he wished for her to….and she never quit on him. She was faithful. It was not fun or rewarding. She just did it with the grace of hope and faith.

And he ended up not only coming back to a good life, but converting to the church and eventually becoming a Doctor of the Church (meaning one of the few people who’s writings are recognized as foundational teachings – a big wig). So, wayward young man makes good, through no small faithful effort of his mom. Hence she is also the patron saint of patience!

In a way, I suppose in modern times she would be considered a helicopter parent, huh? However, then again, not. She was a mom, and she loved her husband even though he was hard to live with and her son despite his poor choices and she believed in them and her faith enough to persevere in prayer. And that, for me, is a role model – one of the best.

Because, really that is what we do, what we are called to do, what we get tired of doing, but what the whole mom gig is all about. So, she is a saint for moms, everywhere, and for me in particular. So, happy feast day!

St. Monica. Painting by John Nava.
Shamelessly stolen from The Deacon’s Bench.
For a nice prayer and bit on St. Monica, go see.

St. Monica, pray for us!