tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52880121743543745642024-03-13T20:00:40.161-07:00tiny heroic momentsthe mission of ordinary lifekellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12330870507513975314noreply@blogger.comBlogger38125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5288012174354374564.post-43378746450663589962015-07-16T19:29:00.002-07:002015-07-16T19:54:51.472-07:00family sanctity in 12 (incredibly difficult) months<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
If only it could be merely <i>that</i> hard. </div>
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Nevertheless, I'm a creature who does thrive on schedules, routines and a well-ordered planner. I like to organize and designate. I love to craft a vision. </div>
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After a recent blip in family life, I renewed my vision of what kind of adults I'm trying to help my sons and daughters to become. At that point I determined that a much more deliberate and intentional program of character formation was past due. So, I began listing only the MOST IMPORTANT virtues I wished to see my children (and truly, myself) possess. My goal was to eventually pinpoint <i>three</i> essential virtues and target them relentlessly over the coming months. </div>
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As the inspiration began to flow, I altered the plan to absolutely no more than five. But...that was hard too. </div>
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In the end, there *may* have been more than twenty. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(page one of two.....)</td></tr>
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Way too many....even after weeding out some of the rabble. </div>
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So I decided to cheat. By grouping together virtues that seem logically connected (at least in my life) I created some "sister virtues" and some "virtue triplets" and some "virtue families". I thought about the liturgical year and the school year and the seasons, and then I assigned each month a little<i> "virtue egg"</i> full of the specific virtues I'd like to focus on as a family. I started (and will continue) brainstorming for Scripture, quotes & mottos, parables, picture books, real life examples, "some food for thought" - anything that would help give children a clearer understanding of the goal. These, I will use to perpetuate ongoing conversation about the virtues as each month unfolds. We're praying for the Virtue(s) of the Month daily, conversing a little about them during the day, and striving individually and collectively to deepen our possession of the month's target virtue. </div>
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The final schedule looks like this:</div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">January: FAITH, Reverence & Piety</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">February: CHARITY (Love)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">March: HOPE (which ideally leads to interior PEACE)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">April: JOY & Cheerfulness</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> (specifically as the fruits of Contentment, Simplicity & Detachment)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">May: GENTLENESS, KINDNESS; PEACEMAKING</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">June: TRUTH (Honesty and Sincerity)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">July: GENEROSITY and SERVICE</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">August: OBEDIENCE</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">September: PURITY</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">October: FORTITUDE (Courage & Strength); HARD WORK</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">November: SELF-CONTROL; SELF-DENIAL; SELF-DISCIPLINE</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">December: HUMILTY and GRATITUDE</span></div>
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We've kicked off and I'm pleased so far with the implementation of it all. Obviously, no one has achieved sainthood yet, but the standard has been raised and the picture of goodness is being painted with increasingly vivid color. </div>
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After working out the overall framework, I'm still sketching in the details, but the Lord gave me both His blessing on the project AND a real little gift when he placed the following book in my hands on Saturday. It is a teeny, tiny, short little volume about character formation in kids. (There's a companion volume for parents of teenagers, but I have yet to read or need that one.)</div>
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Lastly, I present some photographs that my 5 year old has been taking. (Her subjects are not always cooperative, nor are they always aware she is photographing them....she has no special instruction, equipment, props, etc... These pictures are just the work of a little girl who loves to roam around the house "borrowing" the family point-and-shoot.) Without further ado:</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At first I loved that this joyful moment had been captured,<br />
but now I realize that my face may actually be contorted in pain.</td></tr>
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Not bad for a really little kid. Admittedly, I selected these out of a larger collection of many lesser-quality images, but overall, I think she is doing really well with photography for a five year old. Also, I'm pretty sure even professional photographers only show us the best work from a much larger body of pictures :)</div>
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Yesterday I finally "taught" her how to edit her own images on the computer. When I say "taught" I mean I spent <u>maybe</u> FIVE minutes (grand total) demonstrating how to apply filters, crop, rotate, etc.... before I was called away from her side by the Terrible Trio of little boys. By the time I had wiped all the bottoms and filled all the bellies that were clamoring for my attention, Bernadette had been working for almost an hour on her photos. I thought her work was really stunning for a nearly-illiterate five year old, after five minutes' worth of instruction, working totally solo and making all her own artistic choices. </div>
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It serves for me as a timely reminder of what even the youngest children are capable of, given just a little instruction and the freedom to make some informed choices. </div>
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Imagine the beauty of which her soul is capable. </div>
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<br />kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12330870507513975314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5288012174354374564.post-29171564301192330452015-07-11T08:53:00.000-07:002015-07-12T16:49:49.124-07:00why I am "for" homeschooling (rather than "against" school)Plodding through Weigel's biography of John Paul II, I am struck by the Pope's frequent insistence that decisions (or actions) must never simply be made "against" something negative, but ought to be made "for" something <u>good</u>.<br />
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That insightful principle has given me a powerful new tool with which to evaluate decisions I am making as a wife, mother, friend, citizen, etc.... Recently I have had several reasons to reflect on whether or not to continue homeschooling. I have chosen to go forward, after clarifying to myself that homeschooling must never be a decision "against" anything, but a decision "for" something great.<br />
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The big buzzword in our family life these days is "parish renewal". Rich's brand new job is all about Church renewal, the New Evangelization, parish renewal - in short, his job involves deeply recognizing that something has gone drastically wrong in our culture, that "religion" is no longer thriving quite as it used to. Something new, something creative and perhaps radical, some attempt to think outside the box is needed; if the Catholic faith is going to flourish in the next generations, parishes must dare to do things differently, even if some choices discomfit those who prefer the same old same old. Without compromising the dogma, depth, beauty or demands of orthodox Catholicism (and its liturgy), parish culture itself must be reimagined; the traditional model is not as powerful in the face of the new culture in which we live. <br />
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Reading and talking so often to Richard about "Parish Renewal" has led me to see parallels to "Family Renewal". The family is faring just as poorly as the Church, or arguably worse. It's a chicken-and-egg situation, and it behooves the one to invest in the other. I esteem homeschooling as a real possibility for "family renewal" - requiring the same courage in scrutinizing how fruitful the "normal model" has been, and demanding the same levels of prayerfulness, humility, commitment, creativity, ambition, passion, prudence and fortitude to try something new. When I look at the culturally normal and accepted model of family life and child-rearing, I ask myself - I am<i> obligated</i> to ask myself - how successful has this model been in producing close-knit families that are true schools of love, community, character and faith? Which factors might account for the failures of the Normal American Family? How can I do things differently so as to give my family <i>the best possible chance</i> of being genuinely intimate and close-knit <i>for life, </i>of becoming persons of character and sanctity, of investing in Christ and His Church wholeheartedly? Those are profound questions and I have no guarantee that the answers I am finding are correct.<br />
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<i>One</i> consideration that has given me much pause in my reading of the life of Karol Wojtyla: when he lived under Communist rule, he noted that Polish families were kept separated for as many hours a day as possible - husband from wife, mother from child, brother from sister - in a successful attempt to undermine the family. That does not sound so entirely different from the <i>de facto</i> segregation occasioned by the crazy pace and chaotic scheduling of the modern American family: two working parents (who may or may not cohabit); kids scattering in every direction for school; hasty dinners eaten solo; and homework, sports and extracurriculars eating up the nights and weekends. If separation undermines the family so successfully, then will more togetherness have the opposite effect? Is homeschooling a good method of fostering togetherness? (or is it <i>too much togetherness?) </i>I don't know. It's an experiment. I don't know the outcome yet. I presume it will depend almost entirely on what I<i> </i>do with all this togetherness.......a grave responsibility and not one to be undertaken lightly. Only in rising to that challenge do I satisfy John Paul the Great's instruction to choose <i>for</i> something <i>good</i>. If I'm keeping my kids home for the good of family life, character formation, etc.... then what I do with them all day better actively serve those goals. Not only must I carefully plan and execute for their academic education, but I must be constantly striving for a home life that is joyful, cheerful, peaceful, orderly and an absolutely compelling school of virtue. <br />
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Every young Catholic has a responsibility to truly discern religious life, which the Church recognizes as the highest calling and the most perfect (complete) gift of self. We are not all called to <i>become </i>religious (in fact, few are), but if we truly love God, we at least open our hearts to allow Him to call us completely to Himself, if He so desires. In a similar way, I feel obligated each year to discern whether I am called to continue homeschooling my children, which I see as a vocation within a vocation and <i>the most complete gift of self that I can possibly make to my family.</i> My children have been uniquely entrusted to me and no one else loves them (or knows themselves to be accountable for the persons they will become) as I do. Therefore, as primary educator of my children, if I choose to delegate significant portions of their upbringing to someone else, I am morally obligated to make that decision seriously, after prayerful discernment, well-informed of the personal and cultural influences that will shape my young children outside of our home. Not only what does the <i>school </i>itself purport to do, but <i>who is the teacher who will be in direct authority over my child? do I know of and admire her character & values sufficiently to responsibly entrust a good portion of my child's upbringing to her? is she kind, fair, challenging and just? is she vigilant about the culture of the classroom? what are her deepest attitudes about God and the Church? how much emphasis does she place on these in her private life and in the public life of the classroom? what about the teacher next year? and the year after that? who are the student peers who will tremendously influence my child's tastes and attitudes in nearly every domain? how well has my child internalized our family values and how much maturity does that child possess to lead, rather than be led? </i>These are questions to be dismissed (or answered flippantly) to our collective peril. Adults speak glowingly of the tremendous influence one great teacher had on their lives. Is the reverse true? What is the lesser-noticed impact of mediocre teachers? I don't believe that homeschooling is obligatory for all families, nor that I will certainly homeschool every year of my children's upbringing. Only the <i>discernment</i> seems obligatory to me, given the state of family and culture.<br />
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I discerned religious life for two years in my 20's, in a very serious (although very immature) way and determined it was not my calling. I do believe that there are (many!) people who could discern homeschooling and determine it is not for them. Thank goodness there are so many other options! When I first became a parent, I was open to the idea of homeschooling, but had not made a definite decision. Finances seemed to indicate a long term inability to ever afford Catholic schools and our public school district was unappealing. However, our kids were babies and really it was a moot point. A short time later, while living in New Zealand, I found a Montessori preschool near our house that was absolutely "perfect" by every yardstick I held - and tuition was nearly free. At the time, Maria was 3 years old, Bernadette was not quite 1- and I was newly pregnant. Not only pregnant, I was suffering from pregnancy-related depression and overwhelmed with living in a new country, with abundant missionary responsibilities and a home filled with daily visitors who distracted me mightily from interacting properly with my toddler. It was a hard time. Nine months later I was overwhelmed with caring for a seriously ill newborn, on top of everything else. In those particular seasons of my life, I discerned that sending my eldest child to school was the best thing I could do for her and I was tremendously grateful to have the option to entrust her to such a wonderful little school. Having outstanding schools is important and I have immense respect for all those who are involved in ensuring that that option exists. Our parish school and local Catholic high school are both phenomenal, and both are constantly striving to become ever better. It gives me great peace of mind to know that there are wonderful schools in town, if ever I discern that one child, or all the children, ought to be in school. Homeschooling for me is not about "rejecting" traditional school any more than consecrated life is about "rejecting" marriage and family.<br />
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I end with a bashful confession. Homeschooling is challenging; it is a constant struggle by this imperfect woman to grow in patience, self-giving, self-control, creativity and the ability to be in a fruitful and sympathetic relationship <i>with each child</i>. It is not perfect. It is often messy. Often I wish my kids had more access to peers and microscopes and fine arts. Like all things, it's a trade-off. The microscopes and kilns and band ensembles help keep firmly in my mind the fact that I am not choosing <i>against </i>traditional school, but <i>for</i> family culture. One of the biggest struggles for me (and here's the confession part): often I feel frustrated by <i>all that</i> <i>I</i> <i>can't do</i> because of the immense time and energy demanded by caring for and educating five kids of disparate ages who are <i>all </i>home <i>all </i>day <i>every </i>day. When I recently thought about what I could do with my time if some/many of my kids <u>went</u> to school..... I thought of the idealistic (more prayer! volunteering! ministry!); the domestic (a cleaner house, more mommy-and-me activities for the baby and toddler); the mundane (a part time job, keeping better in touch with friends); the disappointing, yet very likely (wasting more of my life breath surfing the internet) ...... I realized that, with exception of more prayer time, there is nothing more important, worthwhile, or frankly satisfying than what I am doing, despite all its myriad frustrations. I am possessed of a renewed sense of gratitude that I live in a free country where I am (still) permitted to homeschool, that I have a husband fully supportive of my desire to do so, that I have the education and temperament conducive to succeeding at it, and lastly, that I do have a firm sense of having a God-given vocation to homeschool.<br />
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The experiment continues.<br />
<br />kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12330870507513975314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5288012174354374564.post-34442300630752529412015-06-23T19:39:00.001-07:002015-06-23T19:54:34.371-07:00Way "Past Imperfect" indeed! Or, "Disappointing Novels By A Catholic Author"A short time ago, a friend of Rich's loaned him a book that advocated (among other things) always "simultaneously" reading several books on different topics - in other words, reading a few pages from several different kinds of books each day. The author, James Altucher, believes this practice helps us become more creative and dynamic because it fosters unlikely associations in our brains. This week I've been doing just that: reading, all at once, the following:<br />
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George Weigel's<u><i> Witness to Hope: The Biography of Pope John Paul II</i></u><br />
Greg Popcak's <i>Holy Sex </i>and also, a companion work of sorts by the same author,<br />
<i> Beyond the Birds and the Bees: Raising Sexually Whole and Holy Kids</i><br />
<i> </i>(I highly recommend both of these extremely practical and insightful books!)<br />
Julian Fellowes' first novel, <i>Snobs </i>and his follow-up <i>Past Imperfect</i><br />
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Technically, I was not reading the two Fellowes fictions "simultaneously", but I did blast through both novels in three days total, so it <i>felt</i> like I was reading them at the same time. I was still digesting the first as I devoured the second. On the other hand, I checked Weigel's<i> dense</i> 864 page text on JPII out of our parish library about five MONTHS ago and have been slowly, steadily, faithfully plodding through ever since. I read it almost every night. I'm not even halfway done... And while I've been "done" reading the two Popcak books for a while, there was so much <u>excellent</u> stuff in both (despite the author's <i>sometimes</i> maddeningly self-righteous tone) that I've been frequently reviewing and digesting the most worthwhile sections of both books ever since.<br />
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And- it's true about the fruitfulness of an unexpected pairing of ideas. But quite by accident, all of this reading material had a LOT to do with sex. John Paul II had much to offer the world on the topic, and Weigel does a good job of unpacking it in the biography. Popcak's books on sexuality are indebted to the late Pope's Theology of the Body to the point of their existence being<u> entirely </u>impossible without it. And Julian Fellowes' novels, while theoretically "about" English aristocrats and historical cultural shifts and power, turned out ultimately to be really all about sex. Which was a crushing disappointment to me for many reasons.<br />
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I'll start with the "brand" of human sexuality that Fellowes communicates in his novels. Compared to what I was reading in Popcak's reflections on the awesome potential inherent to marital intimacy, the sex Fellowes writes about is boring, cheap, repulsive and, incidentally, unconvincing. He sets up a false dichotomy of sex as being either immoral and exciting OR "married" and drab. How unfair and untrue. I studied the Fellowes novels under an even purer light as I simultaneously digested the deep thoughts of John Paul the Great on the importance of literature, culture, friendship, marriage and human sexuality. I wasn't just disappointed in <i>Past Imperfect </i>as a novel; I was disappointed in it as a force of culture and as a commentary on culture. <br />
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Then, novels with highly sex-driven plot lines are not my usual fare. And when I read novels about aristocratic English ladies, I want to read about women who dress, think and behave like Elinor Dashwood and Elizabeth Bennet. But I pushed on with Fellowes because, as in his for-television writing, he has a talent for arresting my interest and making me almost frantic to know what will happen next. There are few other televisions writers who have done that to me in the past decade. (None, to be exact.) So I assumed that despite the often rough language and the very occasional PG-13 physical interlude, he would come out on the other end triumphantly (though gracefully) affirming Truth, Goodness, Beauty - and traditional Catholic sexual morality. Like he does with Downton Abbey. Like the Great Catholic Novelists my Providence College English professors and Steubenville grad school friends loved: Waugh, O'Connor, Undset, Greene. But Fellowes didn't deliver this time. <br />
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For five seasons of Downton Abbey, I have watched him showcase the stickiest of human behavior, always and every time to ultimately demonstrate the indignity of sin and its sad, lasting consequences. I've thought it remarkable and I've admired him tremendously for creating a smash hit television show with firm moral underpinnings, whose popularity is not in <u>any</u> way confined to the cultural Catholic ghetto (to the contrary!). Infidelity, promiscuity, divorce, abortion, contraception, homosexuality, rape, prostitution....there seems no morally contested area of human sexuality that Fellowes is afraid to explore. Never <u>glorifying</u> sin, he shows the hard modern issues from different vantage points, in different contexts, from the most sympathetic possible angles, and yet each time (I've thought) he does a wonderfully effective job of wrapping up the story line by gently and subtly underscoring Catholic moral teaching on each. I trusted him to do the same in his novels. <u>Snobs</u> did, to an extent. By the end of that novel, I felt that Fellowes had somewhat weakly commented on the right and wrong foundations for marriage, rather more strongly commended the heroic virtue of fidelity to marriage vows under difficult circumstances, and had driven home a very powerful message about human freedom and our responsibility for the consequences of the choices we freely make. <u>Past Imperfect,</u> in contrast, seems rather the opposite. I finished reading this afternoon and can't shake the unsettling feeling this novel has left in my gut. I'm crestfallen that the Catholic writer I have so long championed could have written something as morally bankrupt as this book. I keep hoping that, as the hours pass and I have more time to reflect on what I just finished reading, I'll suddenly "get it" and realize that he was being IRONIC. Or that I'll suddenly grasp that he was doing some delicate literary-artsy THING and I was just too thick to see it while I was reading. Like when I read <u>Brideshead Revisited.</u> Or anything by Flannery O'Connor. But realistically, no. I think not. I want that to be true so badly, but I'm afraid it isn't to be. Text me, email me, send me a link if I'm wrong. I still so wish to be wrong.<br />
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This is the last in my unintended <i>series </i>of posts about books. Next time, something about <i>real </i>life. Because how much time can a girl have to read, think and write about books in a <i>real life</i> filled up with five children? In my determination to soldier through those novels this week, said children were a tad bit neglected. This is why I don't have a television. That said, my resolution for the rest of the summer is to confine my reading to the hours after the little ones are in bed. Which means no more fiction for a while. Here's to the hope that this resolution helps me return my JPII biography to the parish library before my own John Paul's first birthday this October. At the rate I'm going, it's an ambitious goal, but not an impossible one.....<br />
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<br />kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12330870507513975314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5288012174354374564.post-77967192460195193992015-05-10T13:44:00.000-07:002015-05-10T13:45:36.261-07:00bad religion<div class="gmail_default" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">
<span style="background-color: #f4cccc; font-family: garamond, serif;">The formal review, as promised in yesterday's post..... (I wrote this for our parish bulletin, which will explain some of the otherwise curious references I make to "our parish", etc....)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f4cccc; font-family: garamond, serif;">Ross Douthat's<i> Bad Religion: How We Became a Nation of Heretics</i> (2012) speaks to anyone who suspects that a decline in religious faith is responsible for the vast majority of our country's problems. It also addresses itself to anyone who believes that the root of our nation's woes is <i>too much</i> religion. Douthat posits that both positions are correct: <i>bad </i>religion <u>is</u> undermining America. Religion done <i>well</i>, he argues, is our sole hope for national health. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f4cccc; font-family: garamond, serif;">Douthat (who is Catholic) begins by tracing the history of religion in America. After a brief sketch of the religious convictions of the pilgrims, colonists and Founding Fathers, he skims the fluctuations of Christianity in the US through the 1950's. He identifies the 50's as the <i>seeming </i>Golden Age of American Christianity, but notes that collapse was imminent and delves deeply into the question of <i>why? </i>What pre-existing conditions, what cultural undercurrents, what political events set off fifty years of religious decline in a country that <i>appeared</i> so robustly pious? </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f4cccc; font-family: garamond, serif;">The subject matter does not make for light reading, but it's a particularly interesting and important topic, given our parish's recent commitment to renewal. "If it's not broken, don't fix it".... But, if "it"<i> is </i>broken<i>....</i> find out <i>why</i>; find out <i>what has been done</i> to attempt repair; find out which repair attempts met with some success and <i>why each ultimately failed</i>. This book provides much of that necessary information. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f4cccc; font-family: garamond, serif;">Douthat touches on the Civil Rights movement, the emergence of the megachurch, Fulton Sheen, Billy Graham, Ronald Reagan, Barack Obama, the sexual revolution and the sex abuse crisis, parish shopping and organic eating. His scope is broad, peppered with insights sure to challenge some of the political and cultural assumptions each reader holds, while vindicating others. He is especially preoccupied (and unimpressed) with "accommodationist" Christianity, by which he refers to fifty-plus years of attempts to adapt worship and creed to make both more appealing to lukewarm Christians of each decade. (This censure gave me pause. <i>Isn't that what we are attempting at Epiphany? </i>As I continued reading, I was able to confidently answer that fear with a resounding "<i>No"). </i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f4cccc; font-family: garamond, serif;">Douthat identifies four major "heresies" on our current cultural landscape. He<span style="color: #444444; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"> takes pains to plumb the depths of these popular modern spiritualities and pseudo-spiritualities, explaining (not unkindly)<i> why</i> they are<i> </i>attractive to so many people. These fascinating pages scrutinize figures such as Joel Osteen, Oprah Winfrey and Glenn Beck</span><span style="color: #444444; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">; they also explore cultural phenomena like Dan Brown's <i>The</i> <i>Da Vinci Code</i> and Elizabeth Gilbert's <i>Eat, Pray, Love. </i>Douthat sounds the alarm over a shift towards "the steady conflation of religious belief and partisan politics, to the detriment of both." But perhaps most importantly, he does a solid expose of the "God Within" trend: the fashion of being "spiritual, but not religious" which is so attractive to young people (as well as many of their parents). We would do well to understand the appeal of this "heresy" and Douthat's book is good resource. The concept of God as Light, Being, Creation, the Universe, or the individual's own Highest Thought has been identified by Richard Dawkins himself as "a sexed up atheism," and it is crucial for us, for the sake of our young people, to understand the seduction of this spirituality. Rather than dismiss it as foolish fluff, it behooves serious believers to penetrate more fully into the mindset of those who enshrine "niceness [as] the highest ethical standard". We are speaking of persons who espouse tolerance and embody narcissism, who possess an ever-increasing ability to communicate on social media and a frighteningly diminishing ability to live in community, who have more freedom and less happiness than any previous generation....in a word, this heresy touches nearly all of us - to some extent or another. This is the heresy perhaps most responsible for emptying our pews and breaking parents' hearts. If I want to protect my child from losing her faith and help my neighbor rediscover his, I must have a well-trained ear to notice the (often surprisingly subtle) voices peddling this loose spirituality and I ought to become fluent in my ability to counter its errors. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: garamond, serif;"><span style="background-color: #f4cccc; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">Douthat's short conclusion contains his evaluation of possible and popular sources of religious renewal, as well as his descriptions of what renewal <i>ought </i>and <i>ought not</i> look like. He recounts G.K. Chesterton's brilliant insight that time and again "the Faith has to all appearances gone to the dogs [yet always] it was the dog that died." While Douthat encourages the reader in the virtue of hope, reminding us that America has come through worse times than these and Christianity through <i>much</i> worse, he also cautions "that it would be heresy and hubris to assume that a renewal of either is inevitable." With a touch of humor and a thump of solemnity, he insists, "Jesus never said that the gates of hell would not prevail against the United States of America." Implied is that it is up to each of us, in our own adherence to authentic religion, to ensure that the gates of hell do not continue encroaching upon that goal. </span></span></div>
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kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12330870507513975314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5288012174354374564.post-11169634173293992452015-05-09T20:13:00.003-07:002015-05-10T09:35:20.020-07:00Great Books for Catholic Grown-UpsAfter writing my last post on some of my kids' favorite books, I can't resist writing a follow-up post on some of the books I have most enjoyed lately!<br />
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1. <i>Saint John Paul the Great: His Five Great Loves</i> (Jason Evert) -<br />
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Pope John Paul II is hands-down my favorite saint. Like so many other mamas, I wanted to name my first son for him. My husband, however, had <u>his</u> heart set on naming our first son after his own favorite saint. Since he had called dibs on naming our first son "Joseph" about two weeks after we met, I had to give in gracefully when we actually produced that male heir five years later. Rich in turn graciously let <u>me</u> pick the middle name. I picked "Pio" for my <i>second</i> favorite saint....and because it would give my first son the initials "J.P." <br />
Although Rich wanted to name our second son "John Paul", we couldn't agree on a nickname (JP, Johnny, Johnnyboy, John John and a long list of others were proposed by Rich and vetoed by Kelly). We opted to repeat the idea of just using the initials "J.P." So, James Patrick is unofficially "JPII" in our family. But we never actually call him that. By my orders.<br />
When our third boy was born last October (in the month John Paul II became Pope and in the year in which he was canonized) we both agreed it was clearly time to use The Name. We also agreed to use no nickname at all.<br />
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I regretted it all within hours of signing off on the birth certificate. John Paul is a real mouthful. It's a big name for a tiny person. The "Paul" got dropped by every nurse and doctor on the maternity floor. Except for the ones who carelessly assumed the right to call him "JP".<br />
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While I was wallowing in regret, Rich brought home the (long ago) aforementioned book. It's such a slim volume, I almost gave it a pass. I didn't think such a tiny book could contain anything really new about the man. I'd already read so much about him. What else could there be?<br />
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I won't even give a hint here. It's not necessarily that Jason Evert reveals "new" things about the beloved saint. It's the beauty and simple holiness of the man that overwhelms you as you read. This book is not about facts and dates and accomplishments. It's not really about anectdotes either. It's just about the five "things" John Paul the Great loved <u>and how he loved them.</u><br />
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By the time I finished this short book (I tried to draw it out as long as possible) I wanted to love what he loved and how he loved them...and I was so grateful to have a son named after him. My new baby's name no longer seemed cumbersome and I was no longer reaching for a nickname. And THAT was just about when Rich hit upon the nickname that has stuck on this poor child: ZombieBaby.<br />
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2. <i>The Story of the Trapp Family Singers</i> (Maria Augusta Trapp)<br />
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A while back, I let my girls & Joseph watch <i>The Sound of Music </i>for the first time. Joseph became obsessed with the Nazis and the girls with the Trapp family. We spent the next few months learning everything we could about both.<br />
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The public library carried Maria Von Trapp's autobiography, but I had trouble finding it at first because I didn't know she had dropped "Von" when she came to live in America. Because I didn't know she came to live in America.<br />
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Once I figured out that I had to look under "T" and not under "V", I had a real treasure in my hands. While the movie <u>is </u>faithful to the spirit of its main character and to some of the events she experienced, the differences revealed in this autobiography are surprising and delightful: when Maria first leaves the convent (strictly as an academic tutor, not as a governess), she thinks there will be only one child under her care; the "Baroness" is actually a Princess; Maria does not fall in love with the Captain until <u>after</u> she (Maria) is his wife. These and many other discrepencies kept my pages turning rapidly. Her version of the story of their escape from the Nazis is better than Hollywood's, and her adventures in America are both funny and fascinating.<br />
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However, what I most appreciate about this book is the truly inspiring intensity of Maria's Catholic faith. Her portrayal of WWII era Austrian Catholicism is stunning. She describes parish rituals from an age long gone, as well some beautifully holy domestic traditions which she attempted to bring with her to the States. Her efforts to raise her children as good Catholics in our culture are laudable, as is her passionate desire to do whatever necessary to keep the family unit tightly knit together. I didn't expect more from this book than to learn the "real story" behind a classic movie. I got that, indeed, and so much more. <br />
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3. <i>Time for God </i>(Fr Jacques Philippe)<br />
Quite simply, this is a teeny tiny little book brimful of wisdom on prayer. It would be beneficial to someone who has never prayed in his life. It would be helpful to someone who prays daily. It's practical and concrete, written in a simple, accessible style - not at all intimidating or complex.<br />
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4. <i>Searching For And Maintaining Peace </i>(also by Fr Jacques Philippe)<br />
I read this book five years ago. And every night since. Literally. Just a page or two each night, just enough to keep the life-changing insights of this small book always fresh in my mind. I read it for the first time when I was wrestling with depression <i>and</i> in danger of losing my unborn child....and I kept reading it once the baby was safely delivered, but seriously ill and enduring months of hospitalizations, medical tests and uncertainty. I can't give enough credit to this book as a conduit of God's grace for me in that difficult period (and since!)<br />
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5. <i>one thousand gifts</i> (Ann Voskamp)<br />
I loved this book. I hated this book. I can't decide if I loved it more than I hated it or not. I <u>HAD TO</u> own this book. I felt like I needed a support group/book club to help me work through my wide range of reactions to the book, the ideas in the book, the language in which the book is written. It's been about five months since I finished it and I still have no final verdict on it. Without delving too deeply into my interior drama over this best-seller, I will say two things by way of recommending it:<br />
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1. The language. The way she writes. It's poetic. It's beautiful. It's annoying as hell. Then it gets worse. And then, suddenly, it stopped bothering me. I made peace with it. I wondered if secretly I had been perhaps jealous of those <i>images</i> Ann Voskamp conveys. Then I realized....jealous or not, there was another reason for my irritation. I just wanted to <u>finish the book</u> and her poetry was <u>slowing me down</u> and tripping me up. (See #2.)<br />
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2. I <u>need</u> to slow down and stop being so task-oriented that I keep missing beauty. This idea is the main "good" that has come into my life from reading this book. Ann Voskamp began writing down the beautiful and good from her own life. She kept a running list of what was "best" in her day. Eventually, that list inspired her book. Since I read this book, I too have been keeping a list of the gifts I recognize each day. For years I've examined my conscience nightly (which essentially means that just before I officially end the day, I take a good close look at all the nastiest crap from the day and I apologize to the One most offended by it. A good pious practice - and also a bit of a downer at the end of an already discouraging day.....) It's been a wonderful addition to ALSO look gratefully on all that brought joy. I now end the day by also thanking the One most responsible for those fleeting moments of joy. This idea originated with the Jesuits, not Voskamp, but she helped me make it a reality in my daily routine. I find that I am now much more aware of how much joy there is in each day. I also find that I am more conscious of those moments as they unfold. I am more "in the moment" with them as they happen.<br />
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Although there are many things (besides the dramatic poetic style) that drove me nuts about the book, the only other one I'll mention is that it can be really off the wall to try to read it <u>as a Catholic</u>, for the following reasons:<br />
1. Voskamp is not Catholic<br />
2. She is writing a book on EUCHARISTIC living<br />
3. She is quoting excellent Catholic authors all over the place (Chesterton, mystics, saints, popes)<br />
4. She is quoting Scripture <u>on the Eucharist</u> all over the place<br />
and yet<br />
5. <b>She utterly misses the entire truth of the Eucharist.</b><br />
(and dodges any attempt to honestly grapple with the unanimous consensus that all her Catholic sources deliver on the Eucharist. And awkwardly leaves out/jumps over Scripture that would <u>force </u>her to grapple with it. I just found it a wee bit....maddening)<br />
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6. <i>Divine Renovation</i> (Fr James Mallon)<br />
I've not often had the pleasure of reading a book written by someone I actually know, but Rich and I met Fr Mallon while we were missionaries in New Zealand. In fact, he and Rich visited Hobbiton together. He's Canadian and had come to give the parish mission at the same church that was hosting us. That was maybe four years ago. I just read his book last week. <br />
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This book is exciting. It's a total "outside the box" approach to parish renewal in the Catholic Church. While totally faithful to orthodox Catholicism, it proposes a host of "wow!" ideas that have real potential to create bigger, stronger parish communities filled with far more spiritually mature Catholics. These are Rich's final days teaching at our local Catholic high school. He's about to return to parish ministry, so the ideas outlined in this book are a lot more relevant to us right now than they might otherwise be. I like to think that I would have found this book insightful, inspiring and interesting even if parish ministry was not in my husband's immediate future. If nothing else, it showed me that far from having attained anything close to spiritual adulthood, I am still very much stuck in spiritual puberty. What's better: in addition to reminding me of this humbling fact, the book leaves no doubt as to what must be done to grow up. Praise be to God.<br />
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7. <i>Bad Religion: How We Became a Nation of Heretics</i> (Ross Douthat)<br />
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More than a year ago, Rich and I went on a date to Barnes and Noble. We each found a book and sat on a couch together reading. (We're exciting like that.)<br />
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I picked up this <i>Bad Religion</i> book - I think the title jumped off the shelf at me. I skimmed, I browsed, I read a paragraph here and there. We left.<br />
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For A YEAR I kept thinking about the snippets I'd read. Not all the time, just every so often. Then I started seeing the book referenced in other books or articles I was reading. Finally I checked the public library and brought it home. For the past ten days, I've drank in this book every time I sat down to nurse John Paul.<br />
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The first half of the book paints the history of Christianity in America. Interesting stuff. Really. Douthat traces the rise and fall of various Christian denominations, noting what was happening culturally and/or politically during these fluctuations of faith. He not only recounts what happened in Christianity, but he takes a stab at explaining <u>why</u> it happened. It's not light reading, but I enjoy his writing style and the subject matter interests me. So I plodded happily along, not minding at all how long it took the baby to finish his meals and fall asleep.<br />
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If the first half of the book explains "<u>how</u> we became a nation of heretics," the second zooms in for a close look at the most popular modern "heresies". I wasn't really expecting or prepared for this close-up and it confused me a little at first.....and then, it <b><u>UN</u></b>confused me. In the pages of this book, I found a great deal of insight into groups of people who generally baffle me. Douthat explains some of the popular spiritualities (and pseudo-spiritualities) of our time; he also explains (not unkindly) why they are so attractive to so many people. Some of the groups he sketches include those who adhere to the Prosperity Gospel, those who are "spiritual but not religious," and those believers whose political passions far eclipse their spiritual zeal.<br />
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I found his insights to be spot-on. He puts words around ideas I've held rather fuzzily for a long time and he raises points I have never considered before. He's Catholic, faithful and traditional in his spirituality, yet unafraid to make his Catholic reader squirm in her rocking chair. His criticisms cross Christian denominations and partisan lines. He challenges some of the political assumptions I have long held and vindicates others. Since I began reading, I've had a sharper spiritual focus in terms of how I view politics, culture and my own behavior.<br />
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I finished this last book a few hours ago. My little nursling just woke up for another meal, but now I have no Ross Douthat to keep me company as I feed. It's late. I'm tired. I feel certain I can't bring this to an intelligent conclusion at present. I've been invited to write something much more coherent and polished about this book next week. Once I do so, I'll most likely publish it here as well.<br />
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If anyone has read any of the books discussed here, I'd love to hear thoughts on them! And of course (at least until I wean the baby) I'm always looking for great book recommendations.<br />
<br />kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12330870507513975314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5288012174354374564.post-53890035877740823802015-04-10T19:51:00.004-07:002015-05-09T20:46:14.614-07:00Great Books for Catholic Kids<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reading to five</td></tr>
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If there is only one thing that I am confident I am doing well as a parent, it's that I am doing my best to instill a life-long love of books in my children. I read to myself every single day, and I read every single day to my kids. It's by far my favorite thing to do with them. As soon as the baby takes a nap, I've got a little girl on either side of me, two little boys sharing my lap, and a pile of books at my feet. I easily check out 50 to 75 children's library books per month, minimum. Roughly half the stuff we read is non-fiction; the rest spans a broad range of juvenile fiction, from the gorgeous to the whimsical, and the serious to the silly.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">THIS is what happens when we get home from the library. Blessed silence. </td></tr>
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Few things brighten my day more than when "awesome children's books" overlap with "faith". In order to be "awesome" for me, a picture book (religious or otherwise) must be written and illustrated with excellence. When I stumble across something that makes a deep impression on my children (and that I'm willing to read again and again), I'll usually hunt down a used copy online and buy it. Recently, a few friends were returning to the faith after long absences and asked for suggestions about catechizing their very young children. My two easiest suggestions: hanging up beautiful religious art in the child's bedroom and building up a nice little library of great Christian books.<br />
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We all have really different ideas of what makes for a "great children's book". MANY (oh so, so many) a time I've scoured the library for titles on a List Of Great Juvenile Literature, only to emerge with a pile of books that my kids and I were all pretty "meh" about. So, rather than share a list of "Must-Own Christian Kid's Books", I think it's perhaps more helpful to go broad and discuss categories of books, rather than just the specific titles. I've probably missed some categories, but off the top of my head, I think a Catholic family benefits from having some books from each category below. Here goes.<br />
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Staples in a Catholic Home, with examples/suggestions for each category:<br />
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<b><u>1. Books About the Mass:</u></b><br />
These come in <i>two species</i>, so to speak -<br />
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Books about Mass, like<br />
<i>The Weight of the Mass</i> (J. Nobisso) Whimsical paintings. Loosely based on a true miracle. Story that highlights the value of the Catholic Mass. Wonderful vocabulary too! Age 5 or 6 and up.<br />
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and Mass books, such as<br />
The Catholic Icing's <i>Illustrated Mass</i> (Appropriate for a child approaching First Communion. Available online for about $5. Guides a child through the parts of the Mass. )<br />
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<u>2<b>. Books About Scripture:</b></u><br />
Okay, I used to think that a children's illustrated Bible was an absolute staple, but after trying and using several highly lauded versions, I learned that I personally would rather read the kids short passages directly from an adult Bible. However, that choice may not be for everyone, which is why Children's Bibles exist.<br />
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One such choice.... <i>The Action Bible </i>(written and illustrated in..... <u>Comic Book</u> style. I hate it! I can't say enough how much I detest this format for a Bible. But - Rich and the kids LOVE it. They love it even more than I hate it. To each his own....<br />
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When it comes to Scripture, I prefer something that absolutely screams "good, true and beautiful".... something a little more reverent than <i>cartoons.</i>... something more along the lines of <i>The Beautiful Story of the Bible</i> (Roche) This little treasure is <i>almost</i> a child's Bible and it is soooo lovely. We've checked it out of our parish library a few times now and it's next on my "to buy" list.<br />
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In lieu of children's Bibles, I enjoy reading a gorgeous picture book that zones in on just <u>one</u> story/person/book from the Bible. Some of my favorites in this category present text taken straight from Scripture with breathtaking illustrations. Others have no words at all, simply telling the story in pictures. <br />
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<i>Creation</i> (Genndy Spirin)<br />
<i>Adam and Eve and the Garden of Eden</i> (Jane Ray)<br />
<i>Noah's Ark: Words from the Book of Genesis </i>(Jane Ray)<br />
<i>Noah's Ark (</i>Peter Spier) (or the one illustrated by Jerry Pinkney)<br />
<i>Exodus</i> (Brian Wildsmith)<br />
..... and so on and so forth, through the entire Old Testament, if you so please!<br />
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Both of my libraries carry lots of these kinds of books. We've read at least 6 versions of the story of Queen Esther, for example, and the kids enjoy seeing the way different authors and illustrators present the same material.<br />
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<b><u>3. Books About Saints</u></b><br />
There are some well-done "encyclopedia" versions (one volume, lots of saints), such as: <br />
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Ruth Sanderson's <i>Saints Lives & Illumunations </i><br />
<i>More Saints Lives and Illuminations </i>(also by Sanderson)<br />
<i>Treasury of Saints and Martyrs</i> (by Margaret Mulvihill)<br />
Amy Welborn's <i>Book of Saints</i> and the sequel, <i>Book of Heroes </i><br />
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I like to have one or two of these in the house so that I can easily access info about a saint when a kid expresses interest. But these are not books I sit and read cover to cover. They are more "textbook" than "storybook".<br />
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Side note: I'd love to rename this section "Biographies of Inspiring Catholics" and include within it some amazing books written for kids about our popes and Our Lady; however, I have yet to read any books on either that I absolutely love and want to reread a billion times to my kids. I've seen a lot of kids books on various popes and Mary, but either they're too long, too cheesy, too dry, too cartoony, take too many liberties, etc.... Please <u>write a comment</u> if I've missed a great book on Mary or a pope. (Please <u>write a great book </u>on Mary or a pope if I <i>haven't</i>.)<br />
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On the other hand, there are <i>heaps</i> of great picture books out there that depict the <u>life of a saint</u>. Just yesterday I read Demi's <i>St Joan of Arc </i>to my 4 oldest kids and we all loved it. In March, we read books about St Patrick, including a great one by Ann Tompert. We also read about other Irish saints, finding treasures in our public library such as Don Brown's <i>Across a Dark and Wild Sea </i>(story of St Columba). <i>St Valentine </i>by Robert Sabuda was a nice gift my kids got one Valentine's Day; I store it with the Valentine's decorations and we reread it every February. Most kids like Tomie DePaola's fiction and may enjoy his series of saint books: <i>The Lady of Guadalupe; Christopher the Holy Giant; Patrick; Francis; </i>etc...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">lest I give the impression that we just sit around and read books on holidays....</td></tr>
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<b><u>4. An Illustrated First Catechism </u></b><br />
Even with a 2 year old, this kind of little book provides a chance to start teaching some of the basics of the faith. We have two thin paperback versions (which we do not "read" cover-to-cover like a storybook. We look at pictures and I ask questions like "Who made the sun? The animals? The trees?" while my toddlers happily chirp out their answers. On the page with a depiction of the Trinity we review the idea of three persons and one God - and I quiz them on the names of the three Persons. They like answering the questions and some of the pictures are of more or equal catechetical value than the text - they <i>illustrate </i>concepts that would otherwise be hard/impossible to explain or discuss with a toddler!) Two possibilities:<br />
<i> The New St Joseph First Communion Catechism </i>(really helpful pictures!)<br />
<i>My</i> <i>First Catechism </i>by Fr Lovasik<br />
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<b><u>5. Christmas & Easter Storybooks:</u></b><br />
Every Christmas and Easter, my kids get a couple of new religious Christmas or Easter books. Slowly we have acquired an awesome collection. I can't depend on the library for these because everyone else in town wants these books at the same time that we do, obviously. I store them with the Christmas decorations and Easter baskets, and then each Sunday in Lent or Advent, I pull out a few and we build up to the holiday partly with books.<br />
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<u>Some of Our Favorite Christmas stories:</u><br />
<i>Star of Wonder </i>(Leena Lane & Elena Baboni)<br />
Thorough treatment of first Christmas, whimsical illustrations<br />
<i>Christmas </i>(Jan Pienkowski) All text straight from Gospel, intriguing illustrations<br />
<i>Room for a Little One</i> (by Martin Waddell, gorgeous illustrations by Jason Cockcroft)<br />
Suitable even for young toddlers - I love this book!<br />
<i>The Crippled Lamb </i>(Max Lucado. Need I say more?)<br />
<i>Little One, We Knew You'd Come </i>(Sally Lloyd-Jones, stunning ill. Jackie Morris)<br />
Also suitable for toddlers. Catechizes parents as well ;)<br />
<i>This is the Star </i>(Dunbar, photo-like images by Gary Blythe)<br />
<i>The Christmas Miracle of Jonathan Toomey</i> (Susan Wojciechowski) <br />
(ages 4 and up - may bring a tear to your eye!)<br />
<i>The Miracle of St Nicholas </i>(Whelan) (the value of being able to attend MASS on Christmas)<br />
<i>A Gift From St Francis</i> (Cole. The first Nativity scene)<br />
Also, seriously, <i>How the Grinch Stole Christmas</i>! Such a fun way to start a discussion<br />
on what Christmas is really about! <br />
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<u>Our favorite Easter books: </u><br />
<i>The Easter Story</i> by Brian Wildsmith (Jesus' last days through the eyes of a donkey. Gilded involved<br />
paintings, lots to see, includes institution of Eucharist, very 'complete', very Catholic. Ages 3 or 4 and up)<br />
<i>Follow Me: Peter Lays Down His Net </i>(Rottmann. Also very Catholic.)<br />
<i>Easter </i>(Jan Pienkowski. Scripture & cool art)<br />
<i>Peter's First Easter</i> by Wangerin<br />
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<i>The Tale of the Three Trees (</i>Hunt. So deep!)</div>
<i>The Easter Angels </i>(Hartman. A sweet but deep fiction about the angels at Jesus' tomb)<br />
<i>The End of the Fiery Sword </i>(written by my friend and mentor, Maura McKeegan. Excellent for<br />
thoroughly examining WHY Jesus died, starting with Adam and Eve's fall!)<br />
<i>The First Easter </i>by Lois Rock (very simple but thorough, best for very little ones)<br />
<i>On That Easter Morning by Mary Joslin</i> (good, simple & thorough, nice illustrations)<br />
<i>He Is Risen Indeed</i> (David Erickson) (simply the Easter Gospels, illustrated in oil paintings)<br />
<i>Easter in the Garden</i> by Pamela Kennedy (very well done fiction about<br />
a little boy witnessing Jesus' Resurrection)<br />
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Also nice to have is a kid's illustrated Stations of the Cross booklet<br />
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Lastly, during Lent, I like to check the public library for children's picture books about Passover - it has helped my kids have a deeper understanding of what Jesus was up to on Holy Thursday.<br />
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<b><u>6. Picture books/story books/novels that emphasis Christian mysteries & virtues, such as: </u></b><br />
(There are so many wonderful choices out there! Here are just some that we love!)<br />
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Max Lucado: <i>Because I Love You, </i><br />
<i> You Are Special, </i><br />
<i> You are Mine, </i><br />
<i> Just the Way You Are</i><br />
Good for 3 to 7 year olds - and long beyond!<br />
Even I get something out of reading these four. The art is really beautiful too.<br />
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To a lesser extent, Max Lucado's garden bug series <b>books</b> are of value - a bit cheesier, sort of along the lines of VeggieTales - and like VeggieTales, also available on DVD..... I don't really enjoy them, but my kids do - their favorites: <i> </i><br />
<i> Hermie, An Ordinary Caterpillar</i><br />
<i> Buzby, the Misbehaving Bee</i><br />
<i> Webster, the Scaredy Spider </i><br />
<i> Flo, the Lyin' Fly</i><br />
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<i>The Princess and the Kiss</i> (purity for little girls age 4 or 5 and up) <br />
- beautiful! very gentle, sweet story about the gift of marriage & purity told in an age-appropriate way (Jennie Bishop)<br />
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<i>The Squire and the Scroll </i> (purity for little boys - age 4 or 5 & up) Also by Bishop, even better than<br />
the Princess and the Kiss!<br />
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<i>Angel in the Waters</i> (Regina Doman) An affirmation of the dignity of human life from the moment of conception. My kids have all enjoyed this even as very young toddlers, but I change the words for them at that age and make it <i>their own story</i> in the womb.<br />
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<i>Have You Filled a Bucket Today?</i> (Carol Mccloud. Concrete explanation of charity and kindness)<br />
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<i>The Quiltmaker's Gift </i>(Jeff Brumbeau. Not explicitly religious, but a great message about materialism/greed and generosity/detachment) My kids love this, I enjoy reading it and the art is intriguing - lots to see on each page! Age 3 or 4 and up.<br />
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<i>Snow White</i> Retold by Josephine Poole - a beautiful Christian retelling of the classic fairytale with a nice emphasis on forgiving our enemies rather than making our enemies wear red-hot dancing shoes until they fall down dead..... (This version actually ends with a powerful depiction of the truth that evil is destructive unto itself - it is one of the only versions I know of in which Snow White and/or the Prince do NOT inflict a revenge upon the wicked queen; instead, her own malice is her direct undoing.)<br />
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<i>The Bearskinner </i>(originally by the Brothers Grimm, retold by Laura Schlitz) Amazing "fairy tale" for boys (and girls) about the power of prayer and so much more. Best for older kids - the main character foolishly strikes a bargain with the devil, but afterwards learns his lesson <i>really</i> well.<br />
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<i>Gershon's Monster </i>(Kimmel) -- An excellent Jewish story about repenting for sin<br />
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<i>Godiva</i> by Lynn Cullen (beautiful princess/virtue book)<br />
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<i>Snook Alone</i> (Marilyn Nelson) - a story about a Catholic hermit and his dog, who become separated to illustrate a beautiful allegory about the life of prayer and faith and silence<br />
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<i>Brother Hugo and the Bear</i> (Kathy Beebe) - humorous, flattering tale about a medieval Catholic monk handcopying an illuminated manuscript.<br />
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By the time kids are old enough for novels, the choices really depend on gender and interests and taste, but here are just a few of the early novels my children have enjoyed (and which I feel have really made virtue wonderfully attractive):<br />
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<i>Little House on the Prairie series</i><br />
<i>The Courage of Sarah Noble</i><br />
<i>Listening For Lions</i><br />
<i>Little Women</i><br />
<i>A Little Princess</i><br />
<i>Heidi</i><br />
<i>Narnia series (obviously)</i><br />
<i>Charlie and the Chocolate Factory </i><br />
<i>The Tale of Despereaux</i><br />
<i>Mountain Born</i><br />
<i>Black Beauty</i><br />
<i>What Katy Did </i><br />
<i>Pollyanna</i><br />
<i>Thee, Hannah!</i><br />
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Happy Easter and happy reading!</div>
kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12330870507513975314noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5288012174354374564.post-22028805777374297532015-03-04T08:19:00.002-08:002015-03-04T08:19:29.925-08:00Mission to New Zealand, P.S. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This post ought really to be attached to the end of our old blog, because it was inspired by a recent visit from one of the (now grown) youth whom we served during our mission years in New Zealand.<br />
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Charlotte came to the States on a "nun run"; believing that the Lord is calling her to religious life, she spent a few weeks visiting various convents across this country (and serving in Haiti as well). She also got a VERY up-close-and-personal "Come and See" experience of Catholic family life. In fact, it was so up-close-and-personal that I feel utterly confident that her vocation to celibacy was assured by the second afternoon of her nine day stay at Casa Sealy. </div>
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The last time Charlotte spent any time with this family, we were in New Zealand with an almost 5 year old, a 2 year old, a sick newborn and a little one on the way. Now - the eldest in nearly 8 and was delighted to see her old babysitter once again. The former 2 year old is five and a half - she remembers nothing of Charlotte or New Zealand, but was delighted to get reacquainted with both (see below). The sick baby is a miraculously healthy little boy and the "little one" has never been called "little" since he burst out on American soil weighing nearly nine pounds. Plus, we now have another fat baby - our only child with absolutely no claim on New Zealand :(</div>
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Charlotte knew exactly the way to their hearts: </div>
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She asked them to help her learn how to play in snow!</div>
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They hoped this Kiwi girl would never leave! But, alas, she did. At 4:30 this morning, to be exact. But not before she witnessed a promise made. Rich wants me to start blogging and he extracted a promise from me to post photos from Charlotte's visit and photos of the latest pegs. So, in fulfillment of my word....</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vietnamese Martyr, St Valentine, Queen Esther, St Juan Diego, Our Lady of Guadalupe<br /><br /></td></tr>
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Charlotte and I had one lovely evening when she painted a gorgeous Peg of Our Lady and I crafted a St Cecilia, but we hid her peg from the sticky (in every sense) hands of my children before I photographed it. When she gets home from Haiti, I'll have her email me a photo of her peg and post it in here. </div>
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Charlotte and I also prayed Stations of the Cross with the kids, using the Passion Pegs or Resurrection Peg Set I'd made a few months ago. As each Station was announced, the kids picked out the appropriate pegs, arranged them, and even built appropriate props (like a cross and a tomb) out of wooden blocks. It was the best way I have ever prayed the Stations with kids - by far! They have been busy with the pegs even when we are not using them for Stations - they've had those pegs act out nearly every part of the latter half of the Gospels. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Judas arranging to turn Jesus over to the Pharisees</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the Garden of Olives, Peter, James & John witness Jesus betrayed with a kiss</td></tr>
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So, there we go. Up and running after many months. Safe travels to Charlotte and we look forward to welcoming you back to the States - in a habit ;)</div>
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kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12330870507513975314noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5288012174354374564.post-29589929935410331332014-10-20T19:35:00.003-07:002014-10-21T18:33:28.090-07:00five kidsJohn Paul has arrived, weighing in at 7 pounds 11 ounces, and greeted with sheer delight by all four older siblings (phew!) He's ten days old tonight and doing great. I, on the other hand, still feel like I recently tangled with the Whomping Willow, but am confident that once I start getting more than four hours of sleep at night, that sensation will fade off..... (so little guy, that's a gentle hint to start sleeping less during the day and more during the night, okay?)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">one day old, in a hat I bought for baby Joseph in New Zealand four years ago.....</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">two days old</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">one week old and fresh from our first bath</td></tr>
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One thing that changed for me over the course of this pregnancy was my immediate gut-level reaction to the decidedly negative or awkward comments that strangers make about the size of my family. In the past, those comments offended me. At some point in my life with four children, I realized that since having four kids is sort of counter-cultural, I simply had to expect and accept that the culture would indeed counter it.... I finally connected "Accept your share of hardship for the sake of the Gospel" to these often uncomfortable experiences. It occurred to me that it was rather naive and whiny to be surprised or riled by those comments at all. Immediately they stopped bothering me. Sometimes they even began to amuse me. </div>
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So, while pregnant with this fifth child, it did not ruffle me when a male neighbor - shocked by my newly evident pregnancy - burst forth with, "Wow.....you're really going to have a whole passel of....um...uh....tax breaks." (I laughed in my head while I waited for him to grope for a <i>somewhat</i> appropriate noun with which to finish his impulsive outburst.) </div>
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Nor did I get upset a few months later when a tradesman working in the neighborhood asked me if I was running a daycare in my front yard. When he learned that the kids were all my own - with another sibling clearly on the way - he responded, "Well.....Just so long as you know when to stop...." (in a tone of voice that clearly implied that HE thought THAT time had been three children ago.) </div>
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And it did not bother me this evening when I took my eldest daughter (and the baby) to an art class and the instructor, who had presumed through previous classes, I suppose, that I was pregnant with my second child, congratulated me warmly on the birth of the baby and asked my daughter if she was enjoying life as a big sister. Maria was so intent on her artwork that she did not hear or answer him, so I smiled at him and told him it was our fifth baby and that Maria was already very used to being a big sister. His face changed from warmth to utter confusion and he blurted out sincerely, "Are you some kind of glutton for punishment?" Although I wasn't offended, I admit that I didn't really know how to answer that question. He really seemed to want a direct answer. Sadly, my response was a flustered non sequitur. As we continued talking, he kept returning to the "five kids" thing and each time, in a slightly different way, he reiterated that he had three young boys who were already "too much" for him and he simply could not imagine having or wanting FIVE children. I still didn't know what to say and just kept trying to redirect the conversation to easier topics. </div>
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Driving home I realized something. Most of the people who say these awkward things are not trying to be rude. These comments are not really about ME and my kids <i>at all</i> - these comments are revelations about what is going on in the heart and the home of the speaker. People who blurt these things out are basically confessing that they are struggling with parenthood so much that they can't imagine it being any harder than it already is. These are people who are not enjoying family life the way they hoped they would. If their experience of parenting was mostly sunshine and butterflies, they would hardly be surprised that anyone would pursue <i>more</i> sunshine or <i>additional</i> butterflies. These are people who need encouragement. Badly. As do I (often!!) I know some parents of large families like to coin ruder responses to these unintentionally "rude" comments, but really this is a huge opportunity to <i>give</i> to someone else and to encourage. It's hypocritical to do anything else. Why pretend to be shocked by the implication that parenting is incredibly burdensome? It is! I've got plenty of friends with lots of kids and we regularly exchange frazzled texts when we are at our wits' ends with our kids. And these aren't texts like:</div>
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"Oh, golly - today sure is a challenging day with my dozen little blessings :) :)"</div>
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No. </div>
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I've sent abundant texts along the lines of: </div>
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"Today I would sell any one of them to the lowest bidder." </div>
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But we encourage each other. We empathize, encourage and pray for each other. We recommend good parenting and marriage books. We share the graces we're being given and help each other to grow. We brainstorm together about our most frustrating challenges. We keep each other committed to growing into patient, kind, gentle, joyful, wise mothers instead of just settling into resentful mediocrity. We laugh (sometimes through tears) about our colossal screw-ups - but we also hold each other accountable for trying better next time. Some parents maybe don't have that kind of support. Some parents reach that inevitable point in parenting where you realize that you stink at being a parent and they just give up. They lose the joy of it all - the sense of gift. The bulk of their parenting consists of feeling frustrated, angry, exhausted or overwhelmed. They lose hope that they can grow as a parent and change the dynamic in the home. Instead, they decide that kids are overrated or that <u>they've</u> got uniquely difficult kids or too many kids or they decide that they just don't personally enjoy parenting - or that they had their kids too close together - or they were too young when they started having kids - or too old - or that family life is not what they imagined it would be........... and they decide it's too late to change themselves and it's too late to change their kids and to just hope instead that "childhood" passes as quickly as possible and that the kids grow up fast - meanwhile they will look for fulfillment and pleasure in career or hobbies or anywhere other than the little terrors who they simultaneously love and endure. The art man must have said three different times tonight that he just can't wait for his kids to get older so that he can be done with these challenging years. That always makes me sad to hear. I cling to these years. But I'd feel quite differently if I didn't have the support and encouragement that I do have. </div>
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So - I wish I had just heard this guy's heart tonight. I was so busy in my head thinking about what I should SAY (other people were listening! I felt like a freak!) - and mostly what I said was just a bunch of meaningless cliches and bland pleasantries and pathetic attempts to "normalize" the conversation. Instead, I wish I'd just heard him out about what was so hard with his three boys. I have no idea why I didn't just ask him about his life instead of trying to force the conversation into vaguer and more superficial waters. I wish I hadn't fled from the topic. I wish I'd asked good questions and really listened to his answers. I probably would have had no words of wisdom, nor perhaps would it have been appropriate to have offered any, but I definitely could have empathized sincerely with how hard parenting can be. He clearly wanted to talk about it - he was the one who kept steering the conversation back to the inconceivability of five children and the overwhelming and draining experience of life with three sons. If nothing else, I could have prayed for him. Well, I still can do that. But next time, I hope I do the other things too. I think now that I understand it better, I just may be able to do so. And..... perhaps.....perhaps it would be best to start planning ahead NOW for even bigger and wilder reactions to a hypothetical sixth child......</div>
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(<i>sound of Richard fainting)</i></div>
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<br />kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12330870507513975314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5288012174354374564.post-43405310382148829322014-10-05T15:38:00.005-07:002014-10-05T15:39:16.113-07:00Resurrection Pegs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
While I wait to produce the newest child, I've been keeping busy producing this Resurrection play set for the four kids I've already got. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The "full cast" - minus Simon of Cyrene and the Apostle John, neither of whom have been painted yet.</td></tr>
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plus 2 women who will double as women Jesus encountered on the Way of the Cross <br />
and women who discovered His empty tomb on Easter. </td></tr>
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I'm not sure I am really "keeping a blog" anymore....in fact, I rather think I am not. </div>
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However, I didn't want it to end on the rather bleak note of the last post. This pregnancy was better psychologically than most past ones, perhaps due to a combination of intercession, community and acupuncture. And it ends in 4 days, if not sooner, as I have an induction scheduled for the end of this week. So - perhaps the last post ought to be some newborn photos, instead of pictures of some paint and wood :)</div>
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<br />kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12330870507513975314noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5288012174354374564.post-67828642992163404272014-03-29T19:17:00.001-07:002014-03-29T19:41:49.160-07:00NOT a pathetic wuss?!?! (maybe just less so than previously thought)Wow, time flies when you're taking care of four little people...while pregnant! Despite (or because of) all of my mediocre attempts at holy resignation about not having that fifth child any time soon....there is, indeed, a fifth child currently on backorder and due to be delivered this autumn. And despite (or because of) my intense longing for this child, it has been a dark, dark, first trimester. A few weeks ago I failed my prenatal depression screening (with flying colors) but managed to talk the OB staff into giving me two weeks to pull it together before starting medication.<br />
<br />
Prenatal depression is something I never heard of before I heard <i>I had it</i>. Postpartum Depression (which I am blessed <u>never</u> to have experienced) gets all the attention. While pregnant (and miserable) with Maria, Bernadette and Joseph, I blamed myself for being such a wuss - I was disgusted with myself for allowing a little physical discomfort to send me into such emotional darkness. I thought it was just<b> <u>immense self-pity</u></b>. I thought it was an inability to suffer well through nausea, vomiting, fatigue, sleeplessness, hyperactive bladder, painful veins, physical awkwardness (and the 24/7 discomfort of late pregnancy). I thought I was REALLY pathetic. I was ashamed of myself and envious/skeptical of women who seemed to breeze through pregnancy with such chipper spirits.<br />
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It wasn't until I was pregnant with James that I even started to wonder if it could be "real" depression. I'd heard so much about Postpartum Depression - I finally began to wonder if it had a cousin who attacked before birth and departed in the Labor and Delivery Suite. I certainly had never heard anything about it before - but I did begin to suspect it might exist. It wasn't until my midwife diagnosed me with prenatal depression a month or two prior to James' due date that someone else confirmed that suspicion. But still....I wasn't <u>sure</u> I "really" had it. I still wondered if I was just a wuss. A big, selfish, immature, pathetic<i> wuss</i>.<br />
<br />
I also wondered if perhaps it was because I was always pregnant <i>alone. </i>Rich and I have moved so many times (seven times during our eight married years) that, despite an amazing network of call-on-the-phone girlfriends, I have always been bereft of <u>physical,</u> <u>in-the-flesh</u> <u>community</u> during the magnificently uncomfortable third trimester of every single pregnancy. While "third trimester pregnant" with Maria and James, I literally had not a single friend in town yet - that's how newly moved we were. When entering my infamously sad third trimesters with Bernadette and Joseph, I did have wonderful women around me, but I had known them so briefly - just a few months - that it was too hard to be so real about how I was coping (or failing to cope). <br />
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But this time was going to be different. There are so many great women around me this time, women I have known well for over a year and with whom I can be very real. Plus, I was going to brace myself to suffer heroically. I knew it would come, so I was reading the outstanding <i>Diary of Elisabeth Leseur</i> for inspiration and tips on how to suffer physical discomfort with valor. I was praying in advance. I was letting my friends know that I might need a little extra company over the next few months. I was totally prepared to fight my pathetic-ness and win. And then....I had a little nausea, a teeny bit of fatigue - just enough to reassure me that I was really pregnant but not enough to even inconvenience me - and I crashed harder than ever before. <i>With no physical suffering at all</i>. And only then did I realize I was blaming myself for something totally out of my control.<br />
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As the first trimester now draws to an end, I feel much more like my old self. I had assured the kind women at the OB office that I was usually f-i-n-e during the second trimester and they agreed to give me a few weeks to prove it. They also did some blood work and found some vitamin deficiencies - which means that supplements might possibly get me to the point that I can handle whatever the third trimester throws at me. Maybe. If at all possible, I want to avoid medication because of the <u>possible</u> adverse effects on this unborn child. However, there will be <u>definite</u> adverse effects on all four "born" children under this roof - and, more abundantly, upon their wonderful father - if this third trimester is anything like some of the dark trimesters of the past. I take both considerations seriously.<br />
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I wanted to write this post because I never knew about prenatal depression until recently - and it would have made my husband and children MUCH happier if I had known about it years ago. Maybe now someone else who needed to know about it knows too..... Her husband and children can thank me by praying for me :) <br />
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<br />kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12330870507513975314noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5288012174354374564.post-26787002739310050092014-01-25T20:44:00.001-08:002014-01-25T20:44:44.443-08:00parables in real lifeMy kids have been playing a super-fun game of "pass the bug" for, oh about two weeks now. They're playing Advanced Level, so there are multiple bugs in play. We've hauled the whole gang to the pediatrician twice, carted dehydrated and listless victims off to the ER both weekends and we've chatted with pediatric nurses almost daily. Some of the bugs have been named by various physicians: ear infections, bronchitis, croup, viral gastroenteritis, norovirus, rotavirus, upper respiratory viruses.... We've had Standard Daily Fevers in the 103 range and our fridge looks like a pharmacy. To those whose phone calls and texts and emails I have not returned - this is why and I am sorry. <br />
<br />
We're wiped out.<br />
<br />
Today a pediatric nurse (on the phone) was concerned that Bernadette might be showing symptoms of meningitis. Just for a change of scenery, I decided to bring her in to a different hospital than the one we've been frequenting. There was nothing "wrong" at the original hospital, per se. Well, ok, the floors were filthy, the nurses hit-or-miss and one PA gave my 2 year old son a drug that our pediatrician later said ought never to be used in children due to possible psychiatric side effects. So rather than buzz two miles down the road to our neighborhood ER, I drove over to the next town to give their hospital a go. I'm so glad I did.<br />
<br />
We walked in to cleanliness, friendliness and competence. There was an air of order and peace in the Department, our room was immaculate, the staff were remarkably kind, and Bernadette did not have meningitis. All very good things! And the last two are<i> almost </i>on par with one another.<br />
<br />
Every person employed in the department was strikingly attentive, gentle and <i>loving. </i>Really, there is no other word I can use to describe the way they treated the two of us. Two receptionists, the triage nurse, the follow-up nurse and the doctor - all, stunningly, <i>loving. </i>The grand finale, though, awaited us when we "checked out". A sweet, gentle grandmotherly woman double checked all our insurance and billing information. Then she said, "Your insurance copay for today is $150, but we realize that not everybody has pots of money laying around, so you can just pay whatever you feel able to, or nothing at all."<br />
<br />
I thought I had misunderstood her.<br />
<br />
"Oh, so whatever I don't pay right now, you'll just send me a bill in the mail?"<br />
<br />
No. That was not what she meant. What she meant was that I would pay what I felt able to pay and there would be no further responsibility towards my copayment.<br />
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I'm still not really sure that I am properly understanding her meaning. I have no idea if this policy is a reflection of the hospital's mission statement to treat patients in a way "rooted in our understanding of all people as created in the image of God." Maybe it has something to do with Obamacare. Maybe it's some kind of battle that hospitals and insurance companies wage between themselves. Or perhaps I'm just "not getting it" and missing something really obvious here. I do that. Often. But the minute I understood that she was apparently freeing me from any obligation to pay for the outstanding care my sick child had just received, <i>I wanted to pay every blessed cent. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I could have satisfied my conscience with paying far less. I had neither cash nor check on me. I did have my debit card, but I knew that there was only $25 in our checking account, with no more funds imminently available. So I dug my one credit card out of the depths of my wallet and handed it over. She looked at it for a moment and then handed it back, asking gently, "Am I reading this small print right? Does it say this card expired in August?"<br />
<br />
It did say that. Alas. I was humiliated. I admitted as much and explained that I hadn't used it or even looked at since long before it expired. In the softest, most motherly tone possible, she sweetly said that she was glad I never used credit cards and she was doubly glad this event had not occurred when I was trying to pay for a cart full of groceries. <i>Oh my gosh. So was I!</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
As the direct result of her efforts to smooth over my mortification and brush it all away as unimportant, I suddenly found myself now wanting to pay <i>double</i>. I felt so <u>grateful</u> to this tender old soul, to all the other staff we had seen during our visit, and to the hospital philosophy that had so clearly imparted this priceless charity into the attitudes of its employees. I wanted to make that gratitude abundantly clear. I wanted to repay it. I told her to send me the bill. I almost begged her to.<br />
<br />
And then a truth I have long held came rushing into my heart once more:<br />
<i>That which is demanded can never be freely given.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I know that the hospital has a right to demand money for its services. This is about something bigger and deeper than the hospital. This is about the human heart being free to respond to goodness with goodness - this is about the soul's natural (if sometimes slow) desire to repay generosity with generosity. So often it does not get the chance. So often repayment is <u>demanded</u>. Immediately. Before the natural impulse can arise, take shape and act.<br />
<br />
The demand <i>kills</i> the natural instinct. Do it enough in a relationship and it can kill the gratitude instinct altogether.<br />
<br />
I do this with my kids - hand them something good and then, before their little minds can even compose any kind of sincere expression of thanks, I demand, "What do you <i>say?" </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I do this with my husband - perform some little service or sacrifice for him, and then, before he really has time to process the love that prompted the favor, I <i>demand </i>acknowledgment. <i> Did you notice that I put the trash out tonight? Did you see that I bought you a case of your favorite beer? </i>I may say this very lightly - casually - even lovingly - but the demand is hidden there. <i>Say thank you. Feel grateful. Repay me. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
That which is demanded can never be freely given.<br />
<br />
Isn't that the key to the mystery of our free will?<br />
<br />
What is demanded cannot be freely given.<br />
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And that which is freely given is so much sweeter than that which is extracted by demand.<br />
It's sweeter for the giver and for the recipient.<br />
The payment of an extracted demand satisfies the cashier at the store, but not the person in relationship.<br />
<br />
I'll pay the hospital bills for Joseph because the hospital will demand that I do so. The law of the land and my own private sense of justice will ensure that I do so. But it will not be sweet. For either side.<br />
<br />
I'll pay the hospital bills for Bernadette because the hospital lavished love upon us and made no demand in return. Some profound, beautiful natural law will prompt me to do so. <i>And</i> I will write a heartfelt note to the hospital. It will be so sweet to me to be able to do so. I hope and believe it will be so sweet for the recipients as well.<br />
<br />
I hope that I will more consistently live the moral so eloquently proclaimed to me this evening in the Parable of the Two Hospitals. I hope that with my family, my friends, my acquaintances and with strangers, I will be governed by the truth that <i>that which is demanded can never be freely given. </i>I hope I can let go of my petty demands and enjoy the sweetness of unprompted gratitude. And I hope that I can grow in my ability to express gratitude - abundantly and sincerely - towards those who demand, towards those who rarely demand, and towards the One who <i>never</i> demands.<br />
<br />kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12330870507513975314noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5288012174354374564.post-32819744232413269552014-01-17T19:06:00.004-08:002014-01-17T20:19:37.433-08:00another<u>Kelly - </u><br />
<br />
October 2013: ANOTHER !?!?!?!!<br />
<br />
November 2013: another....?<br />
<br />
December 2013: another......<br />
<br />
January 2014: <i>another. another. another. another..... </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<u>Rich - </u><br />
<br />
October 2013: ANOTHER !?!?!?!?!!<br />
<br />
November 2013: ANOTHER !?!?!?!?!!<br />
<br />
December 2013: ANOTHER !?!?!?!?!!<br />
<br />
January 2014: ANOTHER !?!?!?!?!!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lbqnr9X4Atc/Utn2c6yMpZI/AAAAAAAAAVo/2acXEirgiKw/s1600/IMG_3731.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lbqnr9X4Atc/Utn2c6yMpZI/AAAAAAAAAVo/2acXEirgiKw/s1600/IMG_3731.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Exhibit A</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
James turned one early in November. He's old enough to have worn a tie to Christmas Eve Mass<i> (see Exhibit A)</i>. So....I should be almost three months pregnant right now, had we followed the Standard Sealy Family Plan For Family Expansion. But I'm not three months pregnant right now. I'm not one month pregnant. I'm not even one day pregnant. <i>And oh how I begin to wish I was. </i>But, as the handy chart above shows, Rich and I are still in the negotiations process - and we are <u>not</u> swiftly moving in the same direction.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sP642TmnKXg/Utn2dprKY9I/AAAAAAAAAV4/9aaOFLqZL0E/s1600/IMG_3799.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sP642TmnKXg/Utn2dprKY9I/AAAAAAAAAV4/9aaOFLqZL0E/s1600/IMG_3799.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a head wound that already made him look like The Boy Who Lived<br />
just begged to be finished off with a marker</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
I've been in this place before - a place where my prayers cannot help but start with that one wistful word: <i>another. </i>But for the very first time, my prayers are not ending on the same expansive note. Because.... I'm not sure that they are likely to be answered as per my exact wishes any time soon, and I'm trying hard to accept that. Though I would be tremendously glad for the gift of another baby, my husband would <u>reeeeeeeally</u> not - so..... I'm trying very hard to remind myself that <i>I already have a baby. </i>He doesn't even have hair yet. Well, ok, he has some completely ridiculously cute curls on the back of his head, but he's still practically bald up top. He's in diapers. And a high chair. He's nursing. And spoon-fed. He barely talks, except to say <i>Hi-dah! (Hi Cat!)</i> and <i>Cook-Cook (</i>As in "<i>cookie". </i>As in "<i>I saw you eat that cookie and if you don't give ME a cookie in the next 13 seconds I am going to make the next half hour absolutely miserable for every.person.in.this.house."). </i>He also says <i>Genk-oo (Thank You. For the Cookie.) </i>and when Rich gets home from work, he RUNS trippingly and unsteadily to the door with outstretched arms and lovingly, joyfully, <span style="font-size: large;">exuberantly</span> calls to his beloved father,<br />
<u><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>MaMa !!!</i></span></u><br />
<u><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><br /></i></span></u>
<u><br /></u><i>(We're working on that. Hard. Well, Rich is - I think it is hi-larious).</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<u><br /></u>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-R4BFE_8yJ6k/Utn2bTAUgeI/AAAAAAAAAVk/t2rvAkMebHA/s1600/IMG_3681.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-R4BFE_8yJ6k/Utn2bTAUgeI/AAAAAAAAAVk/t2rvAkMebHA/s1600/IMG_3681.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<u><br /></u>
<br />
He's only two months past his first birthday. He's a baby. I HAVE a baby.<br />
<br />
But every time I find myself in a moment of silence and solitude - every time I turn my gaze on God - my heart whispers it - "<i>another". </i>I can't help it. There are PLENTY of moments of noise and chaos and near-disaster (and actual disaster) each day when <i>another</i> seems like a perfectly foolhardy design, but in the quieter moments, the desire is anything but foolhardy.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-A_kMcrl8BB0/Utn2a-bR5MI/AAAAAAAAAVc/CmL4tqkQuJA/s1600/IMG_3495.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-A_kMcrl8BB0/Utn2a-bR5MI/AAAAAAAAAVc/CmL4tqkQuJA/s1600/IMG_3495.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(10 AM. disaster. idea seems foolhardy. extremely.)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oSSL6FjbXfc/Utn2a1vJglI/AAAAAAAAAVg/axcEdXlb8Ns/s1600/IMG_3500.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oSSL6FjbXfc/Utn2a1vJglI/AAAAAAAAAVg/axcEdXlb8Ns/s1600/IMG_3500.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1 PM. idea appears far less foolhardy <br />
( or at least slightly more sensible than napping with a toothbrush in hand)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Last night I was unable to sleep, sitting up in bed in the dark and staring out my window. Snow was falling heavily and my eyes were mesmerized by the sight of it streaming past a streetlight. I was mentally going over all sorts of things and then.... <i>Another. Jesus, another. </i><br />
<br />
I caught myself (almost in time) and surrendered the desire (again). Suddenly, for the first time in my whole life, I wondered if Mary ever had to surrender that desire....to be pregnant again, to labor again, to hold a brand-new infant again, to see a gummy first smile again, to fill up the home further, to add another little face around the dinner table, to hear one more layer of laughter around the house and enjoy one additional source of silly faces and earnest expressions and tight hugs. Did she ever find her heart whispering <i>another? </i><br />
<br />
But how could there ever be <i>Another </i>for <i>her?</i> <br />
<br />
Another virgin birth? Another star-drenched angelic host? Another magi? Another <u>child divine</u>?<br />
<br />
<i>Another</i> was impossible.<br />
<i><br /></i>
Mothers aren't supposed to have favorites, but<i> how could it be helped </i>if the First Child was <i>God</i> and the others were just.....<i>ordinary</i>.<i> </i>No. Mary had to be satisfied with Just One. More than satisfied, she had to be humbled and grateful and overjoyed beyond telling. She had to submit to her vocation <i>as He had shaped it</i>, trusting that His designs were best for her, best for her Child, best for her family, best for the world. She had to pour herself completely into what <i>had been</i> given her without broodingly longing for anything other or additional. She had to live in the moment, surrender completely and accept whatever unfolded in the life of her Family with total trust in the goodness of God's (often surprising and always challenging) plan.<br />
<br />
As do I.<br />
<br />
<i>As do I.</i><br />
<br />
<br />kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12330870507513975314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5288012174354374564.post-13100590301173366652013-12-25T20:51:00.001-08:002013-12-25T21:33:32.090-08:00"holy feelings"<div style="text-align: center;">
For a couple of years now, this one line from <i>O Holy Night</i> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
has been my richest food for Christmas contemplation.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #38761d;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #38761d;">Long lay the world</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #38761d;"> in sin and error pining</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #38761d;">'til He appeared </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #38761d;">and the soul felt its worth. </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
This year I was seized by something new, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
a longer meditation from <i>What Child is This? </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-size: large;"><u>Why</u></span> lies He in such <span style="font-size: large;"><u>mean estate</u></span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #660000;">where ox and ass are feeding?</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #660000; font-size: large;"><b><u>Good Christian, fear -</u></b></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #660000; font-size: large;"><b><u>for sinners here the silent Word lies pleading.</u></b></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #660000; font-size: large;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #660000;"><u><span style="font-size: large;">Nails, spear shall pierce Him through</span>, </u></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #660000;">the cross be borne for me, for you.</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #660000;">Hail, hail the Word made flesh, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #660000;">the Babe, the Son of Mary.</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #660000;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #660000;">This, this is Christ the King, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #660000;">whom shepherds guard and angels sing. </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-size: large;"><u>Haste, haste</u></span> to bring Him laud, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #660000;">the Babe, the Son of Mary. </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #660000;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #660000;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I've been quite content to have these verses stuck in my head for days, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
to be thought over at every prayerful opportunity</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(and to be sung aloud whenever I'm <u>certain</u> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
no one can overhear my near-perfect imitation </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
of a musically-inclined dying cow in the stable at Bethlehem.)<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
Why <i>is </i>He in a stable, for goodness sake?!<br />
<br />
fear.... thoughtful consideration should lead to trembling....<br />
<br />
the<u> silent Word</u> is <u>pleading</u>.....<br />
<br />
beloved baby, tortured and nailed to a cross three decades later = maternal nightmare<br />
<br />
Word made flesh.<br />
<br />
flesh.....<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
For days, it's been the<span style="font-size: large;"> <u>big</u></span> words in the first 2 verses that have most attracted my thoughts;</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
tonight it is simply the word <i>haste</i> and the urgency attached to the act of praise.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
In all the rushing around before, during and "after"<span style="color: red;">*</span> Christmas, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
the only priority about which it is worthwhile to make haste </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
is beelining to spend time in the presence of the Infant.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Can one even imagine the shepherds hearing the angelic tidings of a newborn Saviour </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and NOT rushing immediately to see Him?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Could they have <i>moseyed</i> over to Bethlehem? </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Could they have procrastinated, done some other things first,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(and then after doing those things, ended up being too tired/sleepy/wiped out?)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
No! A thousand times No!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
My goodness, the things that I felt necessary to do <i>before </i>spending time adoring baby Jesus</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
last night, this morning, today....</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red;">*</span> <span style="color: red;">T</span><span style="color: red;">hank God that Christmas is <i>not </i>over.</span> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Thank God that tomorrow is Christmas, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and the next day, and the day after.....</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Because I want to do this better tomorrow. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Tomorrow I want to truly <i>make haste</i> to His side. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Tonight, at 8pm, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
when I finally carved out a nice big chunk of time from my celebration of Christ's birth </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
so that I could think about and pay attention to Christ,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I drove over to our church and entered our little Adoration chapel. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I waited and waited and waited for some appropriately <i>holy feelings </i>to come. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
A rush of joy....a little wonder...some otherworldly peace....</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Nothing. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I tried to force some out - to squeeze <i>something</i> up out of the depths of my soul.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Nada. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Then I felt the Lord asking me, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>What are you looking for? What is it you are seeking? </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Kelly - what do you want? What exactly is this "holy feeling" you desire?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I didn't have a clue. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Seriously - I could have asked the Lord to make me feel anything at all, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
but actually.... I really didn't have the foggiest idea of what it was that I wanted. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
After considering it for a few minutes, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I think I sort of wanted to feel a little like one of those shepherds, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
after they saw the angel(s) and rushed (making haste) to the stable and saw the Holy Family</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(but not <i>exactly </i>like one of them). </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And I knew that experiencing that <i>particular </i>cocktail of fear, wonder, joy, confusion and awe </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
was not the gift that the Lord meant to give me tonight. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Instead, He gently led me to remember my first nights </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>utterly alone</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
with each of my four newborns. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Maria.....</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>...and the "little kid first thing on Christmas morning" feeling </i><i>I had </i><br />
<i>every time the nurse woke me up in the hospital that first night of her life</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>and I would drowsily remember that<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> </span></i><u><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I have a baby!</span></u><i> and be suddenly and exuberantly WIDE AWAKE!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I remember most the perfect JOY.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Bernadette.....</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>....who slept very little that night she was born, choosing instead to </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>stare peacefully into my reciprocating eyes almost the entire night.</i><br />
<i>I didn't even feel sleepy. She had the most stunningly beautiful, soulful, dark, dark eyes I had ever</i><br />
<i> (and have ever) seen.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I remember most the perfect PEACE.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Joseph....</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>....who was under six pounds at discharge and seemed so </i><i><u>very</u> tiny and vulnerable </i><i>to me, </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>especially since he was too sleepy to nurse at all. I had to feed him hand-expressed milk, in his sleep, through a syringe - for the first week or more of his life. I remember puzzling over the mystery of his incredibly tiny, fragile body, marvelling that an entire, functioning human person could fit into barely more than five pounds. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I remember most the sense of profound WONDER & AWE.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>James....</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>...who was slightly more than 8.5 pounds and such an endearingly fat leprechaun of newborn, with a full ginger beard, red sideburns, and chunks of vernix oozing out of every single one of his abundant chubby rolls. From first sight, he made the nurses laugh, his parents laugh, his siblings laugh. There was such a </i><u>crew</u><i> to come and take him home, to give him the warmest welcome to our family and to laugh at and encourage him in everything he has accomplished this past year. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I remember most the outpouring of LOVE.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
My most precious, most sacred memories are these:</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
my very first night with each child.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Each of those four nights was spent in the most intimate solitude - </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
just tiny newborn and mother. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Tonight, for the first time ever, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I just pictured Mary<u> alone</u> with Jesus on <i>their</i> first night together.<br />
No angels. No shepherds. No Joseph.<br />
No one. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Unlike Richard, Joseph did not have to kiss the newborn hello, make his wife comfortable and then hurry back to Nazareth to take care of the toddler and pre-school aged older siblings of the new baby.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But perhaps he left the stable for a half hour to find food or water for his wife. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Maybe she sent him out for the 1 AD equivalent of nappies. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Maybe he just had to use the potty himself.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Surely at some point on that <u>very first night</u>, mother and infant enjoyed perfect solitude.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>JOY. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>PEACE. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>WONDER & AWE.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> LOVE.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I tasted, not Mary's own experience, but the remembrance of a shadow of her experience. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Sacred too. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And I left the chapel suddenly aware that producing some allegedly "holy feelings" </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
was <i>not </i>an act of perfect worship.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>Desiring</u> to give perfect worship <i>was.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
make haste....</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;"> Venite Adoremus.</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12330870507513975314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5288012174354374564.post-25370831749359973412013-12-24T09:25:00.000-08:002013-12-24T09:25:18.204-08:00saints<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
The saint peg swap was a success! </div>
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One John Paul II peg got lost, so I painted my own as a replacement. </div>
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The kids were given their pegs as an early Christmas present this morning (Christmas Eve)</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bernadette lining up the freshly opened saint pegs</td></tr>
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Here's the gang! Each one was painted by a different woman in town. </div>
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A <i>good Catholic </i>should be able to identify every one :) </div>
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jk</div>
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<span style="color: #660000; font-size: large;">Merry Christmas!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #660000; font-size: large;">May the infant Jesus, who found no room in the inn at His birth, </span></div>
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<span style="color: #660000; font-size: large;">be given generous room in your heart and time this Christmas. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #660000; font-size: large;">I pray the Lord will bless you with many graces this Christmas</span></div>
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<span style="color: #660000; font-size: large;">and may your feasting be holy, peaceful and fun!</span></div>
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<br />kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12330870507513975314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5288012174354374564.post-29863995827967973102013-12-11T09:58:00.001-08:002013-12-11T09:58:49.948-08:00preparing little hearts for Christmas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
They're done! </div>
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I had so much fun doing this project. </div>
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It was an awesome quiet, reflective project to dive into for Advent. </div>
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Holy Family</div>
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Angels</div>
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(my girls flipped over the "real" feathers)</div>
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shepherds & shepherdess & little peasant girl</div>
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(I got ridiculously involved in crafting a "good shepherd")</div>
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magi and drummer boy</div>
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And after working our way through all our favorite Christmas books</div>
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plus some new library loans this year, </div>
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the kids know <i>exactly</i> what to do with the new Nativity pieces. </div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jb80jQOLlhU/UqilDctZFpI/AAAAAAAAAR0/nASUCgWU9Ik/s1600/IMG_3588.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jb80jQOLlhU/UqilDctZFpI/AAAAAAAAAR0/nASUCgWU9Ik/s640/IMG_3588.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i><u><span style="font-size: large;">Sealy Kids' Top Picks:</span></u></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">Room For a Little One</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">Little One, We Knew You'd Come</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">This is the Star</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">How the Grinch Stole Christmas</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">The Crippled Lamb</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">The Fourth Wise Man</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">The Christmas Miracle of Jonathan Toomey</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">Christmas (straight Scripture with intriguing illustrations by Jan Pienkowski)</span></i></div>
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<br />kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12330870507513975314noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5288012174354374564.post-72003016239717837842013-12-02T13:50:00.004-08:002013-12-02T16:02:32.046-08:00maggot ladyThe elusive "tidy home". I hardly know a woman (or <i><u>married</u> </i>man<i>) </i>who does not bewail disorder and mess in the house - in degrees exponentially linked to the population per capita of the home (particularly when some of those little<i> "</i>capitas" are toothless and toddling). Women's blogs are split between those who champion traditional (and perfect) homemaking skills - and those who insist that <i>it doesn't matter - your true friends love you even if your house is a mess. </i>While I'm sure that's true, it is nevertheless an act of service and consideration towards family and friends to offer a comfortable, clean, attractive place for eating, relaxing and recreating. Good stewardship of our material blessings means, in part, keeping them in a condition that makes it pleasant for others to use them. No matter how many times the rebellious modern insistence resounds, there is something in most of us that inherently loves a clean, orderly home. No one enjoys sticking to the kitchen floor. No one likes to find cat hair in the freezer. No one delights in stepping on a Lego in the dark. I think it's got something to do with the human attraction to the Transcendentals: Truth, Goodness and Beauty. We live in a beautiful, well-ordered universe and something of that is inscribed in the heart's desire regarding indoor living spaces as well. Except the hearts of two year olds. I think it's something that must grow in later, like wisdom teeth.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How <i>I</i> like the library books to be arranged.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How Joseph likes the library books to be arranged.</td></tr>
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I find in myself two principals at war:<br />
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On the one hand, there is a neurotic impulse towards perfection - an uptight or even resentful attitude of heart that places things above people. I can become impatient with my kids because I want the house to look <i>just so</i> and they <u>ruin it!</u> Or I can be tense and controlling simply because of the way they are interacting (or might interact) with <i>things. </i>That unhospitable determination to keep a nice, pleasant home can instead make it really <i>unpleasant </i> to live in my home. Rather than using things to make people comfortable, I can sometimes make people uncomfortable on account of things. That's exactly the opposite of good stewardship, good hospitality, good homemaking and good motherhood.<br />
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On the other hand....I'm busy. <i>Too busy with more important things to waste my life mopping a floor that will need to be mopped again in approximately 32 minutes. </i>Or I'm tempted at times to write myself a pass for the next - oh, ten years - because <i>I've got a lot of little kids! No one could keep a neat house with four little kids! </i><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Keeping up with this particular area is a losing battle.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These trucks have a wicker basket "home"<i> </i>but my boys prefer to park them around <br />
(and on top of....and inside of) the fish tank.</td></tr>
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Virtue, being the middle of two extremes, finds a balance. Kelly, being in need of a Plan, found <i>Fly Lady</i>. I liked the idea of <i>Fly Lady</i> - you don't try to clean the whole house on one set day; instead she sends you an email every day giving you marching orders for the day's housework. Housework is broken up in little pieces that follow a repeating cycle. I tried it in New Zealand, but her system did not work in my house, for many reasons. So I created a baby version - <i>Maggot Lady</i>, if you will.<br />
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I wrote out my normal weekly routines (grocery day, tutoring day, errands day, etc....) and distinguished between days that tended to be less demanding versus those that tend to be more demanding. On the "easier" days, I assigned myself housekeeping tasks that would be more involved. On the busier days, I assigned fewer, faster or more flexible tasks. The result: a manageable weekly routine that allows me to keep the house liveable with minimal effort.<br />
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Monday: dust, sweep, mop & vacuum - entire house<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wj7c2wmJnDQ/Upzzc7fjruI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/Zt_WJtkek8o/s1600/IMG_3522.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wj7c2wmJnDQ/Upzzc7fjruI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/Zt_WJtkek8o/s200/IMG_3522.JPG" width="200" /></a> 1 hour maximum<br />
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Tuesday: deep clean kitchen<br />
30-45 minutes<br />
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Wednesday: tidy up a "random area"<br />
(alternates between car, garage,<br />
basement, mudroom/laundry area)<br />
15-30 minutes<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xu4gQd3wT8/UpzzcwtcxOI/AAAAAAAAARA/yCAH6Y9xrIU/s1600/IMG_3523.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Xu4gQd3wT8/UpzzcwtcxOI/AAAAAAAAARA/yCAH6Y9xrIU/s200/IMG_3523.jpg" width="150" /></a>Thursday: pay bills & sort paperwork. <br />
5-20 minutes <br />
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Friday: declutter. tackle piles and put things where they really belong.<br />
throw out <i>stuff</i> and add <i>stuff </i>to the give-away bags.<br />
also, organize <i>something</i> (a closet, a shelf, a room)<br />
15 - 60 minutes<br />
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Saturday: deep clean bathrooms, change bedlinens & towels<br />
45 - 60 minutes<br />
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Sunday: Sabbath rest<br />
24 hours<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">8 am, right after breakfast</td></tr>
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Two years later, the house is pretty consistently "good enough". There are days and weeks when it is <u>really bad</u>, but most of the time, it's just a matter of keeping on top of the daily crisis areas, the things that spiral completely out of control without daily attention: laundry, dishes, toys and crumbs. These tasks add about another 60 minutes of work per day, but it's spread evenly throughout the day in small bits - and these tasks are also very generously shared with the little people who help create the need for them:)</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Less than two hours later....</td></tr>
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I have a strong daily routine for when to cook dinner, when to read to the kids, when to pray, and when to brush my teeth (the important things!) and a much looser weekly schedule for my evenings - one night is for grading papers, one is for a Holy Hour, one is a "date night" with Richard, one is "family board games", etc.... Basically, I've realized that<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">if something is important to me, <u>I need to schedule it</u> or it may not happen</span><span style="font-size: large;">.</span> Life is busy and the urgent, the immediate (and the internet) will swallow all my time unless I have already dedicated portions of it to what I value or what will contribute most to the sense of well-being in my life. <i>Disciplining myself to follow a routine that I have created is not nearly as hard as living with chaos and the crushing sense that I'm not following through on the things I value.</i><br />
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I share this post not because I have it all together, but because I do <i>not,</i> and I have found the concept of <i>routines</i> to be a great tool for creating order out of the chaos. For me, one of the most stubborn areas of "not growing much" in my vocation is finding balance -for example, between being extravagantly <i>present</i> to my children during the day while also attending to the tasks that need to be done to foster a sense of <i style="font-weight: bold;">order, well-being </i>and<i style="font-weight: bold;"> peace</i> in the home. Slowly establishing routines has been an immense help in growing in discipline, in making sure that certain goals are met <i>and</i> <u>in making sure that other goals do not completely take over.</u> And that's something that anyone can benefit from, regardless of gender or vocation.<br />
<br />kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12330870507513975314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5288012174354374564.post-89310132577397993482013-11-25T07:15:00.002-08:002013-11-25T09:01:16.953-08:00my army is complete<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
The wee folk are finished! I stayed up way too late two nights in a row and loved every minute of this project! I finally decided that (as much as I wanted a "<i>young</i> St. Patrick") he was just just going to look so much more "right" if he had white hair.....</div>
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At first, my white-haired, bearded St Patricks looked like Ninjas. I was near despair. </div>
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Then I found an online tutorial about painting faces and facial hair on peg dolls. Phew. </div>
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The final product looked mostly like this. None of them have their high-gloss spray yet, so they are not as <i>shiny</i> as they will be, but they are otherwise done. Unless....I figure out some way to incorporate some sort of "breastplate" into the doll. But they are probably done.</div>
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Maria wanted to take a picture of me with my completed army and crazy morning hair.</div>
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And she wanted the picture included on the blog..... </div>
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And now I'm in need of a new project.</div>
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Which is why I placed my order yesterday for some more plain wooden pegs. </div>
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For this:</div>
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Actually for this, times two. One set for my kids and one set for my sister's kids. </div>
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Maria really<i> really</i> wanted to help with the St Patricks - and I did not let her - so I am going to let her </div>
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paint some angels and shepherds for this project. I thought we'd do a couple of pieces together each week of Advent and have a complete set by Christmas. Right now I'm thinking big: Mary, Joseph, Jesus, a HOST of angels, a BUNCH of shepherds, shepherdesses and shepherd children, 3 wise men, a drummer boy. I already own several small plastic sheep and a donkey from a Fisher Price nativity play set that my kids used to love to play with so much that I was never allowed to put it away during the non-Christmas seasons of the year. (They ended up losing two kings, the camel, Mary and Joseph in New Zealand, but we still have the animals.) </div>
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Ok, before I end up with more Vaseline on the sofa, or something worse.... Happy Thanksgiving to all! </div>
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<i>(pegs ordered from Casey's Wood Products)</i></div>
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kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12330870507513975314noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5288012174354374564.post-87016091764646031752013-11-22T16:53:00.001-08:002013-11-22T17:52:44.471-08:00st patrick, ad nauseum<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I spent this afternoon painting a Saint Patrick "peg" doll - twenty one times (well, I got started on this massive project anyway). Twenty other women in town will spend the next few weeks doing almost the same thing, only their pegs will be painted into the likes of twenty one Padre Pios, St Agneses and John Paul IIs. Before Christmas there will be peg-painting party and a peg swap. On Christmas morning, there will be a collection under the Christmas tree in twenty one homes. </div>
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This is a fun and inexpensive gift idea, so I thought I'd share it. I've seen superhero pegs, Little House on the Prairie pegs, Old Testament pegs and more. They remind me of my old school Little People (but fraught with far more possibility...) </div>
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<i>How does Kelly have time for projects like this?!</i> you may be wondering. Fair enough. I was perched at the kitchen island. My eldest was assisting me by sorting paintbrushes and lining up unpainted dolls. My baby was playing quite merrily <i>inside </i>the island, clanging muffin tins together.</div>
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We have what I believe is called an "open plan" kitchen (though I would have no clue, really) - basically, my kitchen and family room sort of flow together as one large room. My two middle children (ages 2 and 4) were in the family room where I could both <i>see </i>and <i>hear</i> them as they played quietly together. I could only see the tops of their heads over the back of a sofa, but clearly they were happy getting along and not doing anything remotely dangerous. The house was super tidy. Dinner bubbled in the crockpot. A scented candle glowed in the midst of all. I felt <u>so good</u> about the domestic harmony and peace abounding in my home. </div>
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Suddenly, it all struck me as <i>too </i>good. <u>Far</u> too good. My Spidey-senses started tingling. I knew that I had to see what the heck those two quiet kids were <i>DOING </i>as they huddled together in the family room. </div>
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They were smearing Vaseline and water all over the seat of the new couch. </div>
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I nearly lost my mind.</div>
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<i>St Patrick, pray for them......</i></div>
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Anyway, back on a happier note......I'm trying to decide whether to give St Patrick a beard or not. I think he might end up looking like Jesus if I do give him one. I originally wanted to give him a tonsure but Richard didn't think the tonsure had been invented yet (so in lieu of that 'do, I bestowed the halo). When he's all done, he'll get a spray of high-gloss coating that renders him nearly indestructible to toddler boys. If my boys like these as much as my girls love the fabric saint pegs I made in New Zealand, it will be a very Merry Christmas - <i>if</i> that Vaseline comes out of the sofa.<br />
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<br />kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12330870507513975314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5288012174354374564.post-35472771236436225482013-11-10T19:54:00.003-08:002013-11-10T20:25:36.739-08:00fig leavesMy kids had a lot of friends over this week. It was just that kind of week. On the last day of our playdate marathon, two sisters came over to visit. Both are very young, totally innocent, impeccably polite and super sweet. As their mother shepherded them into the house, the eight year old beamed up at me with a radiant smile and chirped with darling sincerity, "Oh! I like your jeans! I really want tight pants like those." I wanted to crawl under a rock in shame. Sadly, I had no rock immediately available to me.<br />
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Skinny jeans. Christian homeschooling moms. Are these two trends able to harmoniously co-exist? In the "homeschooling Catholic mom" milieu, the skinny jean is <i>not </i>the norm - neither amongst moms, nor amongst their daughters (even the teenage daughters). When skinny jeans first materialized, I was certain I would never own a pair. I thought they looked cheap and desperate. After years of bootcut jeans, bell-bottoms and flares, they struck me as a bit....ridiculous. And that was before I ever imagined I would be seeing them on <i>males. </i>But after Joseph was born, I needed a pair of jeans for that awkward postpartum period in which your maternity pants are too big and your college jeans laugh at you. We were in New Zealand at the time, where leggings and skinny jeans were so uniformly worn that it was difficult to find anything else. I had to choose between skinny jeans and "mom jeans" (<i>you know)</i> and so I bought my first pair of skinny jeans. Initially, I wore them only with long linen shirts and thought very little about it. </div>
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But I have been thinking more about it lately. And by <i>it</i>, I mean <i>modesty. </i>And by <i>modesty</i>, I mean something bigger than and other than "modesty". I mean dignity and femininity and fashion and beauty and goodness. I'm also considering the heavy reality of being a role model (consciously and unconsciously). And I am confused. </div>
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Many days, my husband is the only adult who sees me all day. Most days, he is the only <u>man</u> who does so. He likes my skinny jeans. When I told him (after my sweet tiny guest broke my heart) that I was considering getting rid of them, he was sad. He doesn't want to come home to a frump, nor do I want to look dowdy to him. I know there is a (wide) middle ground between <i>skinny jean</i> and <i>frump</i>, but from the guidelines and example of many champions of modesty, one might not be aware of this truth.<br />
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Giving example is another important consideration to me, hence my distress at having a child want to wear <i>tight jeans just like me</i>. One the one hand, I don't want to be involved with any child wishing to wear something more sexy than the innocuous fashions appropriate to little girls. On the other hand, my daughters already are counting down the days until they can wear all kinds of women's undergarments - and I'm certainly not about to stop wearing <i>those </i>simply because they are too grown-up for my girls. I read a great book a few years ago that mentioned that daughters are not going to listen to their mother's fashion advice if they consider her totally out of sync with what is fashionable. I want to look appealing (and fashionable) to my daughters. Furthermore, I want to look lovely to my <i>sons</i> as well. I am sort of "base neutral woman" for my boys - how I dress will have some influence on their idea of what is pretty and normal and appropriate for women to wear. So I guess the perfect balance is to wear clothing that delights my husband, attracts my daughters' admiration <i>and </i>would not alarm me to see on the girlfriends of my sons as they enter the dating years of their lives. Good grief. </div>
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But there is more. I really believe that a woman's clothing should be inherently beautiful, echoing her own beauty and dignity. Even the most modest women I know <i>rarely </i>wear things that I consider up to this ideal, although I have known a few exceptions. Our contemporary fashions fly in the face of these ideals to the point that it is nearly impossible to find anything both <i>beautiful</i> and <i>dignified</i> <u>for everyday wear</u>. I love pretty skirts and dresses. They are not too hard to find in stores. But I spend all day on the floor with really small children. I literally have to wrestle James into and out of his diapers and change him with my hands while pinning him down by the shoulders with my feet. Every time. True story. And that is just not a graceful moment for the skirt-wearing woman. I'm scrubbing floors on my hands and knees. I'm driving the car. I'm scooping up tantruming toddlers. I'm sitting cross-legged on the couch so that my lap is wide enough to accommodate the three children to whom I spend hours reading <i>and</i> a nursing babe in arms. I can't do my normal daily activities modestly in a skirt, however long or short it might be. I know because I have been around other mothers trying to do these things in skirts and I have seen undies. A lot of undies. "Undies" are pretty much the opposite of "dignity". </div>
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So although I really feel strongly that skirts and dresses are <i>hands-down</i> the most dignified, beautiful choices for women, most days they are not a practical choice for me. That makes me sad, because when I do wear a dress, my Joseph will stop everything he is doing, drop his mouth open and <i>stare</i> at me with unfeigned wonder. Then - very slowly - he'll smile and tell me "Mama! You wook so <i>boo-tee-fuh</i>!" (Sometimes, to change it up, he'll tell me I look "cool".) When your two year old boy looks at you with awe and tells you sincerely that you are beautiful (or cool)... <i>you are. </i>I don't think <u>any</u> man can ever make a woman feel as flawlessly gorgeous as a two year old boy can. For that reason alone I am sad about skirts!</div>
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Jeans (and pants in general) are either <i>too </i>flattering to a woman's bottom or horribly, horribly unflattering (aka "frumpy" - and <i>detracting mightily</i> from her dignity). Plus there is the ubiquitously pesky issue of peek-y butt cleavage. This is a widespread issue even for Christian butts, mothers or no, homeschooling or not. The only solution to these pants issues is long, long shirts. And that brings us back to the skinny jean: once you have on a long, long top, I wonder if there is any difference between the skinny jean and the bell-bottom? I fail to find any substantial difference, other than how snugly the material fits against the calf. The calf is often covered by enormous boots over the skinny jean. The calf is often exposed or encased in tights when skirts are worn. At this point I become frustrated and disgusted with the entire modesty debate. It begins to seem like a very small, ridiculous, petty, hairsplitting concern when contrasted with the larger issues in the world and with my own sins against charity. </div>
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I'm not saying that modesty is a small, petty issue. It deserves attention. Some attention. When it gets too much attention, it becomes a source of vanity, pride and uncharitable judgments. Modest dress is a tricky thing to balance in our fashion culture. We don't have beautiful universal standards as in the days of graceful hoopskirts and dainty shifts. We must assume that the Christian women we know are doing the best they can given their awareness and their resources for clothing themselves. I recently overheard some young Christian women bewail the immodest dress of teenage girls, although I notice that they themselves habitually wear sloppy sweatpants and shapeless tees that do no more to enhance their feminine dignity and beauty than the fashions they condemn. The world thinks that "modesty" is equivalent to the denim jumper, the awkward skirt, the shapeless anything. In this light, "modesty" is all that the teen girl <i>least</i> wants to be. We need to challenge that prejudice. Modest clothing enables a woman to present herself as a person both beautiful and dignified. It should set a desirable example - in other words, a modest ensemble ideally ought to attract happy exclamations from young girls and teens, "Oh, I like that! I might like to wear something like that!" To my shame, when I attracted those exact compliments this week, I was <i>not </i>wearing something that I considered suitable for a child's admiration.<br />
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Now my challenge is <i>figuring out what to aim for. </i>I can't quite catch a vision of a wardrobe that would be practical, pretty and dignified. I have neither time nor money to burn until I have a concrete idea of what to purchase. When this subject comes up among my friends, I find that either <i>they are wrestling with the same questions I am</i> <b>or</b> <i>they have found an answer and I do not fully agree</i>. Eve had to settle for fig leaves and animal skins. Elizabeth Bennet got to wear bonnets and velvet. In every age, woman and fashion collide. I have no conclusion tonight. It's weighing heavily on my heart to weave together some kind of style that works well for me. In the meantime, I am grateful that whenever I do leave the house, I generally have the most modest, dignified, beautiful covering to which a woman can aspire: such a thick orbit of children clustered around my person that in all probability neither an inch of my flesh nor a stitch of my own clothing is visible to anyone. My accessories are slightly less constricting than the corset, as beautiful as the most gorgeous costumes I've seen on Lady Mary Crawley, and bestow more dignity than either.<span style="background-color: #f4cccc; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> T<span style="color: #444444; line-height: 16px;">rès</span> chic!</span></div>
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kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12330870507513975314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5288012174354374564.post-9351995709258632132013-10-21T18:56:00.001-07:002013-10-21T19:02:22.844-07:00maggieAfter finally deciding that I was <i>not</i> actually being called to the type of pro-life ministry that I had been feeling drawn to for so many months, the Lord got the last laugh. An "in-town" friend called a few weeks ago. She knew of a pregnant teenage girl who needed housing <i>STAT </i>and my friend was wondering if we would be willing to give this girl a room in our home.<br />
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Before the question was even out of my friend's mouth, I interrupted breathlessly...."<i>Yes</i>!" It was only a few minutes later that I realized that I should probably consult my husband about a decision this big. So I did. He was open to the idea. We checked with our daughters. They both loved the idea. (It turned out that they thought we would be <i>adopting</i> Maggie and that she would share our last name, be their forever big sister and live with them always. They were a wee bit crestfallen when these misunderstandings were cleared.)<br />
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Maggie was originally planning to move in with us last Thursday. At the last minute, some of the details of her situation changed and the need for housing was not as urgent, so she simply came over for a visit instead. She visited again today. She may need to come stay with us starting at the beginning of next month, or after Christmas, or not at all. There's a lot that is still up in the air. But what she does need is a listening ear. Support. Friendship. In other words.... what she needs is <i>everything that I felt the Lord was placing on my heart in giving me the vision of the "Servants of Dignity". </i> I thought I had tasted so much of the Lord's power and providence that it would never <i>surprise</i> me so much again. I was wrong. I'm floored.<br />
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I am having a bit of a laugh at my pride for thinking the Lord was urging me to start a <u>movement</u> of Servants - when all He was preparing me for was to be <u>a</u> Servant. No wonder I was not feeling peaceful! So that's good for humility. And good to know in the future as I discern other calls.<br />
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I don't intend to write about Maggie - not much at least. But I did want to share the conclusion (?) of so many interconnected posts on the theme of the Servants. I think this relationship is going to stretch me in new ways. I said "YES!" quickly and eagerly, but I know that there will be challenges ahead. It began the first night we met Maggie. I knew Maggie was not showing yet and I (for some <i>stupid</i> reason) did not realize she would talk so openly about the baby in front of my kids. After she left, Maria asked three questions in rapid succession:<br />
1. Is Maggie going to <i>have a baby</i>? (Yes, dear!)<br />
2. Is Maggie <i>married</i>? (Well, no. No, she is not.)<br />
3. But...how can you have a <i>baby</i> if you are not <i>married? </i> (Oh....um...<i>crap</i>).<br />
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Although Maria is <u>crystal clear</u> on how a baby gets <i>out</i> of a mommy's tummy, her understanding of how it got <i>in</i> there in the first place has been along these lines: <i>When a man and woman really love each other, they get married and then .... they <u>pray</u> really <u>really</u> hard and God gives them a baby. </i><br />
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Taadaa! And actually, for a 6 year old, I think that is a dandy explanation. But not if Maria and Maggie are in relationship. Because of that relationship, Maria needed some upgrade in her information about the birds and the bees. On the spot, I had to think of something that was true, that clearly maintained the proper ordering of God's plan, that preserved Maria's age-appropriate innocence <i>and </i><u>that respected Maggie in her entirety. </u> Because, if you have ever met a six year old, you know that whatever I said was going to be repeated to Maggie - verbatim (and soon). I know the Holy Spirit is deeply invested in this whole situation because I was instantly inspired with an answer that I considered perfect. Maria was satisfied with it as well and I'm perfectly comfortable with the idea of her sharing it with Maggie, or the old lady next door, or the cashier at the grocery store, or all of the above. Which....she will.<br />
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So <i>this </i>is the fruit of all that time of preparation. <i>Maggie.</i> And I could not be more grateful for a chance to walk with this young girl through pregnancy and beyond. It's the "beyond" that I feel is especially important. Maybe other Maggies will cross my path as well, but if nothing else, I'm learning to "think small" and be humble. May that lesson stick!kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12330870507513975314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5288012174354374564.post-34929724051596614532013-10-17T17:18:00.004-07:002013-10-17T18:58:47.581-07:00a short, muddled post before James loses patience with his mama<div style="margin-bottom: 4px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;">
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<span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Of all the endless things to love about Pope Francis, one of my favorites is that the man speaks plain English (in Italian, of course). I don't need to reread every sentence multiple times, consulting amateur philosophers, just to check that I am ticking the boxes of basic reading comprehension. In his homilies and his interviews, his words are so <i>simple </i>and so<i> true</i>. </span>The observations he makes strike me as plainly obvious - even though many of them are either brand-new thoughts to me or things I only vaguely grasped but never fully understood. Pope Francis has a <span style="font-family: inherit;">clear and sometimes surprising grasp on what is <u> really</u> important. And what is </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">more</i><span style="font-family: inherit;"> important. And what is </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">most important. </i><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f4cccc; font-family: inherit;">Below are some condensed quotes I love from his homily this morning (with some points I plan to use for personal reflection). Pope Francis was preaching about how easily a Christian can slip from "having faith" to "having an ideology" - and how there is a massive difference between following Jesus and being a Christian. These words are like daggers to my heart. I love them. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>"...Ideology does not beckon [people]. In ideologies there is not Jesus: his tenderness, his love, his meekness. And ideologies are rigid, always. At every sign: rigid. And when a Christian becomes a disciple of the ideology, he has lost the faith: he is no longer a disciple of Jesus, he is a disciple of this attitude of thought…" </b></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">-Is my witness to Christ beckoning people? Who? (if anyone) </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">-Who, if anyone, has it failed to beckon? Could a lack of tenderness, love or meekness on my part explain the failure?</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">-Where in my faith am I rigid? Where was Jesus himself rigid? Do these two answers align?</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">-In witnessing to others, is the uppermost goal of my heart to move them to behave in a more "Christian"<br /> manner OR is it to help them to truly<i> know Jesus</i> and His mercy, love and goodness?</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>“...Ideology frightens. Ideology chases away the people. It creates distances between people and it distances the Church from the people. But it is a serious illness, this ideology in Christians.....But why is it that a Christian can become like this? Just one thing: this Christian does not pray." </b></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">-Can I remember times where the religious or political ideology of others has repelled me? Other than the possibility that I simply did not agree, was there something else repugnant about mere ideology? What was it?</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">-What symptoms of the illness of "Christian ideology" do I exhibit? (If I do not know the answer to this question, why don't I know it? And how can I learn the answer?)</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>“When a Christian does not pray, this happens. And his witness is an arrogant witness. He who does not pray is arrogant, is proud, is sure of himself. He is not humble.”</b> </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>“It is one thing to pray, and another thing to say prayers.” </b></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">-<u>Am I <i>praying</i></u>? </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f4cccc;">-Am I praying <u>to the heart of Jesus</u>? Am I reading Scripture daily in a way that truly helps me to <i>know</i> His heart?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">-Do I know the pitfalls in the way I personally witness to others? </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">-Am I more focused on what others (Jesus, the Pope, mentors) are teaching me about authentically following Christ or am I more preoccupied with how I can explicitly teach/correct others? </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">-Am I asking Jesus to show me the ways in which I drive others away from Him? Am I receptive when other people hint about or tell me this information themselves? </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #f4cccc;">I think this is important stuff to reflect on. The Pope is basically working with those of us who think we are The Religious Ones and telling us, "Look, your intentions are good but your execution stinks." So far he's put a good deal of his time and energy into teaching us how to be more effective, more genuine disciples. His major points are deceptively simple: <span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>Comfort</i> is the enemy - we need to accept our share of suffering;</span></span><span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;"> Don't get</span></span><span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;"> so <u>lost</u> in the "issues" that the Church is up against - remember the <i>persons</i> whom she is <i>not</i> "against"; Face up to your own materialism - and get rid of it; etc...</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: #f4cccc;">I started thinking through the answers to some of those reflection questions above as I was writing them; I'll sit with the rest later tonight.....and the not-so-humble part of me is SUPER glad that I won't be putting the fruit of all that reflection up on a blog for all to see! :)</span></div>
kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12330870507513975314noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5288012174354374564.post-17106538700869648872013-09-21T19:45:00.006-07:002013-09-22T18:37:28.664-07:00ComedownI have exceptionally noisy children. Or so, at least, they seem to me. Time was when I'd hop in the car and start fiddling with the stereo before the key was even in the ignition. I had all my favorite stations preset and would flip through them as compulsively as any man with a TV remote. Now I just want silence. If I have a rare opportunity to drive somewhere <i>alone</i>, I do so in profound and utter silence. No babies bawling, no sisters squabbling, no monologues by Maria and <i>certainly</i> no Raffi. Silence. Blessed, blissful, beautiful silence.<br />
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So I'm not sure why I turned on the radio tonight as I drove home from Adoration. Usually an entire hour of holy silence only whets my appetite for <i>more</i> silence. But I turned it on as I pulled out of the church parking lot and pressed "scan" a few times until I heard an old Bush song that brought back all the emotion and psychology of my teenage self. Something very, very deep within me lunged almost wildly towards the music. I turned the volume up until my ears hurt and tried to lose myself in whatever strange feeling was taking over. At the same time I was trying to figure out why half of me wanted to pull over and cry my eyes out.<br />
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It wasn't until the song was over and the spell was broken that I identified a reason for the intensity of my response to that angst-y piece of music. It was the abrupt juxtaposition of all that had made up the stuff of my recent hour of prayer against all that had filled my life twenty years ago. And that there were already almost <i>twenty years </i>between me and <i>that</i> Kelly.<br />
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There's so much responsibility now. The day-in, day-out care of four very young children is heavy, but it is almost nothing compared to the deeper fears, worries and goals associated with raising four human beings in this world as it now stands. There are so many gaps and pinches in our budget that I don't know how we hold it together at all. There are so many appointments - and things to remember - and papers to keep track of. There are Oreo crumbs that need to be unstuck from the toilet bowl (other people have this problem too....right?) and autumn clothes to swap out for six people. There's so much laundry...all the time. My inbox is full of essays I need to look over for the students I am tutoring. My mind is obsessing about the manipulative warnings of the crooked dentist who informed me last week that if I don't do the thousands of dollars of dental work he prescribed, my teeth will all rot out of my head before I turn forty. My conscience is full of all my faults and failings as a Christian, mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend and member of the wealthy Western world. My heart is wrestling with the idea of another child. There<i> is not one yet, </i>but for the first time in many, many months that possibility is again before me and must be again discerned. I want more babies. I am worn out and overwhelmed.<br />
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But two decades ago, I was not. When that song came out I was 16, maybe 17. Responsibility meant getting an A. Working at a bakery on the weekends. Getting my college applications in on time. And I was really, <i>really</i> good at responsibility. Those things were very easy. Those things were <i>fun</i>. I had few responsibilities, light responsibilities, responsibilities I found only enjoyable and effortless. I could get in my dad's 1987 Pathfinder carefree and turn up the radio and sing mediocre pop songs at the top of my youthful lungs every single day. And I did.<br />
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And I was miserable. In the midst of all that fun, I was deeply unhappy. Utterly self-centered, lonely, filled with longings for things I could barely even name, insecure, angry, unfulfilled and virtually ignorant of all the most important truths about God and His Church....<br />
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Today I am nearly crushed by responsibility and the much-ness of life, but I am so, so deeply happy. I was never this happy at seventeen. I wanted too painfully everything I have now - without even knowing it.<br />
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Gavin Rossdale's voice overpowered me with the difference that all these years have made. I'm always forgetting I'm not seventeen or nineteen or twenty-one. That's all that I feel like on the inside - a girl. Just a girl. Never a <i>woman.</i> Just a girl trying to shoulder all the responsibilities of a woman. But when I fleetingly slipped back into being a "real" girl again tonight, I realized profoundly that I am so different from her. More importantly, I realized that I would not want to take back <i>any part </i>of her life. I want <i>everything</i> I have now, right down to the Oreos on the toilet. I am blessed.<br />
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The cookie crumbs on the toilet, the unending noise, the impossibly small budget - these are the things that have made me who I am now - and are continuing to take me further and further away from that self-absorbed, frustrated person I was years ago. May they take me still further.<br />
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Humble Pope Benedict XVI told us that the world entices us with a mirage of comfort. "But you were not made for comfort. You were made for greatness." And in his interview this week, our beautiful Pope Francis said, <span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px; text-align: justify;">“I see holiness in the patience of the people of God: a woman who is raising children, a man who works to bring home the bread....This is for me the common sanctity. I often associate sanctity with patience:....</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px; text-align: justify;">taking charge of the events and circumstances of life, but also as a constancy in going forward, day by day." </span><br />
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I find his words so unbelievably encouraging. I feel like I'm barely hanging on, but Pope Francis sees real, exemplary <i>holiness</i> in the woman (or girl!) who shows constancy in going forward day by day raising children, scraping Oreos off the toilet, doing piles of laundry, settling sibling squabbles, cleaning up spit-up from the carpet, shouldering financial anxiety and flossing obsessively. And Pope Benedict calls it not merely holiness, but <i>greatness</i>. And Gavin? I Googled the lyrics to his song tonight.... <i>he</i> has nothing to say that holds a candle to either pope. That's the whole point.<br />
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<br />kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12330870507513975314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5288012174354374564.post-88176429254425697782013-09-10T19:35:00.002-07:002013-09-10T19:44:18.826-07:00serving dignity...differentlyA few months ago James started "slugging" (army crawling). At that point my <i>life-with-four-children-ages-six-and-under</i> kicked into a whole new gear. Now they are<i> all</i> mobile and at least half of them are awake from 5am until 8pm. I have not found any <u>time</u> to keep a blog. Or respond to email. Or eat breakfast.<br />
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I <i>have</i> desperately <u>tried</u> to maintain some semblance of a prayer life, though only in bits and snatches many days. One of the recurring topics between the Lord and I has been that idea about single mothers. I'd really come to a place of almost perfect certainty that not only was He calling for action on it, but that He was calling for action <i>right</i> <i>now.</i> So I tried. I made phone calls and had meetings. The response was great. Things were moving. I was....nervous. Overwhelmed. Stressed. Unsure. Not quite at peace. For me, that's never really a great sign. The Lord speaks to me in <i>peace</i>. That's the only voice I recognize as His. So I had to hit the pause button and pray through it all again.<br />
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What I finally came to realize was that the "Servants of Dignity" was a <i>great</i> idea. It was <u>needed</u>. It was an inspiration <i>from God</i>. <u>And it was not my project.</u> At least not any more.<br />
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I think He wanted me simply to write about it and communicate it to someone else. I don't think He meant for me to go further with it than that. I felt a teeny bit sad about that - and a LOT relieved.<br />
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Recently I read my daughters a children's book by Max Lucado, <i>Your Special Gift.</i> (The book is not nearly as touchy-feely as the title.....) In a series of colorful pages some trippy little puppets try to help a poor family get through hard times, but each puppet tries to meet the need that seems most pressing, rather than trying to meet the need that he or she is best equipped to meet. For example, the town baker tries to fix the family's broken vehicle, instead of supplying them with food. The theme of the book is "<i>use your best gift most". </i><br />
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Starting up a ministry is <u>not</u> my best gift. I wouldn't have a clue what I was doing. I have a huge place in my heart for the unborn and for women in/after crisis pregnancies....but I have absolutely no practical experience in helping either other than offering prayer and material goods.<br />
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After praying about my real gifts, I concluded that one of the most fruitful ways I have served the Lord is through close interpersonal ministry with youth, particularly high school and college-aged girls. That area was my first love and it has been the stuff of every job and ministry in which I've been involved for the past thirteen years. I had literally no sooner finished discerning this "refocusing" of my energies when I was asked (out of the blue) to be involved with the youth ministry program at my parish. Specifically, I've been invited to get involved with the girls' group. <i>He astonishes me</i>.<br />
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In short, Jesus has redirected me to the common denominator of all of what I have loved best over the past thirteen years, whether leading retreats for all-girls high schools, teaching theology in an all-girls high school, or running my beloved "girls group" in New Zealand. Ministry To Girls. That's my best gift. I'm supposed to use it <i>most</i>.<br />
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But there was one other little reminder He whispered in my ear. He hinted that I should get back to writing. I tried to offer Him some fantastic excuses: my four boisterous children, my tutoring, the demands of homeschooling my daughters, the frequent shame and embarrassment I feel when rereading (or just remembering) things I've written for public consumption, and so forth. But over and again He presses into my heart that Christians are losing this culture largely because of the victories hell is winning in the written word. The culture of death (and of darkness, despair and depravity) thrives and grows almost solely off the written word: because of the books written, political speeches made, songs sung, movie scripts brought to life, news stories reported - all of these avenues are essentially the same: ideas put into words so as to shape hearts, thoughts and behavior. By the written word this culture is slipping fast from our fingers and by the written word only shall we reclaim it. The Word redeemed the world and our words must fight alongside His. We pray desperately in the face of this cultural free fall and He responds by inspiring ordinary people to ordinary actions. No matter how pathetic and awkward our efforts, He's asking each of us to contribute our humble gift to the battle. It's a battle for the dignity of every single human person. God, help us.<br />
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<i>Jesus, I trust in You!</i><br />
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<br />kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12330870507513975314noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5288012174354374564.post-14328083848324517662013-06-22T20:44:00.001-07:002013-06-25T20:21:40.242-07:00real presenceTonight, while reading something about the Real Presence, I realized that the hardest thing about praying (for me) is being <i>really. present</i>.<br />
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For five years I have been praying for the grace of gentleness. I thought that once I became a consistently gentle mother, I would be pretty much ready for canonization. A half-decade of grace (plus the devouring of a practical "how-to" manual in the form of that Popcak book) and here I am...more gentle than I ever dreamed I could be and <i>still </i>not ready for the Perfect Mom Award. Alas! A few weeks ago I decided that my next half decade is going to have be dedicated to growing in the ability to be "really present". John Paul the Great - a man who <i>knew</i> how to be really, totally, recklessly <i>present</i> to others- talked often about presence as a necessary prerequisite for being able to receive the gift of the person. I have the gift of five beautiful persons under this roof and I'm not receiving those gifts to the full. I'm also not giving the full gift of myself to any of them.<br />
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I can't count the number of times a day that I realize that baby James has been staring adoringly up at me, grinning with rapt attention and love, while I have been oblivious. This is not a problem that stems from having four children. I remember when <u>all</u> the others were babies, being stopped by older women in grocery stores, department stores and libraries so many times, and being told by these total strangers, "Your baby has been staring up at you with the most beautiful love for the past ten minutes. We've just been watching that baby stare at you." But I had not noticed. I might have been talking absently to the baby, perhaps I handed over a toy or disengaged my hair from tiny clutches....it's even possible that I nursed that baby - all without making direct eye contact or really noticing the tiny person strapped to my chest. Whenever these wonderful old ladies call me out of my <strike>stupid</strike> stupor, my eyes lock with the baby's eyes and....oh, the <i>smile</i>. The little face lights up with delight, joy! I can't help but feel the same - instantly - love for love, delight for delight, joy for joy. Only, my joy is tainted with a little nagging guilt and regret for being so unaware of all that love and perfect <i>presence</i> directed at me.<br />
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I don't work outside the home. I homeschool. So....I'm always "with" my children .... but relatively rarely am I truly <i>with them. </i>I often read books to children cuddled under my arm and pulled close on my lap while my mind stretches far away from them, reminding myself what to do in ten minutes or remembering events from ten years ago. I often listen to their stories with ears that do not hear and admire their artwork with eyes that do not see. I'm so often waiting for them to find something to engage their bodies so that I can slip off into my mind, remaining physically present while my thoughts steal me away.<br />
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I never remember why my husband is coming home late because I'm never listening when he tells me. I'm thinking about the fascinating article I just read or the (equally fascinating) one I'm about to write. I don't really always hear what my friends tell me because I'm regretting the stupid thing I said a few minutes back or reselecting the brilliant thing I plan to say next. And I certainly struggle to hear anything the Lord might want to tell me because <i>there's just so much else going on inside my head. </i>The God of the Universe, King of Glory, Maker of Heaven and Earth - the One who created me, gave me every good I possess, died for me and will serve as my final judge - THAT PERSON is really present to me and I am distracted. By. Such. Stupid. Nothings.<br />
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Did people struggle with this issue as much in ages past - before there was such a daily bombardment of media - all this internet and information and images to fill our heads and rob our souls? I don't know. Did people struggle with this issue as much in ages past - before there was so much <i>busy-ness</i> and rush and scheduling? I don't know. I do know that both of those factor in for me, (along with the problem of having very little practical experience in disciplining the mind). But I also know that "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." That tried-and-proven knowledge gives me perfect confidence that I can and will grow in the ability to be really, fully, soul-fully present to my kids. And my husband. And my God. It's just probably going to take at least five years - or more. In the meantime, what a beautiful thing to practice: looking more often into the eyes of the people I love; shaking off my thoughts - which really means my selfish, self-absorbed little world - to listen to the thoughts of the people I love and enter the wonderful world of "them".<br />
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It makes sense to me that the more I practice the habit of being really present to my children, the easier it will become to be fully present to God as well. If I can't practice the presence of Maria, I'll never be able to practice the presence of the Lord (He's a little more subtle than any of my offspring). I can imagine at the end of my life, the angels coming, nudging me, calling my undivided attention to the KING OF GLORY and saying, "Your God and Savior has been staring at you with the most beautiful love for the past 76 years. We've just been watching Him stare at you." He <i>is</i> just as close as these babes in arms. Nay, closer. And I don't want to wait that long to be shaken out of my stupor. My babies have taught me that.<br />
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<br />kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12330870507513975314noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5288012174354374564.post-43495677073046095292013-06-04T20:15:00.000-07:002013-06-04T20:20:13.659-07:00the visionGetting this "Support-A-Mom"/Servants of Dignity project off the ground is taking a little longer than I had expected, so I'm just going to share where I'm hoping that it may be headed.<br />
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After contacting a lot of agencies that I thought might be somehow involved in the life of women and children who are in a stage of life that comes a few years <i>after</i> the crisis pregnancy has been "resolved" (at least in the eyes of the pro-life movement), I was not really any closer to finding a way to connect with said women. I got the furthest with a shelter for victims of domestic violence. We even had a great face-to-face meeting and bounced ideas back and forth. Although ultimately it came to nothing (more on that in a moment), the conversation was actually really fruitful for me in refining this vision and setting both scope and boundaries for it. I learned that some women will not take their children and leave an abusive man because pets are not welcome at domestic violence shelters and many women are afraid of how a violent partner might visit his rage upon their pet. Although I found that astounding, I was intrigued by the need the shelter coordinators had for temporary pet foster homes. Another very simple need they have is for someone to meet the children of an abused woman for a few hours in a public place (let's say a park or a children's museum) and supervise them while mom goes to court to sort out restraining orders, etc... I was also surprised by how emphatically the shelter coordinators did NOT want regular free childcare offered to the women they help. They had many good and persuasive reasons for this stipulation and I was fully convinced of their wisdom. However, in a practical sense, it all came to nothing for this reason: any involvement in this particular ministry meant real potential danger to the children of any women helpers involved. The shelter directors were concerned about my children and the children of any who might join me in this ministry. They themselves live in real and constant threat of danger from violent men who seek retaliation. By the end of the meeting, it was apparent that this might not be the best angle to pursue.<br />
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I felt frustrated and at a loss of where to go from there. Having no other ideas at all, I did the least imaginative thing I could think of: I called the local crisis pregnancy center. Afterwards, I could not recall why that had not been the very first thing I thought of doing. I delivered my spiel to the woman who answered the phone. She was really receptive. She promised to have someone higher up in the pecking order call me soon, but told me it might take a week or more. After I'd nearly given up on hearing back, I did get a phone call. This woman was even more excited than the first woman, but said that the director would have to be involved in something this huge. Naturally, the director was not going to be in the office for some time. So I'm waiting. In the meantime, I'm praying a lot and trying to get a more concrete idea of what it is that I even want to try to communicate. <br />
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At this point, my (still foggy) goal is to match up ONE woman interested in the ministry with ONE mother in need of support. To keep things clear, I will refer to the supporting woman as the "Servant" (of Dignity) and the mother in need as the "Mom". So my hope is that the Servant will make a real and long-term commitment in her heart to the <i>persons </i>in this relationship: the Mom and her child/children. Since I'd like this "Adopt a Mom" project to foster <i>long term</i> and <i>authentic</i> friendships, I'd like the pairing up process to be as natural and attractive as possible for both the Servant and the Mom (thereby increasing the chance that the relationship "works" and thrives in the long-term). I'm wondering if we could do sort of a little soiree where potential Servants and potential Moms mingle freely for an hour or two, getting to know each other. At the end, the Moms could possibly indicate on a slip of paper the Servant(s) with whom they felt most comfortable. From there, one Servant and one Mom would be connected. Prior to the "Pairing Up Soiree", there would need to be some kind of presentation made to the interested Moms, sharing about what this project is about and what the scope and boundaries of the relationship would be. I've heard no end of warnings about the essential importance of setting clear and firm boundaries right from the start. The Servants would also attend gatherings (more than one) for formation and direction in this new kind of ministry. Once the pair was arranged, the possibilities are wide and varied. Because the goal is a real friendship, I think the Mom and the Servant would aim to check in via internet/text/phone once or twice a month and get together for a face-to-face hang out maybe once a month. Perhaps the Servant could accompany Mom and her young ones to a park and the adults could chat while the kids play. If Mom just has a young baby, perhaps Mom and the Servant could go for coffee. As the Servant gets to know Mom and what <i>her unique needs </i>are, the Servant could find small practical ways to be of genuine help: Pray for and/or with Mom. Be a listening ear. Give her an occasional child-free break. Pass on some clothing, books or toys (either gently used or out of the superabundance of brand-new stock many kids receive regularly for birthdays and Christmas). Maybe give a special annual birthday gift to the baby bravely borne. I can't really make a great list of possibilities because each Mom's needs will be different and each Servant's abilities and circumstances will vary greatly. I do see the Servant needing ongoing support and formation in this ministry (because it could get really messy or confusing!), but I really feel hope that there is tremendous potential here as well.<br />
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Most crisis pregnancy centers only help out with the practical things (like clothes and diapers) for the first 2 years of the baby's life. In my parenting experience, age 2 is just where the need for practical help begins in earnest! So I'm hoping that this idea can step in to a woman's life just when the pregnancy centers are stepping out. I mean no criticism of the pregnancy centers - they aim to meet a woman's needs for a specific period (the pregnancy and infancy years) and they do so very well!!! Many babies and women have been dramatically blessed by these ministries. I bet so many more could be if there were other ministries that specifically existed for the post-pregnancy/infancy stages.<br />
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I keep praying about this - and praying that if the whole idea is stupid that the Lord will just smash it to bits. But the idea isn't "going away" despite the agonizingly slow pace at which the process drags along. I appreciate prayers - and, if any feel so moved to attempt to contact their own local crisis pregnancy centers with a similar pitch - my desire is for this to be a widespread movement and I'd love to hear from others!kellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12330870507513975314noreply@blogger.com0