servants of dignity, pt 1

About a year and a half ago, I blogged about an idea that was on my mind: a theoretical bunch of nuns called "The Servants of Dignity". I have spent many days since thinking more about the idea. In recent months, the idea has begun to evolve and to press more urgently against the bars of my mind. I never really thought that I was meant to found a religious order. But I did begin to think that I might be capable of helping one person. So I began praying about the idea of offering one day of free child care every week to a single mom. My husband was supportive of this inspiration, so next I spoke at length to my most amazing nun-friend in the world - there she is - the super cute one on the right.....

And I didn't really tell anyone else. I was still discerning the idea and thought it might end up being really impractical given the four children already in my daily care. My friend, Sr Grace Dominic, a Sister of Life, assured me that that was no selfish consideration.  Since her entire ministry is centered on the pro-life cause, she was able to tell me some other concrete practical things that women in crisis pregnancies need but often lack.  But I kept coming back to that first idea.

And then today....today was one of those impossible days. After being up all night with an infant burning with a fever of over 104 degrees, I had to take him (with all three of his siblings) to the doctor's office first thing this morning. After hurriedly dressing the kids and shoving on my own clothes, I tried to put in my contacts and my eyes absolutely blistered. At first I thought it was from lack of sleep - then I realized that my three year old had "cleaned" the inside of my contact case with liquid handsoap the day before. Unfortunately that same three year old had snapped both of the (sticks?) off the sides of my eyeglasses last week and I'd had no time to get them repaired. So I had no choice but to hold the lens portion of the glasses over my eyes as I drove to the doctor. The three and five year old bickered the whole trip. The two year old had diarrhea. The doctor sent us to the hospital for blood work. It took an hour. None of us had eaten anything yet. The girls bickered until I both said and did regrettable (non-parenting-with-grace) things. The toddler squirted more. The baby wailed. When we got home the toddler dumped a full open glass of Welch's purple grape juice all over the living room carpet of the rented home in which we live (and which is currently for sale with a viewing scheduled for this weekend). I cried. And, in the midst of all this chaos, I read about the Gosnell trial. I read through fresh aching tears. And in one overemotional, passionate moment of being overwhelmed with motherhood and not-motherhood all at once, I wrote a most absurdly long Facebook post and decided that "Servants of Dignity" was more properly suited for being a grassroots movement than a religious order. I decided definitely to act on the idea and to publicly invite others to do so alongside me.

In New Zealand, I'd had a dream of a group of nuns who would pick up where the pro-life movement tends to let off. In my opinion, the pro-life momentum seems to come to a screeching halt at that excruciatingly crucial moment where the mother chooses life, the baby is born, and the pair are sent off into the sunset with a bunch of really cute infant clothes and diapers. (Life, what a beautiful choice!)

I don't think pro-lifers and pro-choicers are hearing each other. I know there is not a pro-choice slogan in the world that will sway a person convinced of the sacredness of the unborn child. But I think most pro-life slogans sound absolutely fruity to the pro-choicers, and I understand why. It's not as simple as we're making it sound. It's like we've never stepped foot in an inner city. It's like we have no idea of the real, everyday suffering that a woman and her child will face after she makes a decision to keep her baby - even if she and her child are spared the hell of the inner city. It is so, so hard to raise a child even under the best of circumstances: in a stable marriage, with a supportive spouse, with financial security, with relative maturity, supported by adoring grandparents and doting friends, on a safe street with a great school district. Of all the woman I know raising kids (plural) - and I know many... and they are rich and poor, married and divorced, lonely and surrounded by community -  I do not know one mother amongst them who is not seriously struggling. True, I have some friends with just one child who are loving every golden moment, but even among my friends who are parenting only one child, many are feeling overwhelmed and stressed.  Even under the best of circumstances!

Now, let's take that same woman and take away her income, her spouse, her nice house, her health insurance. Let's also take away a decade of personal maturity. And let's suppose that her child is not planned, and not a "surprise",  but an absolute shock. There is no sense, at this point, in getting up on a soapbox about sexual consequences or sex education or any of the rest of it. We should dialogue about those issues, but let's just focus on this woman in this crisis situation right here. If she is living in fear of her parents' and friends' condemnation, our pro-life slogans barely reach her.  If she is living (or has lived) the hardships of the inner city, our slogans seem ridiculously ignorant. I remember praying once in front of an inner city abortion clinic and being screamed at by many residents who insisted that we didn't understand their life. They were right.

I am starting to understand how compassionate people can be pro-choice. I am not pro-choice (anymore!) and never will be again. I simply understand that a childhood defined by fatherlessness, parental drug use, poverty, violence, physical abuse or other pain can SEEM worse than the evil of abortion. I think the pro-life movement has been pretty successful in overturning the ignorant argument that "it's not a real human person". I think we have miles to go in overturning the astute observation that raising children is really, really hard - especially when you have precious little support. I think most pro-choicers know (on some level) that the "fetus" is (or might be) a real person. That's why nobody boasts about their abortions. But I think that pro-choicers are looking at an impossible dilemma (with a "quick mercy killing" on one side and long, drawn-out years of real and bitter suffering on the other) and choosing the "easier" way.

So I want to be part of the solution. I want to offer practical support. I believe that prayer is truly powerful - and that prayer with fasting is even more powerful. I will pray and fast.

I also believe that the Lord responds to prayer and fasting by calling people to action. I think that the Lord will hold us all accountable for abortion. He asked the goats on his left, "Where were you when I was hungry?" and He will ask us "Where were you when I was being aborted?" The sheep on His right performed Corporal Acts of Mercy. They saw a need and offered practical support. They fed the hungry.

A lot of pro-choicers donate money and baby items. No doubt that is practical support and it is good to do so. But I think we need more people who are going to also put themselves face-to-face with the women and children who need support. I think support has to have a face - and two arms. This is where the Servants of Dignity come in. This post is long. I am tired. The next post or two will continue in this vein - hopefully bearing the fruit of additional reflection, prayer and dialogue with others willing to help. Thank you for reading this long post. Please pray for this endeavor!

parenting with grace

I read a fabulous book over Lent that I am just bursting to share! I have one child who drives me a little bit crazy and someone (well, several someones) Recommended A Book.  Now the kind of women I like always Recommend A Book whenever anyone shares anything. So when I shared with some friends that I was being challenged beyond my ken and they responded with a Book Recommendation - well, I was thrilled.

This was not the first parenting book I've ever read. To be precise, I think it is the two hundred and fourth parenting book I have read to date. It is, with no competition, the best.

I read it really, really fast. It was gripping. It was a parenting page-turner. It dazzled and blinded me with one paradigm shift upon the next. There were so many new thoughts racing through my mind, I couldn't process or act upon any of them. So I read it again - really, really slowly. I put little check marks in the margins next to everything that astounded me. Some pages were covered with check marks.

Then, I took notes. I read the book a third time and wrote down a summary of everything I had checked off. This was a LENT, folks!  I rewrote those notes in a more organized fashion, dividing everything I most liked into four categories (with three self-created "stages" for revamping my approach to parenting). I wrote a third draft of the notes, more neatly and succinctly. I began studying them nightly as I used to study for graduate school exams. Did I mention what a l-e-n-t this was?!?!  I prayed over the notes. I began implementing the first stage. And then the second. And now the third.

And it has all gone so marvelously. 

After enthusiastically recommending the book to every parent I know (plus some people who have no children), I still have more enthusiasm left. I'm now going to recommend it to people I don't know. The book is titled Parenting With Grace and it is written by the Greg and Lisa Popcak. [Some caveats: I find their tone often borders on nearly unbearably "holier-than-thou". I also take issue with a few borderline snarky sounding comments about the Protestant "theology of the child", if you will. But after reading so many wonderful Christian books containing snarky comments about Catholics, I've developed an ability to take what is good from a book and ignore what is not!  And truly, the book is good. It's been a massive turning point in my experience of parenting. PS - I read the second edition, which I believe contains a lot of great material that was not in the first edition.]

Until reading this book, I really, really, really believed (though almost without realizing I believed this) that the best way to tell how I was "doing" as a parent was to look at the way my children behaved. Were they Obedient? Polite? Honest? Obedient? Kind? Obedient? Reading? OBEDIENT?!?!?!?!?!!? (Incidentally, I also believed that this was the best way to tell how someone else was doing as a parent. If anyone had tried to dissuade me from this opinion, I would have written her off as one of those "Marshmallow Mother Trying To Be Her Spoiled-Brat-Kid's Best Friend, Good Luck When She's A Teenager" kind of parent. I was probably being a wee bit harsh.... Possibly judgmental.....)

I am grateful to the Popcaks for freeing me (and my children) from this painful, high-pressure, vice-like grip on demanding that my children act in a certain way in order to validate my all-consuming desire to be a Good Parent. My friends, most likely, are grateful as well.

Instead, I'm convinced now that the litmus test for "how I'm doing as a parent" is how warm and loving is my relationship with each child? If that piece is securely in place, discipline is far, far more effective. To the degree that the attachment is weak, all discipline will fail to some degree. (I mean, what parent really wants to produce a perfectly behaved child who hates your guts?)

Even though I have resisted this parenting theory for almost six years, during my years as a teacher I had instinctively understood it. Without ever being told, I knew that as long my students knew I really LIKED them, I could discipline very gently - almost imperceptibly - and they'd behave for me (according to the reasonable and high expectations of the school as a whole). I taught for three years at a high school just outside of New York City and never had a student who I really could not manage. That is the truth. My only secret was that I liked them. Yes, all of them. Sincerely. And I showed it unreservedly - they knew! Certainly there were days when a student acted up, and there were students who I found more challenging than others, but I never once walked out of school on a Friday in despair about returning on Monday. I always was utterly confident that with enough thought, creativity and time, I was going to win over the student and secure her cooperation. Teaching like that was the most rewarding, fulfilling, satisfying experience imaginable. Even during seasons of moderate depression, I was truly happy during my working hours.

So why was a five year old able to undo me in a way that 18 year olds had not.....????

To figure that out, I had to reflect on my second teaching experience. From the day I walked in to school #2, I felt physically and emotionally intimidated by my students. The behavioral expectations at that school were extremely lax and it was difficult to persuade my students that mine were not unreasonable. The tone that defined my relationship with these classes was wariness, not affection. Without that unguarded, happy rapport that I'd shared with my first two hundred students, all the same formerly successful disciplinary techniques were now failing. Badly. I could not control these students. A few began physically intimidating me. I became more cold and even my affection for growing pockets of students became more and more difficult to express. I often started crying as soon as I got in my car to drive home. I was utterly unsure of myself, certain I was failing, overwhelmed and clueless about what to do to fix it.

A lot more reminiscent of some of my days as a parent.....

None of my four children intimidate me. I'm not wary of them. But I'm tired (and also exhausted). And also fatigued. I'm busy. I'm multitasking. Questions can start to seem exasperating. Ditto for Standard Childhood Behavior (dawdling, bickering, whining, spilling, etc....). I have clear, high expectations that will be enforced, as per school #1. But I've simply forgotten to make it my number one priority every day to show affection. And, as I learned while teaching, affection makes all the difference in the effectiveness of discipline.

So, "Phase One" of my Motherhood Renovation was simply to focus on showing affection (in insanely simple ways). More eye contact. Eye contact with smiles. More listening - really listening - really being mentally present. Putting the two babies down and making room on my lap for the bigger kids. Rumpling hair as I poured juice. Taking the bigger kids out on just one short one-on-one outing every single week.  None of this is hard. I just had forgotten. I realized that sometimes, perhaps, the only way my oldest child could really get me to stop everything, look her in the eyes and give her my undivided, riveted attention, was to do something sort of awful to one of the other three. And so she did.

The book said that it would take at least two weeks to see a behavioral change from increased affection. It took two days.  I decided to move on to the behaviors I had identified as "Phase Two".  These were changes I knew it would be harder to make or to be consistent about. Some turned out to be easier than I thought. For example, instead of getting exasperated every morning about how many times I had to remind and prod the 3 & 5 year old to get ready for the day, I simply posted THIS in the bathroom.

I made a similar one for their bedroom.

I have not had to remind, nag, plead or yell since. I send one child upstairs to do the bathroom list and the other to do the bedroom list. Then they switch rooms. My mornings are infinitely more lovely. I'm a visual learner myself (I do not understand or retain any information that is simply said to me -I have to see it.) It turns out that my children are just the same. My expectations are much clearer to them now that they can SEE them.

Other Phase Two changes (in my order of increasing difficulty!) include:
1. Showing respect (instead of exasperation) for all a child's stated and implied needs (including, especially, the ones that seem most ridiculous, frustrating or inconvenient).

2. Calmly teaching what ought to be done instead instead of punishing, criticizing or yelling about behavior that has been done.

3. Asking myself, "Do I do that?" about any pattern of bothersome childish behavior and striving intentionally to model the appropriate behavior. (In other words, if Child A regularly shouts at siblings or hits, is it possible that Child A has not learned from Mother how to appropriately deal with frustration.....?)

Phase Three is a list of the ten discipline techniques described in the book that I thought were most relevant and helpful given the routine behavior issues of the children (and mother...) in my house. Phase Three began concurrently with Phase Two, with the understanding that the emphasis at present is on Phase Two. Phase Three consists of habits that will take the longest and include:

-taking a child on your lap and almost whispering correction in their ear, rather than speaking harshly.

-offering an appropriate alternative to the undesirable behavior being exhibited (aka redirection)

-offering do-overs ("Please say/do that over again, but politely/gently this time")

-modified time-outs (before child leaves time-out, she must identify & role-play what she ought to have done instead. She must also apologize - and then she is given affection & affirmation)

-how to identify an appropriate and truly logical consequence. (what must the child do to fix the problem caused? or to practice what she ought to have done instead? or to grow in the virtue that is clearly lacking?)


Very few of the Phase Three suggestions are easy. None are short cuts. They all involve increased "self-donation". But I'm finding that as the weeks go by putting these things into practice, life is becoming far easier and more pleasant. I feel closer to my kids. I'm enjoying my days with them a lot more. I feel far more confident, peaceful, joyful and fulfilled as a mother. The kids are behaving better. Much, much better. I mean, they're hardly giving me any opportunities to practice at my Phase Three techniques.

And that is the whole point.......

they didn't have time.....

I spent a lot of time this Lent reading. I read and reread and took copious notes on the Popcaks' book, Parenting with Grace. I read St Josemaria and Fr Jacques Philippe and the Gospel according to Saint Luke. I read chunks of the Catechism. I read a variety of marriage-related literature for the part-time work Richard and I do together in our "free time."  I read Patricia Hubbell's Trucks: Whizz, Zoom, Rumble (or something like that) about 538493749 times. Per day. Thank you, Joseph.

For the girls, I read The Tale of Despereaux, Because of Winn Dixie, Danny the Champion of the World, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, These Happy Golden Years, and books about turtles and books about alligators and books about slavery and books about Abraham Lincoln and books about Saints Valentine, Patrick and Francis....but most importantly, this Lent we read so many books about the Passion and Resurrection.

From all the reading I accomplished over 40 days (and good portions of the 40 nights), I learned a lot! I learned that the quality of my parenting is not defined by how well my kids behave, but by how well they are loved. I learned that I have a lot more growing to do as a wife than I thought previously. I learned that trucks are much more highly onomatopoeic than I ever knew. I learned that books set in the South are far more enjoyable when read aloud with an exaggerated Southern accent, and that stories that take place in the UK would be better read aloud with a great British accent (if only I could pull it off). I now know that crocodiles live in many parts of the world but alligators only live in America and China, and that frogs lay their eggs in a blob while toads lay theirs in a chain.

But what struck me most in all my reading was something I have read so many times that I never saw it - something I've heard so many times, I've been deaf to it. I heard it and saw it for the very first time this Lent - repeatedly - as I read so many different accounts of the Passion to my children. Right there, in black and white (frequently with beautiful illustrations) was this shocking tidbit: after Jesus was tortured, condemned, brutalized, crucified and killed, his body was sort of hastily placed in a tomb because they didn't have time to do any of the nice things they usually did for the dead before burying them. They. Didn't. Have. Time.  That's what it says.  They did not have time. Of course, they were fully intending to come back in a day or two, but at that very moment there simply was not enough time.

These women not only loved Jesus as intensely as you love the person you most fiercely love, but they all, to some extent, believed or were near believing that He was the Messiah, the Son of God, the Christ, God Incarnate. In other words, they not only loved him but reverenced him. But they didn't have time to anoint His mutilated body - the Body that had endured so much and lay lifeless and fully spent. "No time".

These were good, holy women....who gave priority to keeping the Sabbath over anointing the dead body of God. I don't know whether Jesus himself would have endorsed the decision or not - in so many circumstances He emphasized the freedom we have to do good and righteous acts on the Sabbath. My point is not to quibble with these blessed women (who, because of their holy desire to both fully honor the Sabbath and then fully honor the body of the Lord, were granted the most enviable privilege of being the first witnesses of the most glorious event in all history). No, I do not quibble with them at all.

My quarrel is only with myself. Although much of the Mosaic law is no longer binding upon Christians -as evidenced by the loin of pork the Sealy family ate this evening - the Ten Commandments are. Keeping the Sabbath is still one of the express commandments of my God. But, by observing most of us on Sundays, one might wonder if it is the most "disposable" of all the Commandments. Is going to church the whole requirement, or is there anything else involved in keeping the Sabbath holy? Sometimes it's like I'm operating under the assumption that Mass is a "must" - but anything beyond that is just extra-credit. In response to situations far less important than the burial of a beloved and divine Master, I regularly excuse myself for taking liberties with the sacredness of the Sabbath. I'm not talking about the traditional Jewish restrictions on Sabbath-Day activities, all I am talking about is observing a base-line Sabbath rest:
1. extra time spent with the Lord in prayer or spiritual reading,
2. extra time spent with family,
3. no unnecessary work/a day of rest from what constitutes my daily work

Part of my work is unavoidable on Sunday. There would be nothing holy about refusing to change diapers on Sunday. Laundry - that can wait one day. Errands (aka "buying stuff") ought to as well. Unless someone vomits, mopping floors shouldn't be "necessary".  So my rule of thumb for Sundays has been to "avoid" laundry, errands and unnecessary housework. But I'll make exceptions as fast as you can say "cloth diaper shortage".

One thing I've taken away from Lent this year is a conviction that the Third Commandment needs to be given a lot more weight in this house. Even Mary, the Mother of Jesus, fully knowing all that she knew about her Son's divine nature, and fully submissive to all His teachings, fully aware of the utter Authority with which he performed works of mercy on the Sabbath, and fully loving all that he was to her as her own child, even still, she let them take His broken body from her arms and lay it in the tomb unprepared so as not to break the Sabbath.  I don't understand really at all how or why she did so. But, in imitation of her, and of the other holy women who humbly obeyed God's commandment despite all the beautiful excuses they might have made, I am determined to be far more serious about "keeping holy the Sabbath". I'm not talking about avoiding works of mercy - I'm talking about avoiding work. When Jesus says, "The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath," he's telling us that taking one day a week to really rest and reorient ourselves to God and our family is a gift to us. It's good for us. I trust him. And I want to live like I do. 

from the Catechism......

2185 On Sundays and other holy days of obligation, the faithful are to refrain from engaging in work or activities that hinder the worship owed to God, the joy proper to the Lord's Day, the performance of the works of mercy, and the appropriate relaxation of mind and body.123 Family needs or important social service can legitimately excuse from the obligation of Sunday rest. The faithful should see to it that legitimate excuses do not lead to habits prejudicial to religion, family life, and health.

The charity of truth seeks holy leisure- the necessity of charity accepts just work.124
2186 Those Christians who have leisure should be mindful of their brethren who have the same needs and the same rights, yet cannot rest from work because of poverty and misery. Sunday is traditionally consecrated by Christian piety to good works and humble service of the sick, the infirm, and the elderly. Christians will also sanctify Sunday by devoting time and care to their families and relatives, often difficult to do on other days of the week. Sunday is a time for reflection, silence, cultivation of the mind, and meditation which furthers the growth of the Christian interior life.

2187 Sanctifying Sundays and holy days requires a common effort. Every Christian should avoid making unnecessary demands on others that would hinder them from observing the Lord's Day. Traditional activities (sport, restaurants, etc.), and social necessities (public services, etc.), require some people to work on Sundays, but everyone should still take care to set aside sufficient time for leisure. With temperance and charity the faithful will see to it that they avoid the excesses and violence sometimes associated with popular leisure activities. In spite of economic constraints, public authorities should ensure citizens a time intended for rest and divine worship. Employers have a similar obligation toward their employees.

2188 In respecting religious liberty and the common good of all, Christians should seek recognition of Sundays and the Church's holy days as legal holidays. They have to give everyone a public example of prayer, respect, and joy and defend their traditions as a precious contribution to the spiritual life of society. If a country's legislation or other reasons require work on Sunday, the day should nevertheless be lived as the day of our deliverance which lets us share in this "festal gathering," this "assembly of the firstborn who are enrolled in heaven."125

Straight from the Abbey

I stand awed by Julian Fellowes. Not only is he writing the most aesthetically beautiful, marriage-affirming, charity-affirming drama on television, but hardly anyone seems to notice how unapologetically Catholic these wildly popular episodes are. And I've come to think that that is exactly his plan.

For a while I wished he'd just come out and be more explicit about his lofty moral designs. I felt that it was just too subtle and PEOPLE WERE MISSING IT! But after reading this article I began to think that the problem is not that Downton Abbey is too subtle, the problem is that there aren't many other television shows that have ventured out of the "Christian ghetto" to stand in solidarity with Downton.

Now, I have taken some criticism in the past for commending the show as a great example of Catholic television. Not everyone agrees that the very hairiest moral issues of our day make for wholesome media viewing. I respect that. But Fellowes' skillful handling of those issues are the very reason for my own admiration. Whether we like it or not, these issues are the stuff of modern entertainment and we desperately need someone addressing these issues from the Christian perspective - and doing so in a way that actually appeals to people who are not hardcore Christians.

Richard's Valentine's gift to me was to sit with me and watch all of Season Three, marathon-style. I love my husband. (In about three days, when he gets around to reading this post, and realizes to his horror that the entire 62 people who read this blog now know that he watches Downton.... well, our relationship might get a little rocky around that time. Pray for me on or around March 7th....)

I wanted to post immediately on what most struck me, but I forced myself to wait until the season finished airing in the States. It has. I hold back no longer. In order not to make this into a massively long post, I'm just going to skim through some of the areas in which I most appreciated Fellowes' counter-cultural and Catholic innuendos as he brilliantly depicts the complexity of navigating the modern world as it came of age, showing "normal" people grappling with the mysteries of sin (as these sins were abruptly losing their taboo). Alongside, he quietly explores the mystery of suffering and demonstrates the potential for growth in goodness that suffering offers not only to the sufferer, but to any who merely witness suffering.

Marriage Affirming
I was really pleased to see the sanctity and goodness of faithful, life-long marriage being portrayed from so many different angles. This attitude is so completely atypical of television. Most abundant in these episodes is the intense joy and beauty in the faithful love between Anna and Bates, Sybil and Tom, Mary and Matthew. Additionally, Fellowes tastefully highlights the very particular joy that the latter couple derive from the fullness of marital intimacy after a thoroughly pure and chaste courtship. He also  quietly but powerfully emphasizes the joy that babies bring- not only to their parents, but to the entire community that receives them. This is true both in regard to the babies born to the Crawley girls (as the good and much-desired fulfilment of their marital love), but also in regard to the little boy born to poor Ethel.

Though Lord and Lady Grantham go through another (understandable!) rough patch in their marriage following Sybil's death, their loving appreciation of each other is renewed (plus some) many months later when they witness the painful relationship between Shrimpy and his wife in Scotland. In contrast, the full tragedy of Shrimpy's marriage is depicted - and though that sort of slow deterioration of friendship and affection is utterly cliche, Fellowes handles it with genuine compassion and shows it to be no less tragic for being so common.

Furthermore, the problem of adultery is handled from a few vantage points, and in every case is denied to be a good, true or beautiful choice. Matthew Crawley, ever the defender of what is pure and honorable, is quick to speak and act on behalf of marital fidelity in the two most explicit and "justifiable" cases: young Rose's dalliance with the man married to the "horrid" wife and the pursuit of Edith by the newspaper editor married to an institutionalized woman. Although Edith's last words about the matter indicate that she intends to move forward with the affair, I believe that if she does in fact do so, Season Four will fully explore the suffering she will bring upon herself and others by such a decision. Edith's own words, when she initially contemplated the affair, "I just can't see a happy ending...." will undoubtedly prove prophetic. I am confident of such, because utterly absent from three seasons of Downton episodes has been a single instance in which dishonoring the Christian ideals of marriage has brought any true or lasting joy to a single character. Fully to the contrary. Are any other television shows out there echoing this eternal truth? I know of none.

Charity
Julian Fellowes has very few flat characters who are always saintly or always evil. True, it seems Matthew Crawley and Mrs Hughes unfailingly choose the good. All the rest are just normal people who sometimes (or often) betray their weakness, vice and sinfulness in every area common to man. And the few who characteristically tend towards evil, malice and vice are shown to be wounded and vulnerable souls deserving of compassion. In other words, Fellowes hates the sin and loves the sinner - and invites us to do the same.

I'm thinking particularly of Thomas, whom I have "loved to hate" for three years. I found, at the end of this past season, that he has almost become one of my favorite characters. Only now, I love to love him. I'm gratified that Fellowes has never made Thomas to be the insipid, ubiquitous stereotype of a homosexual that litters most of television. In this season particularly, Thomas defies those narrow cliches with his physical strength and bravery. In the pain and humiliation he endures, and the vulnerability and courage he shows, and in watching the beautiful process of him learning to love chastely, he has taught me much about the virtue of charity. Julian Fellowes has written the drama of Thomas brilliantly, exposing the lies that the religious tell themselves about homosexuals. In fact, I think my favorite line of the entire season is when Thomas turns at the door, looks Carson in the eye and softly states, "I am not foul." Characters compassionate to Thomas are heroic. Falsely "moral" characters reveal their own uncharity, hypocrisy and ugliness (this is true not only as they react to Thomas' dilemma, but also as they react to that of Ethel, the reformed prostitute). Watching the treatment that Thomas and Ethel received (both the best and the worst of it) caused me to think deeply and examine my own heart. It also helped me understand how the "moral" underpinnings of an entire culture came undone so rapidly. It was well that such false morality came undone! Now it remains to be rebuilt - authentically.

I did know in advance that Fellowes intended to "introduce an explicitly Catholic story line" in season three. I do not know if he intends to continue it in season four. My first reaction after viewing all of season three was that he really had not done very much with the Catholic story line. To be honest, I was a bit disappointed. Initially. However, in a season replete with quotes from Scripture and explicit dialogue about both Christ and the Catholic Church, the scripted protests voiced against the Catholic Church are absurd and are depicted as narrow-minded bigotry. Maybe that's all he is intending to do explicitly. Far more pervasive was the very subtle and unbroken upholding of Catholic moral theology in every one of the wide and varied issues the episodes touched upon. Marc John Paul Barnes would say, I think, that Julian Fellowes has chosen the better part. May it not be taken from him.

little lenten lessons

With four children age five and under, I find it challenging to strike a balance between a Lenten atmosphere in the home that is "too much" with one that is "not enough".  Last year's "Lent Report" sort of gives an idea of how hard it is for me to find (and stick with) a plan given all the variables at play!

One new element we're going to give a whirl this year involves this guy......

He's got some buddies too.

My girls' group in New Zealand crafted some fabulous little Biblical hand puppets. We didn't even sew them - we used glue guns (with old clothes, yarn & google-y eyes). It took no time at all. The little critters debuted in a puppet show in Mt Maunganui, illustrating parables during Children's Liturgy - and then a few of them came home to America with me. They've been untouched in a box for over a year. Until.....

I'd been thinking about how to embed Scripture verses in my children's hearts. This process has led me to consider both what and how. I thought a lot about what verses are important, simple and brief enough to be accessible to very young children. Which verses did I most want to plant in their minds and souls, to strengthen and bless them in the years to come? Which would be most valuable given the temperaments of my children and the areas that we are most working on together as a family? And how should I approach this? Drilling for straight memorization didn't appeal to me, but I was having a hard time thinking creatively. Then I suddenly remembered the little puppets and I knew!

I used several resources to begin selecting verses. My Google searches were disappointing and did not fit my purpose well, but they were a good start. Then I "googled" my own heart and jotted down some of the verses that have been important in my own life. I've begun reading my nightly Scripture with an eye for pithy & powerful verses. I'm also paying careful attention when I hear or see Scripture verses in conversation, homilies, books, music & prayer. Anything that's a good fit for what I'm trying to do here gets jotted down on an index card. Some of my "possibilities" so far include:

God is love.      ~1 John 4:8

The Lord is my Shepherd, there is nothing I shall want.       ~Psalm 23:1

Speak the truth in love.     ~Ephesians 4:15

Even children are known by their acts, by whether what they do is pure and right.  ~Proverbs 20:11

I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.      ~Philippians 4:13

My child, if sinners entice you, turn your back on them.     ~Proverbs 1:10

Since I am starting this as a Lenten experiment, and using one verse per week, just seven verses or so will be sufficient for my purposes at present. If this is a huge hit, I hope to keep it going, but for now it is a "Lent thing". 

After dinner tonight, my little puppet introduced himself to my children as St Paul. He got to know them a little and then announced that he wanted to share with them something that he wrote to the Hebrews. [He didn't get into the debate that surrounds the authorship of said Epistle, he just claimed authorship (silly puppet).]

 He told them that what he was about to share with them was going to help them love Jesus and love others. After much dramatic throat clearing, he finally read off the index card - enunciating as clearly as any muppet would-  "Encourage - one - another - daily." He asked them if they knew what "encourage" and "daily" meant. Their faces were priceless. Wide-eyed, open-mouthed smiles, staring directly into his google-ing eyes, they silently shook their heads "no".  Even Joseph was beaming at the puppet and struggling to repeat the word "daily". The puppet asked Papa if he knew what those big words meant. He did. After everyone was clear on the terminology, Puppet Paul cleared his throat a few more times and re-read his quote. He pointed out one piece of encouragement that each child (& parent!) had either given or received that day. Then he asked us all to try to practice being an encourager this week (daily) and promised to come back tomorrow night after dinner to talk more about giving encouragement. 

For a week we will reread this one verse and focus on it. Next week, we will move on to a new puppet and a new verse. And I do say "we". I caught myself tonight as I tucked the girls in - usually with a bedtime kiss, I say to each child, "I love you so much. You are such a good little girl (or boy, as the case may be)." Tonight, in lieu of the blanket "good girl" affirmation, I whispered to each girl one particularly good thing I'd observed her do that day. I could see in their eyes how much more that meant to them. I feel excited that this is a Lenten activity that can meet each person in the family on their own level. At the very least, we're all learning Scripture by heart. At best, we'll be living it. 

same old, same ancient

Yesterday I took the kids to Mass for Ash Wednesday - that "NOT Holy-Day-of-Obligation" (but nobody believes you) celebration in the liturgical calendar. People go to Mass on Ash Wednesday who  may not go to Mass even for Easter or Christmas. It's that kind of a day. Exciting. Fraught with possibilities.

Anyway, I was trying to turn down the "excitement & possibilities" amongst my tribe of short people when a young-ish guy popped through the doors and glanced to the left, to the right, and then straight at me. He frowned and said with a slight tease in his voice, "Don't you do holy water anymore?" I realize that in writing that may sound rather cryptic, so I'll explain. First, by "you," I  can only assume he meant, "you people, here at this parish," because I had "done" holy water as I entered the church. Our parish has a large baptismal font filled with holy water in the foyer/narthex - there are no little fonts near the doors once you come through and approach the pews. Unwittingly, my friend had walked past the baptismal font and entered the nave, expecting to bless himself inside. He was jarred by the absence of the expected little bowls. So I told him where the holy water could be found, we smiled at each other, and he went his merry way. He returned a few minutes later and, this time a little sheepishly, said, "Thanks. (pause) ...I haven't done this in a while." More smiles all around. That's a cool thing about "Ash Wednesday Not a Holy Day of Obligation But People Who Don't Normally Do This Come".

But it also reminded me of one of the most profoundly essential parts about being Catholic. People expect to know what to expect when they come to "do this" (in memory of Him). This guy, despite however long it had been since he'd been inside a Catholic church, knew there is SUPPOSED to be HOLY WATER when you first walk in. He knew it with enough certitude to be a tiny bit sarcastic when he found it missing. Everybody knows just what to expect from the Catholic Church - the same old, same old. 

And so it was for me fifteen years ago, when I was poised on the brink of making a sloppy exit from the Catholic Church....bored to tears with the same old, same old. I say it was shaping up to be a "sloppy exit" because it was so entirely other than a "clean break". My attendance at Mass was spotty and listless. My intellect and emotions thrashed against a great deal of Church teaching. I was (lukewarmly and distractedly) thirsty for something spiritual, and the Catholic Church felt as dry and flat as the desert. Sometimes the music or the preaching fed that part of me that was lazily hungry, but mostly....it didn't. So I was fading off - but not seeking anything new. That kind of sloppy.

Until, an ancient cliche: one devastating event, followed by several smaller aftershocks, left me lonelier and more turbulent than I'd ever imagined possible. I was completely broken, with more raw pain and anger than I could handle on my own. I had no one that could possibly help me bear it. I didn't even have enough friends at hand to simply distract me. So, I did the perfectly cliche thing and remembered God, made time for God, clung - desperately - to God. I was still wholly uninterested in anything the Catholic Church (or any other church) had to offer, but I wanted everything God might have for me.

At that time I had so many roommates, I found that my best chance for a quiet and private place to pray was in a church - so I began dropping in to a small, pretty church quite regularly. It was always empty, silent, beautiful - a balm and a salve to the soul. I had found a place of peace. I began looking forward to that daily time of quiet prayer with the ardor of an addict. I needed that peace and I was sometimes frantic to get to my quiet church.

Thus, I was not pleased to pop my nose inside one Tuesday and find other people there. Many other people. There were not simply other people present, but there was a Mass going on. I was irritated by and resentful of the intrusion. What the heck were people doing at Mass on a TUESDAY?  I was barely conscious of the existence of weekday Masses. (And why should I know about them? I'd only attended Catholic schools since kindergarten.....)

I don't know why I stayed, but I did.

I do know why I stayed. It was sheer grace.

"Taste it again for the first time." That old ad is the only way I can articulate what happened next. I limped grudgingly through the Mass, but when it was over, something inside me was - different. I went to Mass again the next day. And every single day that week. And the next week. And the one after that. Because it was the same old, same old. BECAUSE of that fact, not IN SPITE of it. But by "old," I now meant ancient...... stable......a rock upon which to rebuild my life. That which had previously been the object of boredom and contempt was becoming the source of consolation and order. And it wasn't inspiring preaching or heart-wrenching music I was falling in love with. There was no music or preaching at these daily Masses - it was simply The Mass, stripped naked of the Accessories that had formerly distracted me from The Face. The Mass became the one part of my day in which I could know exactly what to expect. And that was (and is) profoundly comforting. It is more "home" than home is. I've had a lot of homes. Any of them could be destroyed tomorrow. All of them can and have been dramatically changed. They simply don't have the permanency of two thousand years of undestroyable "sameness".

In the decade and a half that followed, I came to understand and appreciate so many things about the Mass - and the Catholic Church - things that twenty one years of Catholic education had failed to communicate to me. (I'm sure that others had tried to explain and teach me some of these things, but for the most part, all I had heard was blah, blah, blah.) No one can understand or explain the Church except by loving her first - just as no one can truly understand or explain any woman except by loving her first! In pain I learned to love the Mass, and from that, all else followed.

All of this was brought back to me yesterday, by the man who had not "done this" in a long time, and by his shock that possibly something might have changed during his absence. For better and for worse, the Catholic Church is not known for change, or novelty, or trends, or....surprise. Which is, I think, at the heart of the absolutely shocked reaction to Pope Benedict's announcement this week. Or else, why on earth would it surprise anyone when a frail and elderly man retires? But whether you are a non-Catholic, an "orthodox" Catholic, or a "liberal" Catholic, you just don't expect something other than the same old, same old from the Catholic Church. We expect an elderly, white-haired pope - and we expect him to keep pope-ing along until he eventually dies and another elderly, white-haired pope is elected. The whole world expects a certain stability from Rome, whether we realize it or not and whether we like it or not! We hear that the Church should change this, or change that, or get with the times....but then there is such shock when the Pope "retires" (or the holy water is moved). We live in an age of rapid and prolific change, of much instability and uncertainty, with loss and pain always hovering over us -  I think that deep down, we need to know that there is something tangible in this world that will always be there.....the same.  I think that something is the Church. And I surmise, from the relief on the face of Mr. "Haven't Done This in A Long Time" - as well as from his hasty retreat to the Holy Water font - that the same is true for him.

this video is absolutely HI-LA-RI-OUS! click below to view.

Stephen Colbert - The New Pope

ready, set, ASH WEDNESDAY!

Not too long ago a friend asked me if the idea of having so many more years of fertility left ever scared me. A hilariously frank question it was - especially coming from a woman with just as many children but more years of potential fertility. After a good laugh, I paused to think about what was the most honest answer to that question. There was no single answer.

I love babies. I love having babies. I love labor (seriously!) and the six precious "newborn" weeks that follow. I love having four amazingly different children. I love large families. I desperately want more children.

I hate being pregnant. I get depression during pregnancies. I feel overwhelmed daily by the relentless needs (and demands) that four children place on my time, patience and energy. I wonder how on earth we are going to afford to put even one child through college. And some days I just want my body back in the worst way.

Now, to clarify, when I say I want my body back, it has nothing to do with weight or stretch marks or varicose veins, because the kids have been very, very gentle with me in that regard. But I am often jealous for a little physical break from the four little hijackers who have taken over all my bodily capacities. There is hardly ever a point in the day where either sweet baby James (kind of still a newborn) or wee Joseph (not quite two) isn't in my arms. Those guys get heavy after 783 minutes and counting. While holding either one of them (or, often, both of them) I can't fold laundry or mop floors or pick up the endless, endless debris off the floors. Did I mention there is endless debris on my floors? When I melt into bed at night, ever square inch of my back absolutely aches from all the holding. And no one can fathom what it is like to bundle four children (age five and under) against the cold, get them all snapped and buckled into car seats, drive to a destination, unsnap the three helpless ones, strap the baby to your chest, carry the toddler in your arms, try to hold onto the hand of the (unbelievably accident prone) three year old and try to keep hands, or at least eyes, on the (irrepressibly exuberant) five year old while accomplishing errands - and then have to repeat the whole process to get back home. "Is this safe?... or rational?"  I often wonder. Truly, no one can understand how very, very physically draining it is - except the woman who has done it with five very young children.

It's news to nobody that very young children need their mothers' body in so many ways. I'm not surprised by the idea of being so physically necessary - I'm shocked at the living reality of it. And then there is the reality of being physically necessary to a husband as well.....but I am so not going to get into that because, like, I have parents and in-laws who read this stuff.

The point is, my body is tired. My body is the center of this home, of this family. I remember early in Maria's life meditating on how beautiful it is that, as the heart of the home, it's my body that provides life, love and complete nurturing to a whole family. And it is beautiful. A very, very exhausting beautiful. I used to congratulate my friends on new motherhood with the words, "Welcome to the most complicated, beautiful, exhausting years of your life!" (I've since stopped. They don't believe me. They aren't tired enough yet.)

Nothing prepared me. My friends never needed my body. True, some of my friends are kind of the hug-gy types, but I am totally not. I'm that awful friend whose whole body goes a bit stiff when you hug her.....who squirms awkwardly in a tender friendship embrace....who plots my goodbyes so that I escape sans physical contact...whose husband has to hiss "HUG HER" when he watches me console a teary friend. I'm totally not into phycial affection. But - and this is true - I am great about it with my kids. I'm a very snuggly mama. (However, that one child I have who likes to mouth my arms and shoulders while I read books aloud....I really have to give it my all to not run screaming from the room....I keep trying to subtly shrug away until finally I burst out, "Honey, couldyoustopthat, please, love, darling?")

These are not "beautiful thoughts". This is not the stuff of an uplifting blog post. But I share them because most of the young mothers I know - even the really really holy ones - are thinking them almost as much as I am. Maybe more. But recently I was given a book called Parenting with Grace by the Popcaks. It's based on the principles of Pope John Paul II's Theology of the Body and it has completely changed the way I relate my children. Years ago a friend shared with me how, when a nursing baby awoke her for the sixth time in the night, she would pray in Jesus' words "This is my body, given up for you." It sounded so beautiful that I was rather put out I hadn't thought of it myself. But I struggled to really live it. And beyond that one phrase and one situation, I would never have thought to apply TOB to parenting, but I've experienced a profound paradigm shift from reading this book. Because the book has re-ordered my priorities as a parent & changed the way I perceive my vocation as a mother - as well as altering the way I see my children themselves - it has been easy to be more generous to them in ways both physical and emotional. It has been more joyful to give - not just my body, but my time and my attention and my whole life, given up for them. I should not be amazed to find torrents of grace issuing forth from the life and labors of John Paul the Great, even if it comes from him only indirectly. Either way, the grace originates in God and I don't think either the Popcaks or the Pope would argue with that. And what else can you call it but "grace" when you find it easier to imitate Christ? The book is aptly named.

This book is a major component of my plan for Lent 2013. I somehow can't manage to read a book slowly, so right now I am tearing through it, devouring it, racing rapidly from page to page. Over Lent I will re-read it.      s.l.o.w.l.y.      Over Lent I will read and reread, write in the margins, study it, take notes, deeply absorb it and attempt to conform my life to the points that the Lord chooses to plant in my (thorny, thorny) heart. I've learned (from the Fr Philippe treatise on peace that I have been rereading daily for two years) that this is a far more fruitful way to do spiritual reading.

If Lent is a time to take stock of how well we are responding to God's relentless love, His reckless generosity, then nothing seems more appropriate to me than to make a huge effort to live our vocation, our everyday mission field, our Big Gift from God, in a more generous capacity. After being tested to the very limits during our overseas mission, Richard and I are relishing the graces that have followed since; it's been a lovely season of almost constant joy and tenderness in our marriage since returning home. I don't think the Lord is challenging me (right now!) to live my vocation as a wife with more generosity, gentleness or patience. A little more submission probably wouldn't hurt.... but all things in time.

I know for certain this Lent is my season for growing as a mother. I do not think that the grace contained in this Popcak book is going to take away the tiredness. I think it is going to add to the joy.

That's almost as good.

No - it's better.

The joy of the Lord is my strength. 

-Nehemiah 8:10

For those who wish to use Lent as a time to grow in their marriage and are interested in inspiring book on marriage: I've not read it, but in addition to their amazing parenting tome, the Popcaks have a book on marriage called For Better....Forever. 

For those not married, there is Emily Stimpson's The Catholic Girl's Survival Guide for the Single Years.

 I offer no book suggestions for priests, religious or young men because I am completely ignorant

 concerning appropriate titles 
and because I suspect I have very few readers

 who fit into the aforementioned categories.

If any wish to suggest other excellent titles for parents, married couples, singles 

(or priests, religious and young men!)

please feel free to leave a comment with recommendations!