Thoughts about Honesty & Motherhood for Advent

There is so little honesty in our public discussion of motherhood. Mothers are either described in the pious underpinnings of Hallmark Mother's Day Cards or complained about as the ultimate horror show on Dr. Phil message boards.

Being a mother has two facets---the "office" and the "individual."

I have trouble with the office of Mother. I'm not used to being in authority. I like running the cheerful camp counselor sort of Motherhood where obedience is mostly inspired, rather than demanded. It's taken baby number five to start to realize that I'm actually running a small country here and there will be lots of household routines that are based on respectful order, versus unanimous agreement.

As an "individual", I'm finding so much more peace breaking out of the mold and discovering that the individual soul named Abigail is enhanced by marriage and motherhood, rather than diminished.

It's a strange dance I'm doing. As I become more "me" my family starts to look different. We do home-schooling differently than other families in my parish. We do Daily Mass differently. We pray, eat, and do the laundry in our own unique style.

Yet the more I become an individual in my motherhood, the more respect I have for the "office" of Mother. There are beautiful, beautiful things that are common to all Mothers, in all times, in all cultures. We all get our source from Mary, the Mother of God.

This Advent, I'm focusing on our Mother's life as explained in our Gospel of Luke. Our Mother had such an embarrassing birth story--so strange and so wonderful. She was humble. She encourages me to embrace the things about my own Motherhood that are little and shameful. She reminds that the Infant Jesus will still find me at Christmas, now matter what state I'm in.

Mary, Mother of God, pray for us.

A Little Alice Miller for Advent

Sometimes its a little freaky to discover the great mystery of the Incarnation in a Psychology book--but the Infant Jesus is everywhere. There are so hearts that have "no room at the inn". Please God help me be more welcoming to children and my young self.

It is not hard to understand that parents are impatient with these adolescents, for people would rather submit to the strictest laws, go to all kinds of trouble, achieve spectacular feats, and choose the most demanding careers than be expected to bring love and understanding to the helpless unhappy child they once were, whom they have subsequently banished forever. When this child suddenly reappears on the lovely parquet floor of their lavish living room in the guise of their own son or daughter, it is not surprising that the child cannot count on finding understanding. What he or she will find is resentment, indignation, warnings or prohibitions, perhaps even hatred--above all, a whole arsenal of child-rearing weapons with which the parents try to ward off every unhappy childhood memory from the war years that tries to come to the surface.

-For Your Own Good, 1980

My goal for after Advent. Alice found an unusually kind and respectful elderly man in Germany and notices how he describes his Mother.

 I noticed that he didn't say, like most people, "My mother loved me very much," but instead, "She loved life," and I recalled having once written that about Goethe's mother. This elderly man had known his happiest moments in the woods with his mother when he had sensed her delight in the birds and shared it with her. Their warm relationship still shone in his aging eyes, and her regard for him expressed itself unmistakably in the way he now was speaking to the children at play. There was nothing superior or condescending in his manner, but simply attentiveness and respect.

(same book)

I love that! I love life! That's the kind of Mother I want my children to see even more of in myself!

If you're crying over the tragedy in Newton, CT

Please, please be gentle with yourself.

You may be a highly sensitive person with a warm and generous heart. I'm actually very careful now about the news I watch or read because I have such a long history of spending days in aching sadness after a national or international tragedy. Your empathy is a gift--and gifts are precious things that need delicate care.

My very caring priest gave his homily on Joyful Sunday with a reminder that this pain is for a purpose. He said the rose symbolizes the joy "breaks through" the violet of suffering. I instantly thought about the pain of infertility. The pain of infertility of a Catholic couple is so awful, but it is joyful in some inexplicable way because it's "pain that is going somewhere."

Do not get stuck in the awfulness of this sin. The Devil targets children. Children are holy. Children are powerful. Children convert hearts. Jesus tells us in Scripture that little children's angels "are face to face with God always."

Unlike the world that tells us that little children are sweet, fluffy, and harmless--I'm here to tell you my kids say holy stuff that is sometimes way up there with some of the powerful stuff written by the Saints. A clean heart sees God! A child who is baptized--is a part of the Church and can have way more influence in her family than a hundred homilies by a favorite Archbishop.

We would be horribly sad if a group of Religious Sisters were suddenly shot in rural South America. We would be sad, but we wouldn't be "stunned." We wouldn't lose our faith in God.

Do not lose your faith in God. People who are close to Christ suffer in this world. Jon of the Cross got thrown into prison--because he had a powerful heart. We are not yet into a perfect world when righteousness and justice will kiss each other. That day won't happen until  Christ's second coming.

What can you do--you can pray. And you can celebrate a hero, like Victoria Soto. And you can live your life courageously!

There is a spiritual war going on. This is a terrible battle--this national tragedy is right up there with the famous battles of WWII--but this is not end. We are promised victory--on earth and in heaven--because Christ fights with us and within us.

Immaculate Heart of Mary, Patron of the United State of America, pray for us.

Prayers for Dominic

My buddy Dominic looks so great. There was great worry that he might be blind after his facial surgery, but it appears from the photographs that he's looking at a toy. Praise God! We rejoice in all the mini-steps forward during a long hospital stay.

I think Dominic is scheduled for more plastic surgery today. This surgery is to help open his nasal passage so that he can breathe better while he takes a bottle. In the PICU eating well = going home quicker. Wisconsin wants her native son home little Dominic! Heal fast!

Dominic also has something called "water diabetes" that greatly complicates his treatment.

Many prayers for Dominic to have a smooth surgery today!

A List of Henry's Accomplishments

I chatted with Henry's Mom on the phone today. We joked about some of the incredibly bad books out there for comforting children after a death. One famous author talked about "celebrating their accomplishments." "That's a sentiment so geared for the death of an grandparent," Carla said. "What accomplishments are there for a toddler?"

I thought about her rhetorical question. I'm happy to say that Mr. Henry was an incredibly accomplished little man. Here's my partial list. I hope you'll add your own list in the comments.

1.  Henry introduced me to my friend Carla.

2. Henry introduced me to Reece's Rainbow.

3. Henry made the sin of abortion even more awful to me. Every time I read about a tragic situation in Eastern Europe, where a disabled kid is left in a cold metal crib for hours each day, I have to give this coda "but things are even worse here in America." What are we up to now in abortion of special needs kids? 90 percent for Down Syndrome kids?

4. Henry gave me this perfect mantra for how I feel for when I follow God's directions and still end up feeling totally overwhelmed task. When Henry's Mom called after getting bad news from CHOPS she said "I could have given $10 to his name and turned away."

5. Henry reaffirmed the incredible power of siblings. I'll never forget how Henry loved to splash in his Sister's Barbie pool. Or how he confounded expert physical therapists at CHOPS for days, but within hours at home and done all sorts of seemingly impossible post-surgery moment all in an attempt to steals his older Sister's Littlest Pet Shop Toys. Love makes the best physical therapists, not educational degrees.

6. Henry taught me the value of a name. He died. He didn't die with the last name of the father that abandoned him. He died with the last name of the loving father who moved heaven and earth to bring him home and clothe him in a name and a family.

7. Henry said Mama! He said Mama with his mouth, and his eyes, and his heart.

8. Henry was the only toddler in America who was allowed to eat McDonald's french fries after major surgery.

9. Henry smiled. A lot.

10. Henry learned how to smile again after major scary surgery that put him right back into the blank stare of his orphanage days. Henry accomplished resilient joy!

11. Henry got baptized. I believe he was confirmed and received last rites.

12.  Henry taught me that sick kids die. Sometimes suddenly. Even spiritual children I love and pray for constantly. Yet no prayer for a sick kid is ever wasted.

13. Henry taught me that sometimes God's happy ending never looks like something that would make a Mom jump on an airplane--but that we should take that "ride of a lifetime anyway."

14. Henry made me less afraid of special-needs adoption.

15. Henry taught me how to love the orphan. How to love a stranger and see a son.

Mister Mom --This movie is even funnier once you have kids!

Yo-Yo Ma - Bach, Cello Suites--Someday this will be my Monday song

Mr Mom--perfect Monday song

"Christmas Cookies" George Strait (My Hannah loves this song!)

Perspective

I received fantastic spiritual advice last night from a retired priest.

So to get the metaphor, open up your fingers and put your hand 2 inches from your face.  What do you see? Can you see your hand?

Then move your hand back as far as possible. Can you see your hand now?

Anxiety means "over-thinking a problem." We have a problem. Then we over think the problem and the resulting anxiety is worse than any problem we have. Worry and anxiety also never, ever lead to a real solution. That's because too much focus on a problem means we loose all perspective. We actually can't see the problem clearly because we're watching it too closely.

I thought that advice worked with everything from home-schooling worries to spiritual scruples.

Mary, Mother of God, helps us retain great peace this Advent.

On Being Dependable For God!

This has been the weirdest Advent ever. So I started Advent telling God "I want to stop being a perfectionist." All kinds of adventure got unwrapped with that prayer. On of which, I decide to resign from being a Religious Education teacher in December--instead of gutting it out until the class ends in May. All kinds of reasons piled up for why Jesus thought it would be a good idea to quit. The only reason for me to stay ended up being "I look really flakey if I quit mid year."

I talked it over with my husband and after a long time, I decided to send in my resignation by email. Right before I did that task, I remembered that one of my kids' character education words that week was "dependable." I sighed. "Oh I look really dependable by quitting teaching in the middle of the school year."

Immediately, I had this good thought. "I'm dependable to my husband and my family. I'm dependable to Jesus."

That is so much the crux of my problem. I want to "appear" dependable, kind, or trustworthy to others, but I totally neglect to actually act dependably to Jesus. I care more about the image, than the reality.

In 2001, I made a lifetime vow to marry my spouse. I promised to take care of my family. If anything clutters up or impedes that goal regularly, it has to go. Even Religious Education--which is a service to my Bishop. So by quitting teaching Religious Education mid-year--I'm dependable.

My Early Christmas Gift

Today was "pink candle Sunday" (as my 2 year old calls it) and also Carmel Sunday.  This was the first  time I got to attend a meeting with my husband in four months. Be still my heart!

Happy St. John of the Cross Feast Day

I LOVE THIS MAN!!!!

from today's reading

Though holy doctors have uncovered many mysteries and wonders, and devout souls have understood them in this earthly condition of ours, yet the greater part still remains to be unfolded by them, and even to be understood by them.

We must then dig deeply in Christ. He is like a rich mine with many pockets containing treasures: however deep we dig we will never find their end or their limit. Indeed, in every pocket new seams of fresh riches are discovered on all sides.

For this reason the apostle Paul said of Christ: In him are hidden all the treasures of the wisdom and knowledge of God. The soul cannot enter into these treasures, nor attain them, unless it first crosses into and enters the thicket of suffering, enduring interior and exterior labors, and unless it first receives from God very many blessings in the intellect and in the senses, and has undergone long spiritual training.

All these are lesser things, disposing the soul for the lofty sanctuary of the knowledge of the mysteries of Christ: this is the highest wisdom attainable in this life.

Would that men might come at last to see that it is quite impossible to reach the thicket of the riches and wisdom of God except by first entering the thicket of much suffering, in such a way that the soul finds there its consolation and desire. The soul that longs for divine wisdom chooses first, and in truth, to enter the thicket of the cross.

Saint Paul therefore urges the Ephesians not to grow weary in the midst of tribulations, but to be steadfast and rooted and grounded in love, so that they may know with all the saints the breadth, the length, the height and the depth—to know what is beyond knowledge, the love of Christ, so as to be filled with all the fullness of God.

The gate that gives entry into these riches of his wisdom is the cross; because it is a narrow gate, while many seek the joys that can be gained through it, it is given to few to desire to pass through it.

Prayers for Rebecca--The Pain of Infertility at Christmas

It is a heavy cross to be infertile during Advent and Christmas. I had the joy of a blogger meet up with Rebecca from the Road Home last Saturday. She is a gem of a Catholic woman! She has a mother's heart. Today it's broken. Instead of experiencing the joy of the Annunciation during this holy season, she got smacked with CD2. Please join me in prayer for her!

Mary, Mother of God, pray for Rebecca.

Blessed Art Thou - Blessed One

Think this is the new Marian Hymn we got to sing for the Bishop of WV tonight.

Am I Poor?

Yes.

(not to freak out anyone who knows us personally)

My family's only savings account right now has $80 and we have one IRA worth $300. Everything my husband makes walks right out the door each month.

We don't have one of those elaborate savings plans for saving for periodic expenses like dentist appointments or property taxes. We've got medical debt from having two babies--its not a lot from considering having a NICU stay and two c-sections (about $4,000) but enough.

So yes, we're poor.

We're also poor in comparison to our family's of origin. I was raised Upper Middle Class. My grandparents had four homes--two homes in Ohio, one vacation home in Michigan and one in Florida. I first. traveled to Europe when I was 15. My last trip to Paris happened at age 25. I graduated from a private women's college and I attended Law School Pretty much everyone I know as a kid, in college or in graduate school is either a) comfortably making 100,000 to 150,000 plus dollars a year, or b) has a low paying but super cool artsy job like doing lighting design on Broadway.

Looking forward to an Aldi's opening up in my neighborhood so that we can comfortably squeeze in diapers for baby number six into our grocery budget was sort of never, ever, ever on my radar screen as a college girl.

Do I really count as "poor" because I have a great education?

I have mixed results on that. I'm an artistic girl. I know that loving the Arts helps give my life enrichment and  confidence. But I've also got to say that College and Graduate School were

a) very expensive. I will pay off my student loans until I turn 65.

 b) because I was too paralyzed to go after my real dream of majoring in English--going to Law School helped make me feel even more anxious and neurotic. I was a good lawyer--but not at the Law Part, I was a good lawyer because I really enjoyed talking to people in trouble and translating their needs to a Judge. I went into Law with a Carmelite heart. Now that I'm a prayer warrior instead of "legal servant" I'm soooooo much happier.

c) my nerves about acing exams in Law School (and college) made me very preformance driven. To let off stress I engaged in unhealthy and sinful behavior (i.e. have pre-marital sex or "fornication" as we Catholics describe that sin).

So its not like 15 years later I say "Oh, I am who I am because of Smith College and University of Wisconsin Law School. Education is more of a mixed bag with me. There's good and there's bad. I'm glad I went to school--but since I did most of my education in mortal sin, its not like I attribute the joy I feel inside to what I learned in school.

Happy are you poor!

What I feel in my heart is such joy. Its not everyday. I still worry when a new, unexpected bill comes in the mail. I know through actual personal experience that GOD COMES THROUGH FOR ME.

It was a total act of trust that I quit working while having $103,600 dollars of student loan debt to become a stay-at-home Mother. I didn't make a "choice" like how I choose what to have for dinner. I just felt God tugging my heart firmly in one direction. God is so good, he even eased me into it. First I thought I was staying home for 6 months, then 'just a few years." When I finally really got that God was asking me to stay-home (and this is a very personal mission. My family has been out of the Catholic Church for 500 years--my maternal ancestor literally sign the pledge from Henry the VIII asking the Pope to annul his first marriage--God told me "I need your full focus because we've got to create a new Catholic Culture in one generation)--I was scared. I put up a little sign on my home-made alter "Jesus if you want me, I cost $103,600!

Am I poor?

I have HIM. He is my everything. God provides me everything. I never, ever thought we could buy a house. Last year--out of crazy circumstances--my husband qualified for a great, low interest rate, no down-payment mortgage. We have a darling 1,100 square foot brick Cape Cod house. I love it! We have two cars that work. We have a free dog and a free cat. We have 5 kids. We had a kid in the NICU with an insurance bill of $250,000 and God left us with only $2,000 out of pocket. Now I'm poor, so I'm still making steady payments on that bill--but its an honor. My girl Tess is out of this world precious to the whole world.

Am I poor?

I'm poor spiritually. I'm a really poor mother. I did not have any skills to raise children before I became a Catholic. I've got a tendency for anxiety and depression. Thankfully, they are objectively "light" according to my therapist. But it's still there and I in a situation where there's a lot of pressure. I'm pregnant often. I've got next to no extended family support. My husband works long hours. Most of my kids are highly sensitive and gifted--which means that they are a joy, but an extra challenge to parent.

I'm poor, but I'm rich.

In my weaknesses, He is my strength. Because I'm so little, I have great freedom of heart to lean on Him.

Jesus is real! He tells you what to make for supper. He helps you design yummy meals out of eggs, cream and pie crust. He makes my husband love to eat cheap potatoes every day for lunch.

 He told me in a dream to rent a cello--and I can't believe what a difference that has made to my life. It seems crazy to say, but my husband and I are working (slowly) on the adoption of a special needs child. I got nervous because I didn't think I was dealing well with a background question they asked about "do you ever discipline in anger". In regards to constant discipline, "I was a parent poor in spirit." I prayed about that. The answer was to "rent a cello." That seems so weird, but the cello is super, duper relaxing for me. I get my little cello lesson in during the day--it is no problem to have extra amounts of patience to discipline consistently and kindly my five feisty kids under age 10. With the cello, there is totally room in my heart to mother more babies in my life.

Am I Poor?

Because I gave God a small opening, I wasn't so grabby about material possessions (detachment the Carmelites call it). He knocks himself out to take care of me. The baby does not have baby socks (I've lost all but two pairs that I have to rewash all the time) and she only has one pair of hideously ugly silver shoes--but I have a fifth baby in my heart! I have a cello! I have a wonderful glowing Marriage that gets sweeter and more mushy every single year.

Blessed are the poor (or poor in spirit) for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven

(right here on earth, not some future pay off after death)

(Just to clarify for the comments, I'm advocating a vow of poverty for God--that does not mean that it totally sucks to be "involuntarily poor" as in a case of an addiction, or oppressive situations like the old Coal Miners in my home state of West Virginia. Also, I think you can be 'poor in spirit" i.e. detached from your wealth like St. Louis--who was a King, very rich, but always Served God First in his heart).

Poverty Rocks!

Jesus said "and the poor have good news brought to them." (Matthew 11:5)

(my Daily Prayer Reading today)

ALC UNConference13 Prezi Movie--I love my husband's art. It's so fun! He just won an award for this one.

Thoughts from Morning Prayer

"The just man's few possessions
are better than the wicked man's wealth."
-Psalm 37

I'm finally making peace with the fact that my children are not well dressed. I feel like I used Christmas as an excuse to get all "grabby" with the clothing issue. I obsessed about finding good clothing deals at Macy's and Target. I went over the "wish list" obsessively with the grandmothers. I spent my husband's Christmas bonus on warm snow boots and good ski coats.

This year, I'm trying to practice detachment. This past Saturday, for the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, I was ironing one of my husband's oxford shirts that he calls his "work shirts." The white fabric is worn so thin at the sleeves that it becomes translucent after being pressed with a hot iron. I looked at this sleeve and immediately felt awful. "This shirt is in such poor shape. I should try to get Jon some new work shirts for Christmas. . ."

I immediately started to feel that panic sensation in the pit of my stomach. With the poor economy, Jon isn't expecting a bonus this year. Our Christmas budget is the smallest its ever been in our marriage. I just felt instant panic "how am I going to buy my husband a new dress shirt, even one on sale?"

That's when my guardian angel helps with her good thoughts "Lets, just be thankful that Jon has this shirt to wear." My shoulders started to relax, "Yeah, that's what Advent 2012 was supposed to be about. Relaxing and trusting God with "the gift thing."

I finished ironing the shirt and got dressed--in my one blue church dress, the cotton one that is really meant for Spring. My husband ended up choosing another blue oxford shirt that was less worn. When I met him on the stairs I want to apologize that I because hadn't caught up with the laundry, so the only white shirt he had for church was the badly worn one.  Yet Jon greeted me first with a huge smile. "Oh we're both wearing blue for Mary today!" I laughed and agree that was true.

St. Joseph, lover of poverty, pray for me!

More Prayers for Baby Dominic Pio

More pictures of this loving family holding vigil by Baby Dominic's sickbed today.

Sometimes it feels uncomfortable to pray for a critically ill little boy, but remember Mr. H.'s lesson, "no prayers are ever wasted!"

Also, please stop by Mary's blog and write a short note reminding her that she's not alone today. Don't worry about saying the wrong thing, just say something.

(Note: if you have trouble like me with the verification system on her blog just keep hitting the refresh key (looks like a circle) until there is a number/letter combo that is easy for you to read).