But Enough About Me---Bonnie Needs Votes!

Dear Readers,

Have you checked out Bonnie's blog, the Knotted Life? She is a gem of a writer. In honor of our spiritual friend, Venerable Fulton Sheen, she is hosting a hilarious, insightful, and extensive list of blogs who are competing for the first ever Sheenazing Award

Here's how Bonnie describes the concept behind this new award:  "It's like we're the Foreign Press Association and this is the Golden Globes for the Catholic blogosphere. These awards are named for Venerable Fulton J. Sheen - who was amazing when it came to using the newest forms of media to share Christ with the world.
Please vote for one blog/blogger per category."
Voting is open until 7PM EST/6 PM CST today at this site.

Yours truly is nominated for "Insightful Blog". There are so many of my dear blogging friends that are nominated also. Go vote for your favorites! Remember to bookmark that page for future reference. I can't wait to discover some new favorite blogs from this extensive list. Thank you Bonnie!

After you've voted, go watch some clips of Blessed Fulton Sheen on You Tube. He is awesome. His joyful smile and swirling red cape will make your morning.

Venerable Fulton Sheen, pray for us bloggers!

Am I Poor?

I'm sensing a lot of negatively about the central question "Do I have the right to call myself poor?" Also, a related question "You are only poor because of your own stupid financial decisions. Stop tormenting your children, start living "smarter" and then you won't be poor anymore."

I'm not really good at answering these sort of questions, but I'll do my best.

I feel poor. Objectively, I'm at the 165% of the poverty level for my family size in America. I'm not qualified for Food Stamps. There are many needy families who struggle far below me. Yet, 165% of the poverty line--that's not "nothing." If I was a single person at that level I'd make $17,000 a year. I could be a total idiot, but living comfortably on $17,000 for the rest of my life--that would be a struggle for me.

I also feel poor because my childhood was spent among the Upper Middle Class. I totally lack good financial savvy skills to live on a tight income. I also have a lot of vague worries about parenting--like am I being a good parent if the child who really loves music doesn't have a piano to take lessons on.

Am I stupid for renting a cello? Yes and no. I rented a cello for three months. There's not guarantee that I'm going to be able to keep it. I might lose it in March, but man has it been heavenly! I truly benefited so much from having a dream come true at age 38. I benefited so much from having my stress level go down to zero after playing the cello while I dealt with some emotional painful stuff over Christmas.

The bigger questions is "if you're poor are you allowed to have some nice pleasures in life?" I think holy recreation is great. One of the things that is unique about me is that I'm an artist. It doesn't make any logical sense, but seriously, I am a better human being if I buy $3 worth of flowers and put them in my kitchen windowsill each week. I love flowers. I love beauty. That little "perk" I get when I come into my kitchen it is a smile. That smile is tangible--that means more love and more gentleness in my heart for dealing with the toddler having a tantrum on the kitchen floor in front of me.

"But you are doing so many things wrong! You could be saving money left and right. You could grow your own flowers and bake your own bread and use cloth diapers." Yes and no. I'm in a hard season in my life. I'm alone for 14 hours each day with 5 kids under age 10. Two are having fits with teething. Two are having fits with homeschooling. I recently moved to a new city and have yet to find that easy friendship to swap free babysitting services. I'm starting a new life in West Virginia from scratch--and its a little rough at the beginning. Getting into a smooth "cost effective" rhythm is going to take time.

So, yes. I have done quote "better with cost saving measures" in the past. We've done cloth diapers. We've boycotted McDonalds for five years and Wal-Mart for ten. We've baked our own bread. Right now my approach is "easy does it." I try my best to save money, but I'm not going to kill myself with stress. At this moment, I still have a young infant who is high needs. I have a new house that needs much renovation. I have a husband who has a very hard commute--and a marriage that really needs tending too.

For me, it's really about getting back to basics. I need to pray regularly. I need to shower and fix my hair. I need to run in the morning. Honestly, I need time to relax after tending to Baby Abigail and Toddler Tess. I adore my girls. Yet they are both intense. Part of my money management challenges is the simple sounding, but hard for me task- of not overspending simply because I've had a hard day. So at stupid as it seems, building in planned "Abigail's sanity money" into the monthly budget helps me save tons of money from impulsive spending trips to Target. For example, I did one session of fencing this summer at $40 per month. It was awesome. It got me back into shape after the baby and helped me cope sanely with her colic. Right now, I'm running in the morning. That is free.

I feel like living life "well" on a small budget is a work in progress. I do a step. I refine it. I try again to make it cheaper, easier, better. My goal as a Carmelite is not--we're going to eat beans and hotdogs for the rest of our lives every Monday. My goal is we're going to create some new family patterns that are efficient, affordable, and sustainable for life.

"Why are you so calm? Aren't you excusing yourself for the double sins of sloth and mismanagement of God's material resources?" I wasn't always calm about money problems. This is very new. I have patience with myself while learning a new skill. I have patience with myself during a time of major transition.

This is the very first home my husband and I have ever owned. For the past 11 years, we've been renters. Rent in our Metro-DC area was much higher than our current mortgage, but it meant we never had to worry about home maintenance issues. When the heater broke in the past, I simply called the landlord. Right now, my husband and I are trying to figure out "what needs to get fixed", "how it needs to get fixed" and "how do we pay for it." That means hiccups.  I write about the hiccups in our financial life because I'm a writer. The hiccups are the story. I don't write blog posts that say "yes, we cleared all the bills this month and had extra cash to spare. Score!"

"Lay Carmelites don't really take a vow of poverty." Yes, I did. My order is the "discalced" Carmelite, which means "shoeless" in Spanish. We're the poor ones, in the tradition of the Carmelite reformer St. Teresa of Avila.

"What does that mean to have a vow of poverty as the Mother and Father of a family." I don't know. I'm figuring it out slowly in prayer. This is not how I was raised. It doesn't feel "natural" to me yet. It's an exciting journey, and I look forward to seeing what God has in mind for us.

Poverty--Babies--And the March For Life

I feel in my soul that there are abortions happening in America within married couples because they are afraid that having baby number three, baby number four, or baby number five is going to make them less rich than they are currently.

I think as Catholics, we've done a great job talking about the morality of life starting at conception.

I've read many inspiring posts talking about the Italian saying "every baby comes with a loaf of bread under his arm."

What I haven't heard someone write about yet --is that even if you're not perfect with your money management as the parent of a larger than average American family--that its not the end of the world. The bad days of feeling "poor", really aren't that bad. God is real. God helps us follow his will.

The change to becoming a better money manger is gradual and sometimes uneven, like all spiritual growth.

Yet its not that hard. It's not that embarrassing. And its really, really worth the effort.

Leaving Room For God Inside Our Financial Plan

(for my husband Jon)

(Just a brief introduction to myself for new readers. My name is Abigail B. I'm in my second year of a 3 year temporary promise to live out a life of "poverty, chastity, and obedience" as a Discalced Carmelite)

Poverty is something that is so beautiful to the Franciscan and the Carmelites. Our orders spring from a similar time of reform in the Middle Ages --the meaning of which is "to beg." It's still arresting to see the Franciscan monks with their bare legs in the freezing January cold during the March for Life. When I see a rough habit of the monks and the nuns, my heart leaps.

I am a married woman. My husband is a fellow Carmelite. We have five children in our home. (May God bless us with more.) Our desire to live out a life of poverty in our home looks different from the Carmelite Nuns in a convent--but the desire is the same.

Two things that I've started to embrace--after a long internal struggle--is this idea of supernatural prudence and the avoidance of financial paralysis.

I come from a childhood of wounded trust. I didn't get financial planning skills from nurture. I totally lack them inside my inherent nature. To compensate for my deep shame--I globbed on to this notion that "I'll make myself a sound financial planner with my brain." There was one car trip that I listened to 15 hours of straight tapes by Suze Ormond on the back roads of Wisconsin because "by golly, I was not going to make my parents same mistakes." I was reactionary in my zealousness for knowledge. There was a "right way" and a "wrong way" to handle money. I was firmly going to be in the "smart cookie camp" thank you very much.

The problem with this approach was it was very much motivated by self-love. I hated people thinking that I was a screw-up--so I had to be extra competent in everything. My supposedly savvy ideas came from "outside myself" and were motivated by vanity. This lead me to be very brittle and very self-righteous.

So what does God do with a girl who already knows everything at age 25--He makes her fall in love! And get married! And become Catholic. And have babies, and more babies, and a long painful bout of secondary infertility where there are no babies.

Though it all, God is constantly rebuilding her heart--heart surgery of the most serious kind--and he's constantly saying "I AM THE PLAN."

That work is so hidden and so gradual that I didn't realize exactly what is going on until I got stuck in Wal-Mart--alway from my entire family and ten weeks old baby--during a freak Tornado last summer. The guy next to me said "I bet you didn't think you'd be facing a Tornado at 10 PM when you woke up this morning, did you?" I looked at him with this speechless look thinking "Man, I'm a Carmelite and today is the Feast of Saint Peter and Saint Paul. I never know what is gong to happen when I get my feet out of bed in the morning, but no, the task of praying the rosary through a Tornado is not unforseeable in my line of work."

(Get that connection dear readers? God is the PLAN. In June, my plan was to make a quick trip to Walmart to grab diapers at 10 PM at night, but God's plan was for me to practice trusting in him while I was all alone during a once in every 100 year freak thunderstorm called The Derecho.)

So financial planning is a part of the virtue of prudence. (Temperance, also I think. I lack that one. My spiritual journey is all about reigning in my emotions and keep a cool head during times of stress.) Prudence is good. Prudence is important.

Yet there is a virtue higher than natural prudence--supernatural prudence.

We can see that very clearly in response of a Religious Sister's call to her vocation. For example, Blessed Elizabeth of the Trinity was a sunny girl who had extreme talent as a pianist. She joined the Discalsed Carmelite Order in mid-nineteenth century France. Her convent was so poor, it didn't have a piano. When Elizabeth joined the Order, she gave up playing the piano for the rest of her life. There were so many good Catholics around her that said "this is totally stupid woman! Join a less restrictive Order. Why are you throwing away such God given talent?" But Elizabeth knew that her heart belonged at Carmel--that is where she could best access Jesus. Because of her sacrifice, we Catholics have one of the most beautiful descriptions of Interior Silence written in one of her letters. It took a talented musician to "hear" the beauty of pure silence.

When a young woman enters Religious Life, that sacrifice of "poverty" makes sense to us. She can choose not to pursue money in her life. She's single. She's got free heath insurance, and free clothes and free food for life. She is exhibiting "supernatural prudence" in her poverty. She is living for heaven, while still on this earth.

So our Carmelite Sisters are our example! God bless them for being such a holy and good example to us.

However, it's easy for people to dismiss the Carmelite Sisters as being "pie in the sky idealists." Well, that's great for you to talk about the virtue of poverty Sister--you don't have to buy shoes for your children, or prom dresses. You don't have life insurance bills, and car insurance bills. You don't live "in the real world."

That's where the gift of my husband and my vocation as Third Order Carmelite come in. We're a real family in 21 Century America just like our neighbors. We're not perfect. We're not special financial geniuses. We don't have some mystical messages regarding which stocks to invest in, or how to best trim the fat off our budget.

In fact, we're most likely more stupid than you, dear reader. More selfish. More emotionally immature, and less equipted to deal confidently in the challenging world of marriage, parenthood, work, and community.

My gift as a Carmelite wife and mother--is that I have these cheerleaders. These three Doctors of the Church--St Teresa of Avila, St John of the Cross, Therese of Lisieux--they are a trinity of love and guidance. In front of them is the great prophet Elijah and always, my dear Mother of the Heart, Our Lady of Mount Carmel--Mary, the Mother of God, herself.

Each of these five, real, holy people were NOT financial genius. In fact, it would be sort of comedic to have an imaginary interview with these Saints and Suze Ormond. But these Saints are my friends. Out of all of them, only Mary the Mother of God, had a vocation similar to me. Somehow the challenge is to live out a life FOR MARY and OF MARY in the middle of present day America.

My husband likes to say constantly, "We are not Amish." In other words, We are not living in the past. We're not trying to live out a Medieval Ideal of Carmel from the 1200s--like a historical reenactment play. We're trying to bring a zeal for the virtue of poverty into the present.

What does that look like? I dunno. I'm still working on it. All I know is that part of the financial plan is for this specific family to live in a Little House, on a short street, in a West Virginian town and struggle to better heat their home without spending much money in the middle of winter. For me, living out the virtue of Poverty in real time is sort of mundane, often embarrassing, yet sometimes spiritually useful.

It's an honor to put on my Marian Apron in the form of a Brown Scapular each day. It's an honor to struggle. It's an honor to serve. It's an honor discover what hidden splendor He gives me each day. Thank you Jesus. Thank you Jon.

St Joseph, Lover of Poverty, pray for us!

On Being Poor--"What's the Big Deal, Just Accept Help"

Receiving Charity is something that is hard. It's good to ask for help. It's good to accept help that is offered.

I love being poor because it makes me FREE. I'm more free to say no.

So when you are poor, people freak out. They want to "rescue" you from your poverty. I'm still trying to figure out the boundaries, but I like saying no to presents that aren't good for me. So here are my working guidelines--fledgling boundaries if you will.

First: a gift is free. It's from the heart. There are no strings attached. When you receive a gift that is inspired by God--it makes your whole heart sing. Even if I'm embarrassed or tongue-tied--there's a rush of good feelings inside my heart that makes me happy.

There are these other objects that are called "gifts" that aren't really gifts. There isn't a hidden price tag to the gift. Here are some hidden price tags I've run into in the past.

--you are obligated to thank the giver--profusely. Often. In person. In writing. On the telephone. Over and over again for months, if not years. You have a "thank you debt" that never gets paid--despite fulfilling the polite society guidelines of Miss Emily Post.

--you are obligated to display the gift in a prominent place. If your children receive new clothes, they must be dressed in such clothes when a giver visits. Or pictures taken in the new clothes and posted promptly on Facebook. If it's a coffee maker, it should be in your kitchen when the giver comes to visit.

--if you ever don't "use the gift" or "appreciate the gift appropriately" the giver will come into your house and take the gift back. (The old non-PC term for that act was "Indian giver")

--conversely, if you politely tell the giver you can't use their offered gift--because it's a live pony-- a gift pony will still show up on your door step two weeks later anyway--without any hay, or a saddle, or a stable to put the pony in at night.

--you are given (usually with a dramatic flourish) old junk--things that are broken, old, worn out. Bulky items that you are actually doing the giver a favor by taking instead of necessitating a run to Goodwill.

(I run into this often. I feel like there is a syndrome where people don't want to give to Goodwill but do want to give "useful" things to someone they know. Sometimes I take a collection of objects like clothes, sort through them, and donate almost every to Goodwill. There was a time in my life when I lived in a 2 bedroom City Apartment and didn't own a car. I started saying "No' because I couldn't get to Goodwill.)

--you are given a gift, but this gift still belongs to them. You only have "use" of the gift for a specific time and a specific purpose. Usually this limit is unspoken and applies to mysterious things that are not self-evident, such as used crib sheets as opposed to heirloom jewelry.

--you are given a shiny, attractive, non-dangerous gift and mysteriously told "Do NOT let your children touch this, ever!" even though you share your life with five children under the age of 10.

I'm sure I'm the only one on the internet who has such nutty stories to tell, but the "non-gift" gift giving examples could go on all day.


*****

So this is my discovery while living in an imperfect world as a new Carmelite.  Many people in America have a sick relationship to "stuff." For the first time this Advent, I did not think it was crazy that many women spent lots of stressful time and money shopping for gifts during the Christmas season. I did not say smugly "the best things in life aren't presents" and "you should just remember the real reason for the season--Jesus!" I recognized that many "I'm too busy to pray during Advent" Christian woman, are like me. They have people in their life who will displeased if they don't open up the right "stuff" under their Christmas tree.

A lot of people (me included) don't have HIM. There is a hole where He is supposed to be. And that hole gets filled up with stuff. Maybe your drug of choice is Achievements, Popularity, Shopping or Cocaine. Society grades you differently depending upon which addiction you choose, but God sees it similarly. It's all "NOT Him."

So when I start to take myself out of the "if you love me, give me lots of stuff in the exact manner I demand in the moment" (which is always a moving target) things get weird.  

I don't have it figured out yet. When I accept gifts as gifts, I'm happier. I'm trying to get to the point where the Nuns are--they are so gracious when they accept gifts of food, money (or as the Little Sisters of the Poor laugh when they receive free grave sites--these Sisters care for the elderly, and get them just when they most need them). But the Sisters can't accept everything right? I mean, they don't accept clothing for themselves--they have a habit. They have a uniform.

(Sometimes I feel like donations of clothing and baby stuff are the most popular offer. Danya said when she announced a new pregnancy she could quote "hear the dump trucks backing in in the back yard." I feel that way too. Yet baby stuff by the fifth kid is virtually not needed. Clothes are also the hardest thing. All of my kids are artistic and individual. They are picky. They've got strong likes and dislikes. It's rare to find someone who is bigger than your kid who has the same taste.)

In the end--coming out of secular America and embracing the Carmelite ideal is uncomfortable--but worthwhile. I've very thankful for St. Teresa of Avila for being such an inspiration for me on this journey.

The Benefits of Poverty--Finding the Sweet Spot With Jesus

(for my husband, who encourages me to write with boldness)

I love being poor. I mean I hate it--most of the time. I feel little. And stupid. And like I'm doing something wrong most of the time. But sometimes, I adore poverty. It's a hidden gift from God-- a well-spring of riches.

Last week, we hit a rough patch in our finances. We got a generous bonus on New Years Day from my husband's employer. It felt great. This was his first substantial bonus in four years. I felt like his work was finally getting recognized. I stopped dreading the increase in our health insurance and the increase in Social Security taxes.

Almost always, anytime we get sudden "wealth" we quickly end up "poorer." It's like the careful balance goes out the window and its suddenly a scramble to get gas money for my husband's long commute.

When we had sudden wealth with the bonus, I had numerous plans on what was going to happen. We were going to pay off the violin and cello rental. I wanted to fix up our kitchen. We were going to pay off the credit card and have a cash "cushion."

Then we started spending the money and it felt horrible. It was hard to make decisions. Some things were cheaper than expected, but some repairs were more expensive. Every time we worked on the kitchen, we had to eat out. Even going to Wendy's or McDonald's as a family of seven is no longer a $10 deal. Then once we reestablished the habit of eating out--it became easier to eat out again. "Oh leading the Cub Scout meeting was hard tonight, lets go get McDonald frappes!"

Around January 15, when Jon got paid--we made up a new budget. We could pay the new higher health insurance premium. We were going to get leaner with grocery budget. Gas for the van was rationed to basically non-exisitant, and fast food runs were banned, and pay-out of the children's allowances were suspended for the rest of the month. The rest of the bonus money was going to pay down the credit card balance that got hyped up over Christmas.

Then our heat stopped working. Jon and I were in the midst of moving from an ancient oil heating system (the original 1950s unit that came with the house. It belongs in the Smithsonian!) that Jon said "felt like actually burning money" to these eco-friendly electrical heaters. We had three in the house. Jon wanted to buy more heaters with his bonus, but being the ever impractical one I said "oh, spend the money of buying another cord of firewood. The fire is so much more fun!"

The fireplace was great, until the cold snap happened. The new eco heaters worked great when the outside temperatures were 20 degrees. When it dipped down to 10 degrees and then 0 degrees, they couldn't keep up. It got to 59 degrees inside my house.

Now most of my kids were fine, because I live in a Cape Cod. This type of housing design was made by the Puritans to be efficient with heat. All the heat rises to the second floor. They have these little space heaters in their room and it was warm and toasty there.

Yet, the parents bedroom is on the first floor. I've got the 10 month old baby and toddler in my room. In my room that I might say is 8 by 10. Usually one of those little heaters you are supposed to bring to your cubicle an office keeps that room as hot as the tropics. When the living room dipped from 69 degrees to 59 degrees--our bedroom was no longer toasty. It got cold. Even under the down comforter, my little nose felt freezing. Jon started joking that he needed one of those old fashioned night caps to sleep.

We had two days of this coldness inside the house. It was this feeling of being stuck. We had removed all the water pipes to the original steam heaters, so we couldn't turn the oil furnace on again. Now that it was in the middle of January, we couldn't find any of the eco-heaters at our local hardware store. We called around and discovered we'd have to special order them. They would only arrive 9 days later. Nine days feels like a long time when you've got tiny babies in the house.

We tried stop-gap measures. Jon went to Lowes and got two conventional heaters. They did nothing. I returned them to the store, but the potential 48 hour delay in getting a refund on our debit card meant we had even less money.

Jon worked late one night. I broke down in fear and had a heart to heart chat with God. I told him "Okay, I need to get new heaters for the house and I'm really scared. This is going to put us in a pinch for the rest of the month. I'm really scared about even buying enough groceries to feed my family well until February 1. I need you to take care of me!"

I got all the kids in the car in the dark and in the cold at 6 PM. Just I was carrying the last load from the house, I saw the mail in the mailbox. I remembered that my husband always jokes "Lets check the mail, maybe there is a check from the lottery inside" whenever we got broke during his free-lancing days.

"I'll go check the mail," I thought. There was Alex's Boys Life Magazine. There was some bills and some advertisements. Then there was a card from my father. "Maybe this is the prayer answer" I thought as I tore open the card.

It's hard to describe supernatural feelings--but inside a greeting card there was an American Express card with my name on it. Readers, it felt like it burned my hand.

Last year, my husband kindly asked me to please stop using my father's credit card to pay our family's expenses. My father had added me as an authorized user to his credit card account. I had the card, he payed my bills.  It was supposed to be used for emergencies--but it became one of those emeshed, vague situations with unexplained rules and unforeseen strings attached. I felt the temptation to use it often. My husband also explained that to him, it felt like a form of disrespect from me. My husband wants to be the one responsible to pay the bills for our family. It was like I was still attached to my Dad mentally instead of "leaving and cleaving" to attach with my husband.

(I also have to say, I really used my father's credit card badly. I have a tendency to over-spend when I'm stressed. I'd have a bad day, and go spend $40 for treats for myself and my kids on my Dad's credit card without guilt. I knew that he wouldn't mind paying that bill in a few weeks but if I put in on our debit card--we'd be eating less in two weeks. It was a way of me "gaming the system" and not being held accountable for my poor way of dealing with stress).

So when I got that credit card in my hand--I knew I couldn't use it. I knew it was wrong.

I'd worked really, really hard for four months to stop this habit. I'd told my father that I wasn't using his card anymore. He gave me a new one anyway in Thanksgiving. So I cut up that new card and through it in the trash. Then I called American Express directly and told them "I don't want to be added to this account at anytime" and I asked to put a freeze on my name.

My married name.

The new card I was holding, had my maiden name on it.

I thought at first it was a new card. I thought my Dad had gone to American Express, found that my married name was blocked, and so added it anyway with my maiden name---and listed me as living still inside his house. (It was an old card, Jon told me later. But I didn't know that at the time).

Inside there was a note about seeing our home repairs, thanking me for making a home to "anchor the kids" and encouragement to use his credit card--for whatever I needed.

Readers, it is freezing cold. I am wearing more layers than Heidi. Inside my minivan, there are five cold and hungry kids. I'm about to drive to a neighboring state to spend all of my "emergency money" and a bit of my grocery money to buy more heaters.

I knew that this timing was not accidental. I knew I was being tested. The only reason I was able to act so clearly this past winter with setting boundaries with my family of origin was because my parents did not have a financial stake in my family anymore. (Otherwise, I felt like I owed them something.)

Somehow getting that credit card in the mail--the one I knew I shouldn't use--made my situation clearer. I wasn't at all confident that I was making the right decision in buying new heaters. I wasn't confident that I hadn't "mismanaged" my budget this January and that God would apply some "tough love" to teach me how to do things better.

But I know that the old me would have taken that credit card without thinking and said "Oh, here's the answer to my prayer. Clearly this is an emergency. Our home has less than adequate heat. I'll use this to buy hamburgers for the kids tonight and save it in case I need to make a grocery run next week."

I didn't pocket the credit card in my wallet. I put it with the stack of bills in my house. Then I got in my mini-van, with my five kids and went to two different Lowe's stores in two different states. I bought $11 of McDonald's hamburgers with my own money to feed my hungry kids. I spent $190 buying new heaters. I even went to Hobby Lobby for the first time for a victory dance (gotta support the HHS Mandate marytrs!) Hobby Lobby was amazing. My daughter picked out a picture that said "Jesus Loves Me This I Know" in purple cursive letters.  It was on clearance for $13.

I bought it impulsively, even with the tear on the corner. I told Jesus when I handed over my debit card--I know this is true. I know that you love me! I want to buy this sign for my daughter's room, even when I'm feeling worried about our poverty, because I want her to know inside the marrow of her bones that this is true too!"

I came home and my husband approved my extra impulsive purchases, hamburgers and Hobby Lobby's "Jesus Loves Me" signs. He was grateful I took five kids to a distant Lowes, so that he could easily make sure we had heat that night. Poverty looks hard, but it means an opportunity for more communication and greater team work inside a marriage. More risks equal more rewards.

We've got three more days until payday and things are working out. We've got food on the table and cheer in our hearts. I would never, ever grow this much in faith unless I had to constantly beg God for money. It gets me in the good habit of "begging" from Him for everything else in my life. Virtue comes from the Source. Love comes from the Source. He is the source of our living water--and he gives us his grace for free!

Notes From the March for Life

Just some random notes from the March for Life 2013

The March was incredible! There was such a feeling of joy and peace. Most of the Marchers that I saw were young--high school and college age. Oh and I ended up joining the March with the students from Notre Dame. Didn't one of the readers have a son who marched with them?

The crowd was exceptionally gentle and well behaved. We had no trouble staying together as a family. Jon had 10 month old Baby Abigail strapped to his chest. I pushed a stroller with 2 year old Tess. My 5 year old was a joyful trooper and walked the whole way.

There was one media group that stopped to interview a very elderly senior citizen in a wheel chair who was being pushed by members of her family. It was so sweet to see them. Pro-life--at the beginning of life to the very end! I told Hannah that I want to be pushed in the March for Life when I'm old! Then I said, "Wait, I hope there is no need for a March for Life when I'm old!'

We marched near the students from Mount Saint Mary's Seminary. They had these thrilling large Papal Flags. My kids noticed them right away. It felt so great to see so many happy images of Catholicism around us.

My favorite sign that was commonplace was "I am the Pro-Life Generation." We brought one home and put it up in our front window.

The crowd was very mellow. People prayed the rosary out loud. Some people chanted "Hey, Ho. Roe v Wade has got to go." It was great to see so many priests and Religious Sisters. I was laughing because the Sisters figured out how to push their veils out from their winter snow coat hoods.

I didn't see any graphic posters. Everything that I saw was encouraging and positive. "I am pro-life." "Adoption is the loving option." The one I guess "hard hitting sign" said "Is this the only pro-life thing you'll do all year?" from "seriouschurch.org"

It was really weird to see the Police Force. They were in full winter gear so you could only see their eyes out of navy blue ski masks. In so many of their eyes I saw fear. It was the weirdest thing. The crowd was so peaceful and calm, but the police looked "edgy". I couldn't figure out if it was simply the size was overwhelming to them, or if they actually expected us to suddenly turn into a riot.

The Supreme Court building was all under construction--there were just photographs of the building placed on giant mesh panels. I was a little disappointed about the flat effect--but then I decided that was symbolic. Change is in the air at the Highest Court in the Land, baby!

My husband and I just really felt great. We March for us! It's encouraging to be there with so many people from all over the country, from all walks of life--all being pro-life. Prayer works! I know that I'm so much more encouraged to pray because of those brief Hail Mary's my family said while walking up Capital Hill. Someday this evil will all be history because the inscription on our Supreme Court says "Equal Justice Under the Law." God loves justice and God loves life!

My Media Interview with a March for Life Participant

My Interview With Mimi (age 5)

(Question) What did we do today?

(Answer) We marched and we had a cookie and we went to a shop that had hot cocoa.

(Q) Where did we go?
(A) I don't remember

(Q) Was it close or far away
(A) Far Away

(Q) Why did we March?
(A) We want to change the law and we want the babies to stay alive and that's all.

(Q) How many people were at the March?
(A) More than a hundred.  They were carrying good signs about babies. I don't know about the signs because I can't read them. Oh, and people said prayers.

(Q) Anything else you want to say?
(A) That I love babies. I like babies that are Abby size* and babies that are smaller.

*her 10 month old sister.

March for Life 2013

 

March for Life 2013

 

March for Life 2013

 

It's Okay to Be Crummy Mommy

Roe v Wade is the current law across the nation. I wish it wasn't but the law of the land says that Mothers of unborn babies get a veto right. For today, it's alright in our nation to be pregnant, and change your mind about staying a Mother.

I want to talk about the horrible unspoken assumptions that make it so easy to panic about Motherhood. It's our own fears that drive us to the abortion clinic, not the police as in China.

Being a Mother is not easy. Being a Mother is not "automatic." Motherhood is a journey--the mother's heart has to grow in an emotional and spiritual plane just as dramatically as her young child's physical development.

I feel like the cult of Mother "perfectionism" has grown rapidly with the cult of abortion. There's less room for messy in our society. Less room for accidents---even within a marriage, even to a woman almost at the age of menopause. Birth control and abortion mean that a woman is expected to "have a plan" before each "planned pregnancy." The ducks are all supposed to be in a row---health care needs, physical needs, emotional needs, financial needs.

For any woman, married or single, who is pregnant and overwhelmed, I want to say kindly "it's okay to be a Crummy Mommy."

Life is a gift. It's okay to do this Mothering thing--"not well."

It's okay to not have a bedroom for the baby when you're pregnant and plan to squeeze her crib into the hallway of a one bedroom apartment in Chicago.  It's okay to be pregnant and trying to finish high school, or college, or graduate school. It's okay to be pregnant and not feel like you've got your life "together" or "decided" yet. You can be pregnant and struggle with a physical illness, or an emotional weakness.

There is a tiny being inside you--and you're already The Mom. You can trust this great energy (I'm religious so I call the Creator of the World, God)--you can trust that God will help you, and uphold you and wants you and your baby to succeed.

It's okay to do the most important work of our generation "imperfectly."

Why I Love My Husband

This recent cold snap hit while we're transitioning our home from an ancient 1950s oil heating furnace to these new eco-friendly heating units. Our house got down to 60 degrees for two days.

Last night, I spent the bulk of my husband's remaining bonus money on getting new electric heaters in Hagerstown.  (Now it's a balmy 69 degrees!) As I plunked down the debit card at Lowe's, I thought "there goes our March plans."  I figured that if the March for Life wasn't out because of the freezing temperatures on Friday, it was no out because of our lack of money.

Yet the irrepressible Mr. Benjamin is on the case. Here's the email I just got from him:

"OK $40 for gas, $10 for misc food. No metro: too expensive. Pack cooked cold hotdogs, PB&J, cake, and what ever else we can find. I will drop you off at the building museum and search for a parking place or we can stick together."


A $50 budget, so we March tomorrow!

(You all envy us our cold hotdogs tomorrow, right? All for you Mary!)

Put Your Face to the Wind

Today was a totally sucky day of endless spiritual battle. Yet at the end of the day, my husband and I got to kiss in a warm house in front of a fire.

Then my eight year old son, the "non-religious one" out of the seven of us, just said a pray intention for two young playmates who were ripped up emotionally after their parents divorce many years ago. We haven't seen these kids for fours years, or even longer. How did my son remember their names? How did he know to add them to his prayer intentions tonight?

The spiritual life is a mystery.

Dump the Frump: Scripture Edition

Many thanks to my friend, Rebecca at Shoved to Them for challenging us all to Dump the Frump this winter.

You didn't think your Carmelite friend would let all this hair attention sit at the merely physical level did you? Time to kick it up to the spiritual level, baby! There some beautiful Scripture passages about a holy woman's hair.


"One of the Pharisees asked Jesus to eat with him, and he went into the Pharisee's house and took his place at the table. And a woman in the city, who was a sinner, having learned that he was eating in the Pharisee's house, brought an alabaster jar of ointment. She stood behind him at his feet, weeping, and began to bathe his feet with her tears and to dry them with her hair. Then she continued kissing his feet and anointing them with the ointment." (Luke 8:36-38)


From the Song of Songs (4:1-3)

"How beautiful you are, my love,
how very beautiful!
Your eyes are doves
behind your veil.
Your hair is like a flock of goats,
moving down the slopes of Gilead.
Your teeth are like a flock of
shorn ewes
that having come up from the
washing,
all of which bear twins,
and not one among them is
bereaved."

Mavis Staples - Eyes On The Prize

Prayers for the Inauguration

Today is President Obama's Official Inauguration. I was a History Major in College. These used to be a big deal for me. Today--I'm just so not into politics.

Yet my parish priest laid the guilt on thick during last Sunday's homily. He reminded us how critical it is to pray for our President. He reminded us how that United States Presidency is a totally overwhelming responsibility. We need to pray for President Obama to surround himself with quote "wise counselors" and "to always seek the advice from God first in decisions."

That's a pretty grand prayer. I'm not sure I can get there with a sincere heart today. Yet I can pray that God will bless President Obama. I will have greater sympathy for the trials of his office. I will extend greater respect to the man and to the office. (Sorry, for all those mean quips on Facebook during the election God and President Obama. I'll try to do better in 2013).

My job is to do three things in my prayerful heart today. I've got love President Obama and wish the best for him. I need to pray for the upcoming March for Life on Friday. I need to have greater trust that my little hidden work inside this insignificant Catholic Family--is important and is changing the America I love for the better.

Keep Your Eyes on the Prize!

My Living Space

Pre-Bed Time TV
Okay, it makes no sense why my the toddler's show of "Martha Speaks" draws a crowd.  More importantly, why does the 2 year old control the remote in my house? Here is a photo of my 8 year old son pleading to watch another episode of Martha Speaks and my Tess saying "No!" It's that kind of inner spunk that kept her alive for three weeks in the NICU. God bless her!

My Living Space

 

I stopped by our Tax Guy last week. On our IRS forms my job listing is called a
"Homemaker." I sort of blanched at the title. I'm use to mentally calling myself "a stay at home mother." Homemaker sounds so patsy 1950s and not descriptive of me at all. I'm no Martha Stewart!

Yet, I started talking about this with my husband Jon. I'm going to try out that new label mentally this week. I am a "home maker." My family has a home because I'm often here in it.

I'm amazed that there are things to do inside my home. When I grew up, when I wanted to have fun, it was always outside my house. I went away to school. I went away for volunteer opportunities. I went away for parties, and dances, and music lessons. Home was a little impersonal. Like a bunk house. Home was where I slept, ate some meals, and did my homework. All the fun stuff, and the deep stuff, and the interesting stuff happened outside my house.

Now that I'm Catholic--it's like home is a fun place to be. Home is a destination. Home has all of these little nooks and crannies filled with activities that we love, and plants, and pets. Home is "us." And we are fun! Now when we leave to go to 4-H or Cub Scouts or play dates--it's a nice feeling to say "Oh, we've had so much fun but now we get to go home and have more fun!"

My Living Space

 

Playing Scrabble with Mommy and Daddy. Don't you love Tessy's "star" pieces? Those are hers. She plays them so seriously. She lines them up on her wooden board and then lays them randomly down on the Scrabble board when its her turn.
I never played Scrabble until three months ago. I was convinced I that hated this game. Solely out of kindness, I started playing with my husband who loves it.Turns out all of his kids are amazing at the Scrabble. I'm so blessed to have it in my home now!