Alcove
Eric Church - "Like Jesus Does" ((ACM Awards 2013))
alec vanderboom
Authenticity
alec vanderboom
My new word is "authenticity." It's a quick check of my heart. "Am I being authentic?" Am I doing something because I want to do it? Or am I saying doing something because its "what I'm supposed to be doing?"
I find Motherhood an absolute minefield of "supposed to." There is a glut of people who are eager to tell you how you are supposed to act, feel, and breathe in order to qualify for the label of "good Mother." I'm not really clear yet on what my internal standards are of Motherhood so I easily fall prey to these vicious voices in my head that are telling me I'm doing a crappy job all the time.
One of my new tricks is to just tell myself "I don't care." I've stopped grading myself on my motherhood. I'm tense when I think about how I'm failing these five little people in my life multiple times each and every day. So I just stopped obsessing about it.
My new task is to really embrace my role of being "Jon Benjamin's wife." I'm married to a specific man. Somehow that is so much more calming to think about delighting in being "Jon's wife" as opposed to trying to be a good WIFE in all capital letters. When I think about pleasing my husband, who is so easily pleased, its so much easier than trying to please an abstract social goal in my head that acts as a constantly moving target.
I'm finding that the more I focus on being a wife to my specific husband, Jon, the easier it is to care for our children. Our kids are the fruit of our marriage. It's like when I put the priority on our relationship foremost, then all my relationships with our kids fall into place. It's like somehow I'm a better mother to my kids by focusing less on them.
I'm starting to think that God is easy to please.
I'm learning that God doesn't want perfection, or impossible things. He's easy. He likes consistency, persistence, and a good effort. My husband eats my new hot chocolate souffle dessert recipes as happily went it falls as when it succeeds.I'm starting to believe in my Heart that God happily embraces me too when my souffle falls. (Souffle falls are times in my life are when I try something a little new, a little ambitious, and then it all falls apart and I'm left wishing I had stuck with making ever dependable brownies instead.)
I like cooking for my husband instead of trying to impress the imaginary Southern Living Editors in my own head. Cooking for one real man, as opposed to several imaginary critics, leads to more real peace.
I find Motherhood an absolute minefield of "supposed to." There is a glut of people who are eager to tell you how you are supposed to act, feel, and breathe in order to qualify for the label of "good Mother." I'm not really clear yet on what my internal standards are of Motherhood so I easily fall prey to these vicious voices in my head that are telling me I'm doing a crappy job all the time.
One of my new tricks is to just tell myself "I don't care." I've stopped grading myself on my motherhood. I'm tense when I think about how I'm failing these five little people in my life multiple times each and every day. So I just stopped obsessing about it.
My new task is to really embrace my role of being "Jon Benjamin's wife." I'm married to a specific man. Somehow that is so much more calming to think about delighting in being "Jon's wife" as opposed to trying to be a good WIFE in all capital letters. When I think about pleasing my husband, who is so easily pleased, its so much easier than trying to please an abstract social goal in my head that acts as a constantly moving target.
I'm finding that the more I focus on being a wife to my specific husband, Jon, the easier it is to care for our children. Our kids are the fruit of our marriage. It's like when I put the priority on our relationship foremost, then all my relationships with our kids fall into place. It's like somehow I'm a better mother to my kids by focusing less on them.
I'm starting to think that God is easy to please.
I'm learning that God doesn't want perfection, or impossible things. He's easy. He likes consistency, persistence, and a good effort. My husband eats my new hot chocolate souffle dessert recipes as happily went it falls as when it succeeds.I'm starting to believe in my Heart that God happily embraces me too when my souffle falls. (Souffle falls are times in my life are when I try something a little new, a little ambitious, and then it all falls apart and I'm left wishing I had stuck with making ever dependable brownies instead.)
I like cooking for my husband instead of trying to impress the imaginary Southern Living Editors in my own head. Cooking for one real man, as opposed to several imaginary critics, leads to more real peace.
Why I Love My Husband
alec vanderboom
Because when I prayed this Psalm during Morning Office the metaphor made perfect sense.
and as a bridegroom rejoices in his bride
so shall your God rejoice in you.
Thanks for still rejoicing in your new bride after almost 12 years, honey! You're setting me up for success with Jesus!
and as a bridegroom rejoices in his bride
so shall your God rejoice in you.
Thanks for still rejoicing in your new bride after almost 12 years, honey! You're setting me up for success with Jesus!
"A Foreigner to Worry and a Close Friend of Gaiety"
alec vanderboom
Let God tend to the hopeless-looking things. You are a Dominican, a foreigner to worry and quite a close friend of gaiety…It seems to me quite entrancing to be able to pile into bed realizing there is someone as big as God to do all the worrying that has to be done. Worry, you know, is a kind of reverence given to a situation because of its magnitude; how small it must be through God’s eyes…You can’t get everything done in a day, nor can you get any part of it done as well as it could be, or even as well as you’d like it; so, like the rest of us, you putter at your job with a normal amount of energy, for a reasonable length of time, and go to bed with the humilating yet exhilarating knowlege that you are only a child of God and not God Himself.” -Fr. Walter Farrell, O.P.
Building My Support Team
alec vanderboom
I just finished scheduling my kid's homeschool portfolio review with my "person." I can't tell you what a relief it is to have a licensed school teacher whom I trust conduct this review.
This past year, I realized that I have a tendency to have anxiety in key areas of my mothering. If I find a gentle and knowledgeable professional to help me, then I have far less anxiety in my daily life. It's not that I need everything in my life to be smooth and easy all the time, it's just that there floating "spots" of mothering that can use more TLC than others.
The three people who have really made it easier for me is my pediatrician, my dentist and my homeschool reviewer.
At first, God sort of dropped gentle people into my life. The first lactation consultant who showed up at my hospital bed five hours after the birth of my first baby was worth her weight in gold. I haven't always had perfect relationships with women assigned by the hospital administration to help me nurse, but that first one was amazing. I didn't need every baby's nursing to go smoothly once I got over the hurdle of being the first woman in my family to nurse in 3 generations.
In the past, I enjoyed great doctors when I had them, but I didn't take the time to really seek out good doctors for myself or my child. After Tessy's experience in the NICU, I knew I needed to find a great pediatrician in our new town, or I was going to pass out from anxiety with another newborn. I prayed and I looked. I ended up choosing a new doctor blindly over the phone four weeks before my due date. When I appeared at his office with a 52 hour newborn, I realized I had gotten my daughter a Family Practice doctor who saw kids instead of a proper Pediatrician. I thought God made a mistake. I was a little peeved at him! I'm like "Come on, I prayed about this. Here we are for the first evaluation which I'm super nervous about and you sent me to the wrong clinic!"
God doesn't make mistakes!
It turned out this Family Practice Doctor is a perfect support team member to me. He's relaxed. He's the father of 4 kids. He cares about my kids, but I don't get the typical topic of the month in Pediatric care. It's not "oh my gosh put sunscreen on the baby" (which I can already memorize by kid 5). He's deal is like real life medical tips. For example, at a well child visit for the 7 year old, he said "You know that chin strap on your bike helmet, Buckle it!"
I'm a little anxious when I go to the doctor. I'm usually alone with 5 kids under age 10. Someone is telling me they're bored, and the Toddler wants to touch stuff, and the baby wails to nurse right when the five year old needs a shot. We're a bit of a circus act. Add to it the anxiety that toddler has hearing loss, or whatever other concern caused me to drag sick child to the doctors in the first place, and the experience can easily become miserable.
My last pediatrician was a woman who had only one child. She liked to talk in great detail about whatever random question I throw out at her. She didn't really have a "quick chat" ready for an experienced mother. I got the "lets act like you've never had a newborn in your house ever before" type of detail. I left her office feeling stressed and judged. I accepted that treatment because I thought "Well, I deserve that. I'm doing something crazy having so many kids close together. What else can I expect from my doctor?"
What I've learned over time is that there are many people who will doubt my ability to be a good mother to five kids at once. I can't control that. Those doubt can arise unexpectedly from the pew behind me in Mass, the next grocery cart over at Wal-Mart or the grandparent who raises the "When is the Vasectomy Coming" speech outside the hospital nursery visiting room. It's important, however, that my Support Team not have that as their default setting "This Woman is automatically crazy to be a Mother of Five". It's worth the extra effort to find people who are both knowledgeable and gentle.
To keep my sanity as a stay at home mother, I have a pediatrician who "gets me" and is great with my kids. I have a dentist who makes visits easy on my kids and easy on my wallet. I've got a homeschool review who encourages me, challenges me, and provides the documentation the State requires to keep my kids off of truancy charges.
Some women have a nanny.
Some woman have their Mother who lives in the same town.
Some women, like me, are mostly on their own while caring for their kids during the day.
As someone who is by herself with the kiddos, I need a good support team that's got my back.
I found that I can deal calmly with the crazies at Walmart that smirk "You've got your hands full, don't you?" while I have exactly two children near my person. I don't need every interaction to be smooth and positive. Not everyone has to get "Stay at Home Motherhood." Not everyone has to like me and my kids.
But life is so much easier when a few key people "get us", the Benjamins.
Doctor.
Dentist.
Homeschool Reviewer.
Three specific people that make my life so much easier.
This past year, I realized that I have a tendency to have anxiety in key areas of my mothering. If I find a gentle and knowledgeable professional to help me, then I have far less anxiety in my daily life. It's not that I need everything in my life to be smooth and easy all the time, it's just that there floating "spots" of mothering that can use more TLC than others.
The three people who have really made it easier for me is my pediatrician, my dentist and my homeschool reviewer.
At first, God sort of dropped gentle people into my life. The first lactation consultant who showed up at my hospital bed five hours after the birth of my first baby was worth her weight in gold. I haven't always had perfect relationships with women assigned by the hospital administration to help me nurse, but that first one was amazing. I didn't need every baby's nursing to go smoothly once I got over the hurdle of being the first woman in my family to nurse in 3 generations.
In the past, I enjoyed great doctors when I had them, but I didn't take the time to really seek out good doctors for myself or my child. After Tessy's experience in the NICU, I knew I needed to find a great pediatrician in our new town, or I was going to pass out from anxiety with another newborn. I prayed and I looked. I ended up choosing a new doctor blindly over the phone four weeks before my due date. When I appeared at his office with a 52 hour newborn, I realized I had gotten my daughter a Family Practice doctor who saw kids instead of a proper Pediatrician. I thought God made a mistake. I was a little peeved at him! I'm like "Come on, I prayed about this. Here we are for the first evaluation which I'm super nervous about and you sent me to the wrong clinic!"
God doesn't make mistakes!
It turned out this Family Practice Doctor is a perfect support team member to me. He's relaxed. He's the father of 4 kids. He cares about my kids, but I don't get the typical topic of the month in Pediatric care. It's not "oh my gosh put sunscreen on the baby" (which I can already memorize by kid 5). He's deal is like real life medical tips. For example, at a well child visit for the 7 year old, he said "You know that chin strap on your bike helmet, Buckle it!"
I'm a little anxious when I go to the doctor. I'm usually alone with 5 kids under age 10. Someone is telling me they're bored, and the Toddler wants to touch stuff, and the baby wails to nurse right when the five year old needs a shot. We're a bit of a circus act. Add to it the anxiety that toddler has hearing loss, or whatever other concern caused me to drag sick child to the doctors in the first place, and the experience can easily become miserable.
My last pediatrician was a woman who had only one child. She liked to talk in great detail about whatever random question I throw out at her. She didn't really have a "quick chat" ready for an experienced mother. I got the "lets act like you've never had a newborn in your house ever before" type of detail. I left her office feeling stressed and judged. I accepted that treatment because I thought "Well, I deserve that. I'm doing something crazy having so many kids close together. What else can I expect from my doctor?"
What I've learned over time is that there are many people who will doubt my ability to be a good mother to five kids at once. I can't control that. Those doubt can arise unexpectedly from the pew behind me in Mass, the next grocery cart over at Wal-Mart or the grandparent who raises the "When is the Vasectomy Coming" speech outside the hospital nursery visiting room. It's important, however, that my Support Team not have that as their default setting "This Woman is automatically crazy to be a Mother of Five". It's worth the extra effort to find people who are both knowledgeable and gentle.
To keep my sanity as a stay at home mother, I have a pediatrician who "gets me" and is great with my kids. I have a dentist who makes visits easy on my kids and easy on my wallet. I've got a homeschool review who encourages me, challenges me, and provides the documentation the State requires to keep my kids off of truancy charges.
Some women have a nanny.
Some woman have their Mother who lives in the same town.
Some women, like me, are mostly on their own while caring for their kids during the day.
As someone who is by herself with the kiddos, I need a good support team that's got my back.
I found that I can deal calmly with the crazies at Walmart that smirk "You've got your hands full, don't you?" while I have exactly two children near my person. I don't need every interaction to be smooth and positive. Not everyone has to get "Stay at Home Motherhood." Not everyone has to like me and my kids.
But life is so much easier when a few key people "get us", the Benjamins.
Doctor.
Dentist.
Homeschool Reviewer.
Three specific people that make my life so much easier.
Tess, the Archer
alec vanderboom
The Hunger Games made it to Netflix this week. After family movie night, Tess walked around the next day with her brother's Archery Bow over her body. I love the comination of military strength with the fancy party dress and the baby doll tucked in her arm. My own mini-Katniss.
Me and My Cello
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Cello, Garden Seedlings (in the only sunny, child proof spot in my house--my bedroom window) and I even left the laundry pile uncropped from the photo because it seemed more honest.)
Going to Mass
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Coconut!
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Abigail Clare, age 1, and newly mobile! Also known at baby number five as the "cherry on top" of the Benjamin family.
Why I Wish More People Would Have Large Families
alec vanderboom
(No pain intended for couples struggling with infertility or miscarriages, of course)
I often struggle with what to say about the social perception that having lots of kids means there total chaos reigns inside my house. I know that I used to believe that birth control was justified because "I wasn't a mother who could handle lots of kids". It turns out, that God's grace is a mysterious thing.
One recent Saturday, I woke up to discover that Maria was finally old enough to be entrusted with the task to flip our brunch pancakes for the first time ever. She's my baker, so this was a big deal. So I got out my camera.
Once I starting taking pictures, I realized "Wow, there are four young kids in this small kitchen but life is still pretty peaceful." This is typical and yet it is still surprising to me. In this shot are Maria's 5, Tess is 2, Alex (talking about Cub Scout jokes with my husband) is 8. Happily crawling around the kitchen floor is Baby Abigail age 1. Not picture is my 10 year old who was still peacefully sleeping upstairs.
Being the Mother or Father of a larger than average family is not an impossibly hard job. More people, I think, could do the)is far better than I do but fail to give themselves (and the graces of marriage) enough credit. Praise God for the Catholic Church who gently encourages us to be open to life and gives us the grace and wisdom to follow God's lead in family life.
St. Teresa of Avila, pray for us!
Running for Boston
alec vanderboom
This morning I put on my running shoes for the first time in eight weeks. Bloggers Rebecca R and Jen A encouraged me to dedicate a morning run today for Boston. I haven't done a morning run since the flu took me down in Lent. I read their Facebook Status notes today and thought '"Guess I'm running today. No better reason to start again."
My five year old woke up this morning at 5 AM and ate breakfast with me and her Dad. That is so unusual. I kept trying to get her back to sleep again. At 5:45, I gave up and invited her to go running with me.
We tied up our sneakers on the front stoop to avoid waking up the baby.
"We going running for Boston today," I told her.
"Why is that?" she asked.
I sucked in my breath. I hadn't told them about the terrorist attack at the Boston Marathon. I found out via Facebook a few moments before Jon came home from work. I'd already finished dinner and the kids were setting the table. He didn't want to talk about it in front of the kids, so I closed my computer and went into dinner. It felt a little strange, like play acting, to eat dinner like nothing had happened. Yet it also felt right. I'm still doing my life as normal terrorists! My best fighting weapon is to fed and nurture and love my little family.
This morning, I finished kissing my husband before he commutes to work outside of Washington DC. As an afterthought, I tapped on his car window. "Do we have a plan in case something happens today? I know it won't, but if you couldn't call me, who would you call?" We talked a little and Jon told me "You stay here. Don't go anywhere. I'll move heaven and earth to get home." I teased him that it takes a special family to make "Jesus, I trust in you" their actual emergency preparedness plan.
When my five year asked me "Why are we running today?" I was silent for a while. Then I told her "Because the bad guys hurt us yesterday." I didn't have anymore words for her.
She didn't care. She loved the feel of her tennis shoes with pink glitter on the edges. She ran down the walkway in a rush to get to the sidewalk.
My girl was dressed head to toe in pink and her pinkish red hair was flowing behind her. She was so happy to be moving. "She's a runner," I thought. Then I surprised myself by thinking: "We both are."
Today, I ran with joy around my block, completed a single Hill Sprint and said one Hail Mary at the finish for Boston with my five year old. It's little. In running terms, its next to pathetic. But it is everything in the spiritual life.
My five year old woke up this morning at 5 AM and ate breakfast with me and her Dad. That is so unusual. I kept trying to get her back to sleep again. At 5:45, I gave up and invited her to go running with me.
We tied up our sneakers on the front stoop to avoid waking up the baby.
"We going running for Boston today," I told her.
"Why is that?" she asked.
I sucked in my breath. I hadn't told them about the terrorist attack at the Boston Marathon. I found out via Facebook a few moments before Jon came home from work. I'd already finished dinner and the kids were setting the table. He didn't want to talk about it in front of the kids, so I closed my computer and went into dinner. It felt a little strange, like play acting, to eat dinner like nothing had happened. Yet it also felt right. I'm still doing my life as normal terrorists! My best fighting weapon is to fed and nurture and love my little family.
This morning, I finished kissing my husband before he commutes to work outside of Washington DC. As an afterthought, I tapped on his car window. "Do we have a plan in case something happens today? I know it won't, but if you couldn't call me, who would you call?" We talked a little and Jon told me "You stay here. Don't go anywhere. I'll move heaven and earth to get home." I teased him that it takes a special family to make "Jesus, I trust in you" their actual emergency preparedness plan.
When my five year asked me "Why are we running today?" I was silent for a while. Then I told her "Because the bad guys hurt us yesterday." I didn't have anymore words for her.
She didn't care. She loved the feel of her tennis shoes with pink glitter on the edges. She ran down the walkway in a rush to get to the sidewalk.
My girl was dressed head to toe in pink and her pinkish red hair was flowing behind her. She was so happy to be moving. "She's a runner," I thought. Then I surprised myself by thinking: "We both are."
Today, I ran with joy around my block, completed a single Hill Sprint and said one Hail Mary at the finish for Boston with my five year old. It's little. In running terms, its next to pathetic. But it is everything in the spiritual life.
State Department Hero
alec vanderboom
Prayer Requests
alec vanderboom
Jennifer F got to hold her little baby Joseph for the first time since his birth this week. Please pray for her family to have strength during this trial of a NICU stay.
One of Hannah's Girl Scout friends has ended up in the ICU because of diabetes complications. Please pray for Trinity.
Maria's friend, Emma, is home! Yes! After more than 100 days of rehab. The girls are supposed to have a play date together on Tuesday. Yippee. Please pray for Emma's family, especially her Mom.
One of Hannah's Girl Scout friends has ended up in the ICU because of diabetes complications. Please pray for Trinity.
Maria's friend, Emma, is home! Yes! After more than 100 days of rehab. The girls are supposed to have a play date together on Tuesday. Yippee. Please pray for Emma's family, especially her Mom.
Why Blog?
alec vanderboom
I hate the term "navel gazing."
I read that on so many great Catholic women's blogs. A little shrug. "Oh I'm just navel gazing here since 2005." Don't know why anyone would spend all this time reading about little old me.
I got an answer to myself for the question, "Why do you blog?"
I blog for a sense of community. The spiritual life is hard. I don't have many people around me who are deeply and totally, in love with Jesus, their spouse, their kids, prayer, writing, history, gardening, and the cello. Writing is a way of establishing community--both online and in real life.
I take small risks at being more "weird" and "authentic" and "thinking outside the mainstream" by writing odd posts on my blog. Then this new pattern of boldness serves me better in real life. After blogging for six years, I'm more likely to share my authentic self with a new acquaintance at Church, Carmel, Swim Team or Scouts. Sometimes, being "real" gets mud thrown in my eye. But sometimes, I'll see that little twinkle of recognition and think "Wow, there might be real friendship possibilities here." I'm slowly finding "my people."
Jesus is in everything I do. He's in me. So I don't have to talk about Him, to be talking about him. You know? For example, I really have a passion for gardening. It's untapped. I don't know what I'm doing yet. But I know for sure that we were given this tiny 1/10 acre of lawn to become Urban Homesteaders. This year its sunflowers and tomatoes. Next year it's potatoes. Someday there are going to be raspberry bushes and blueberry bushes around me that I pluck bare for my Saturday morning pancakes.
That love for gardening, it's getting me people! It's slow and unsteady, but I'm already gathering my tiny, unofficial gardening club around my neighborhood. I love talking to people about plants. There is a special connection that is formed every time plant lovers find each other.
Every time I talk to someone in my new neighborhood about what they are growing in their garden--it's a Jesus conversation. We don't have to "talk Church, to talk Church." It's a holy, beautiful thing. It's an association. It's a community.
Our Lay Carmelite Order is establishing new rules about living in community. This passage is so beautiful, I thought I'd share.
"The human person, by virtue of his or her spiritual nature, grows through interpersonal relationships. The more one lives authentically, the more mature also is their personal identity, through being in relationship with others and with God. Therefore the community of the Secular Order, are places to live in communion and promote a personal and communal meeting with Christ--who is present when 2 or 3 are gathered in his name, seek to live out the command to love one another, and practice Christian virtues."
(Proposed changes to the OCDS Constitution)
I'm mentally rewriting that passage to fit the Christian blog community.
The Christian blogging community is a place to in communion and to promote our personal and communal meeting with Christ. Christ promises to be with anyone who gathers in his name, seeks to live out the command to love one another and to practice Christian virtues.
That's why the "navel gazing" comment seems so demeaning to our writing and has a false sense of modesty about it. When we write our blogs--with authenticity-- we're not gazing at our navels. We are gazing at Christ! The one who is with us, within us, and around us!
So readers don't come to watch you gaze at your navel. Ugh! Mine is filled with lint and leaking breast milk residue this morning. Readers come to form an online "community." To be strengthened in each of our personal relationship with Christ and to be motivated to keep climbing onward and upward in the spiritual life!
I read that on so many great Catholic women's blogs. A little shrug. "Oh I'm just navel gazing here since 2005." Don't know why anyone would spend all this time reading about little old me.
I got an answer to myself for the question, "Why do you blog?"
I blog for a sense of community. The spiritual life is hard. I don't have many people around me who are deeply and totally, in love with Jesus, their spouse, their kids, prayer, writing, history, gardening, and the cello. Writing is a way of establishing community--both online and in real life.
I take small risks at being more "weird" and "authentic" and "thinking outside the mainstream" by writing odd posts on my blog. Then this new pattern of boldness serves me better in real life. After blogging for six years, I'm more likely to share my authentic self with a new acquaintance at Church, Carmel, Swim Team or Scouts. Sometimes, being "real" gets mud thrown in my eye. But sometimes, I'll see that little twinkle of recognition and think "Wow, there might be real friendship possibilities here." I'm slowly finding "my people."
Jesus is in everything I do. He's in me. So I don't have to talk about Him, to be talking about him. You know? For example, I really have a passion for gardening. It's untapped. I don't know what I'm doing yet. But I know for sure that we were given this tiny 1/10 acre of lawn to become Urban Homesteaders. This year its sunflowers and tomatoes. Next year it's potatoes. Someday there are going to be raspberry bushes and blueberry bushes around me that I pluck bare for my Saturday morning pancakes.
That love for gardening, it's getting me people! It's slow and unsteady, but I'm already gathering my tiny, unofficial gardening club around my neighborhood. I love talking to people about plants. There is a special connection that is formed every time plant lovers find each other.
Every time I talk to someone in my new neighborhood about what they are growing in their garden--it's a Jesus conversation. We don't have to "talk Church, to talk Church." It's a holy, beautiful thing. It's an association. It's a community.
Our Lay Carmelite Order is establishing new rules about living in community. This passage is so beautiful, I thought I'd share.
"The human person, by virtue of his or her spiritual nature, grows through interpersonal relationships. The more one lives authentically, the more mature also is their personal identity, through being in relationship with others and with God. Therefore the community of the Secular Order, are places to live in communion and promote a personal and communal meeting with Christ--who is present when 2 or 3 are gathered in his name, seek to live out the command to love one another, and practice Christian virtues."
(Proposed changes to the OCDS Constitution)
I'm mentally rewriting that passage to fit the Christian blog community.
The Christian blogging community is a place to in communion and to promote our personal and communal meeting with Christ. Christ promises to be with anyone who gathers in his name, seeks to live out the command to love one another and to practice Christian virtues.
That's why the "navel gazing" comment seems so demeaning to our writing and has a false sense of modesty about it. When we write our blogs--with authenticity-- we're not gazing at our navels. We are gazing at Christ! The one who is with us, within us, and around us!
So readers don't come to watch you gaze at your navel. Ugh! Mine is filled with lint and leaking breast milk residue this morning. Readers come to form an online "community." To be strengthened in each of our personal relationship with Christ and to be motivated to keep climbing onward and upward in the spiritual life!
Poverty As Jesus' Special Kiss
alec vanderboom
Great. I start to write some cheerful posts about how Poverty is great for my Spiritual Life and Jesus is like "Yeah! Now you are talking! Lets go even deeper."
I sweetly respond: "No! Noooooo!"
Last night, Jon and I had a little budget summit about the Benjamin Family finances. May and June have the perfect storm of various bills all coming due at the same time. I'm the weaker of the two of us, so I started feeling the familiar pangs of anxiety pretty quickly. (I've nicknamed my anxiety "spiritual asthma." When I hit certain anxiety triggers, my body translates my nervousness into a physical sensation in my chest that makes it hard to breathe.)
So we're talking about the bills over an open laptop on my bed and I suddenly think "I'm having trouble breathing, I need my inhaler." It's not really bad, its just uncomfortable. I keep talking to my husband. We're problem-solving and throwing ideas back and forth. For a few seconds while I'm speaking, my eyes start darting around my room. "Where's my inhaler? I need to use it now."
There there was such a sad moment when I realized "I don't have an inhaler. All I have Him!" It was like I forgot for a moment that this constriction in my chest is all mental. I don't have asthma. There is no physical cure for the momentary discomfort that I'm feeling. Rather than feel better, I felt so sad and hopeless for a few seconds. There is no easy cure to stop this worry. "All I have is Him."
When people write on their blogs about St. Faustina's "Jesus, I trust in you" sometimes I feel like every other Catholic feels total serenity while saying those words all the time. When I pray that prayer, I'm usually not feeling rainbows and unicorns. When I pray "Jesus, I trust in you" inside a stressful event, the subtext in my head is often "Really?All I have is you? Because I sort of would prefer to have an inhaler, extra money in my bank account, and a live in maid!"
My prayer process is messy. Yet it works. I got through the moment by feeling only mildly uncomfortable. This morning, I woke up and my anxiety had almost totally disappeared.
The summer "food challenge" is on. This morning, I'm in the game instead of whimpering in a corner.
To comfortably pay all the bills that we'd like to pay this summer, I need to drop 1/3 of my grocery budget for the next 3 months. My husband is totally calm and thinks this is possible. As the main cook in our family, and the anxious one in our marriage, I'm thinking "Um, I don't know how we go lower than Oatmeal and Ramen." So that is my mission over the next four days until my husband's next pay period. "How do I make a healthy and edible meal plan on an even smaller budget?"
Jesus, I trust in you!
I sweetly respond: "No! Noooooo!"
Last night, Jon and I had a little budget summit about the Benjamin Family finances. May and June have the perfect storm of various bills all coming due at the same time. I'm the weaker of the two of us, so I started feeling the familiar pangs of anxiety pretty quickly. (I've nicknamed my anxiety "spiritual asthma." When I hit certain anxiety triggers, my body translates my nervousness into a physical sensation in my chest that makes it hard to breathe.)
So we're talking about the bills over an open laptop on my bed and I suddenly think "I'm having trouble breathing, I need my inhaler." It's not really bad, its just uncomfortable. I keep talking to my husband. We're problem-solving and throwing ideas back and forth. For a few seconds while I'm speaking, my eyes start darting around my room. "Where's my inhaler? I need to use it now."
There there was such a sad moment when I realized "I don't have an inhaler. All I have Him!" It was like I forgot for a moment that this constriction in my chest is all mental. I don't have asthma. There is no physical cure for the momentary discomfort that I'm feeling. Rather than feel better, I felt so sad and hopeless for a few seconds. There is no easy cure to stop this worry. "All I have is Him."
When people write on their blogs about St. Faustina's "Jesus, I trust in you" sometimes I feel like every other Catholic feels total serenity while saying those words all the time. When I pray that prayer, I'm usually not feeling rainbows and unicorns. When I pray "Jesus, I trust in you" inside a stressful event, the subtext in my head is often "Really?All I have is you? Because I sort of would prefer to have an inhaler, extra money in my bank account, and a live in maid!"
My prayer process is messy. Yet it works. I got through the moment by feeling only mildly uncomfortable. This morning, I woke up and my anxiety had almost totally disappeared.
The summer "food challenge" is on. This morning, I'm in the game instead of whimpering in a corner.
To comfortably pay all the bills that we'd like to pay this summer, I need to drop 1/3 of my grocery budget for the next 3 months. My husband is totally calm and thinks this is possible. As the main cook in our family, and the anxious one in our marriage, I'm thinking "Um, I don't know how we go lower than Oatmeal and Ramen." So that is my mission over the next four days until my husband's next pay period. "How do I make a healthy and edible meal plan on an even smaller budget?"
Jesus, I trust in you!
Prayers for Jennifer's Baby Joseph
alec vanderboom
One of my oldest blogging buddies has a baby in the NICU tonight. Everyone has read Conversion Diary Jen. Please say a prayer for her and leave an encouraging note on her blog. She's got a beautiful photo of her baby meeting his siblings. St. Michael and St. Raphael, please pray Baby Joseph home quickly.
More Thoughts on Poverty--Which I'm Going to Totally Muck Up--But Here It Goes Anyway
alec vanderboom
My charming fellow Catholic blogger, Leila, gave me a nugget of gold from Venerable Fulton Sheen: She quotes him as saying:
In such cases where we are face to face with two standards of right and wrong -- God's will, the popular will -- we become confused and know not what to choose; we may even find it difficult to believe that what is so unpopular could be good. (full post here)
Oh my goodness--that quote described my spirituality during college. I didn't know which to pick --my classmates "popular will" or my own fragile Christianity--so I became paralyzed and sort of choose nothing. Whoa Nelly, did major trouble ensue.
This quote can obviously apply to the public perception of the virtue of "chastity" versus the Catholic Church's definition. But I wanted to apply this quote to the public perception of the virtue of poverty and the Catholic's definition. Poverty is sort of a hard thing to tackle straight on--because American identity is very tied to financial success--so I want to talk about prudence. There is natural prudence and there is supernatural prudence. They work together, but there is sometimes when supernatural prudence leaps ahead--sort of a like a focused, assertive lunge. Supernatural prudence gains ground for a distinct purpose--to help the spiritual life. That's why it's totally stupid to skip a flu shot when you've got a newborn in the house and lazily say "God will protect us." But it's a totally honorable thing to jump into a river and save a drowning child.
So here is another example. I think there are three ways for an American family to live on limited means. The first way is poor in popular imagination. "I'm poor. I'm helpless." Every day is stressful. There is poor shelter. There is a lack of transportation. Meals are inconsistent, at scattered times, and mostly highly processed food. Parents feel stressed and often times suffer from serious depression and anxiety. The adults have poor ways of coping with stress. Rather than yoga and marathons, there is excess smoking, drinking, drug use or arguing. Kids have very little structure and emotional support. There is a lot of reactions, but little long term problem solving. There is also a little protection or boundaries within a nuclear family. So different friends and relatives drift in and out of the home. There is a lot of outside "static" where other people have serious problems that often trump the family relationship between Mom/Dad/Brother/Sister.
This is everyone's worse nightmare.
The opposite approach is with the Middle Class. (I'm NOT saying the Middle Class don't have many of the same problems--there is just an extra problem where they have more resources to hide them from public view. Hiding your problems from others is not always the better place to be). To distance themselves from the poverty of the working class, the Middle Class tend to be--hyper structured. There are dance lessons and birthday parties and Pre-SAT prep courses. There is a lot of pressure to make sure the kids look good at all times. So you frantically hire a Spanish tutor if the kid comes home with a B-. There is pressure to drive a nice car, live in a nice house in an expensive area with good schools. You have money to go to post-natal yoga class, but you better be dropping weight and looking great in your yoga pants five weeks after the baby's birth.
I get that the Middle Class screams "Who wants to live in a trailer on a West Virginia hill top? Poverty sucks." But as an observer, I've got to say--the frantic ant hill of life inside the Middle Class sucks too. So this poverty thing that Jesus hands us, it's a way out of the frantic busyness of the Middle Class, but its also a way out of the hopeless despair of the Lower Class.
Jesus gives us an invitation. Be poor for me. Be poor with me.
First, this way is a gentle invitation. It's not the same screaming fit similar to the "we all need to use less fossil fuels." You're not a second rate Christian if your not poor. But when you love him, when you hang out with him, there is this gentle invitation "Hey, come hang out with the poor."
There are many ways to voluntarily impoverish yourself in your walk with Christ. When you want to adopt, adoptions are expensive. That invitation to follow Christ makes you $30,000 poorer. When you give birth to an Autistic kid, Autism isn't covered by most insurance plans, so your family bank account is going to take a hit. Maybe you give money to your Mom who is battling cancer or maybe you take on extra legal cases pro bono.
I just think there is a hidden "middle way." A way of being poor in things but rich with grace. Of finding the sweet spot with Jesus in poverty. I think this middle way can apply to everyone. It's good for us to stop parroting what the culture says we "need" to have to be happy, healthy, and successful Americans. We need to gently quiet that "popular will voice" and tune into the quiet, gentle, well informed, artistic heart that is connected to the Holy Spirit. That's when we get the good stuff.
In such cases where we are face to face with two standards of right and wrong -- God's will, the popular will -- we become confused and know not what to choose; we may even find it difficult to believe that what is so unpopular could be good. (full post here)
Oh my goodness--that quote described my spirituality during college. I didn't know which to pick --my classmates "popular will" or my own fragile Christianity--so I became paralyzed and sort of choose nothing. Whoa Nelly, did major trouble ensue.
This quote can obviously apply to the public perception of the virtue of "chastity" versus the Catholic Church's definition. But I wanted to apply this quote to the public perception of the virtue of poverty and the Catholic's definition. Poverty is sort of a hard thing to tackle straight on--because American identity is very tied to financial success--so I want to talk about prudence. There is natural prudence and there is supernatural prudence. They work together, but there is sometimes when supernatural prudence leaps ahead--sort of a like a focused, assertive lunge. Supernatural prudence gains ground for a distinct purpose--to help the spiritual life. That's why it's totally stupid to skip a flu shot when you've got a newborn in the house and lazily say "God will protect us." But it's a totally honorable thing to jump into a river and save a drowning child.
So here is another example. I think there are three ways for an American family to live on limited means. The first way is poor in popular imagination. "I'm poor. I'm helpless." Every day is stressful. There is poor shelter. There is a lack of transportation. Meals are inconsistent, at scattered times, and mostly highly processed food. Parents feel stressed and often times suffer from serious depression and anxiety. The adults have poor ways of coping with stress. Rather than yoga and marathons, there is excess smoking, drinking, drug use or arguing. Kids have very little structure and emotional support. There is a lot of reactions, but little long term problem solving. There is also a little protection or boundaries within a nuclear family. So different friends and relatives drift in and out of the home. There is a lot of outside "static" where other people have serious problems that often trump the family relationship between Mom/Dad/Brother/Sister.
This is everyone's worse nightmare.
The opposite approach is with the Middle Class. (I'm NOT saying the Middle Class don't have many of the same problems--there is just an extra problem where they have more resources to hide them from public view. Hiding your problems from others is not always the better place to be). To distance themselves from the poverty of the working class, the Middle Class tend to be--hyper structured. There are dance lessons and birthday parties and Pre-SAT prep courses. There is a lot of pressure to make sure the kids look good at all times. So you frantically hire a Spanish tutor if the kid comes home with a B-. There is pressure to drive a nice car, live in a nice house in an expensive area with good schools. You have money to go to post-natal yoga class, but you better be dropping weight and looking great in your yoga pants five weeks after the baby's birth.
I get that the Middle Class screams "Who wants to live in a trailer on a West Virginia hill top? Poverty sucks." But as an observer, I've got to say--the frantic ant hill of life inside the Middle Class sucks too. So this poverty thing that Jesus hands us, it's a way out of the frantic busyness of the Middle Class, but its also a way out of the hopeless despair of the Lower Class.
Jesus gives us an invitation. Be poor for me. Be poor with me.
First, this way is a gentle invitation. It's not the same screaming fit similar to the "we all need to use less fossil fuels." You're not a second rate Christian if your not poor. But when you love him, when you hang out with him, there is this gentle invitation "Hey, come hang out with the poor."
There are many ways to voluntarily impoverish yourself in your walk with Christ. When you want to adopt, adoptions are expensive. That invitation to follow Christ makes you $30,000 poorer. When you give birth to an Autistic kid, Autism isn't covered by most insurance plans, so your family bank account is going to take a hit. Maybe you give money to your Mom who is battling cancer or maybe you take on extra legal cases pro bono.
I just think there is a hidden "middle way." A way of being poor in things but rich with grace. Of finding the sweet spot with Jesus in poverty. I think this middle way can apply to everyone. It's good for us to stop parroting what the culture says we "need" to have to be happy, healthy, and successful Americans. We need to gently quiet that "popular will voice" and tune into the quiet, gentle, well informed, artistic heart that is connected to the Holy Spirit. That's when we get the good stuff.
Her Second Easter, First Time Eating a Chocolate Bunny
alec vanderboom
Last Easter, Abigail Clare got baptized at two weeks old. Now she can eat chocolate like a "real kid".
The Crib in the Dining Room
alec vanderboom
I didn't know what to say when a woman told me while I was pregnant with our third child, "Oh I can't have a third baby because I can't fit another one into my car". I sat there stammering in my head thinking "is this a real problem for her or an excuse?"
We had that challenge. We throw away our eldest kid's bulky booster seat. I had one infant car seat on hand--that went to the new baby. Then I measured my back seat and bought two new booster seats in the narrowest size they had at Target. Problem solved.
We don't have to curse the fact that American culture is currently so hostile to family life. We don't have to fall into mortal sin or give up on our faith There are solutions to family life that are elegant and easy and "doable". Currently, one that is working for me, is a pretty pack in play hanging out in my dining room.