"Why Wait?" Check it out at Blessed Is She!

I got the chance to submit a post to be published on Blessed Is She, and I just couldn't be more thrilled that it's up today!  I'm a big ol' BIS fan.  You'll have to check out their site.

Meanwhile, here's an excerpt from my little contribution to the goodness that's going on over there--an Advent post entitled "Why Wait?".

"So what, then is the reason for–and the value in–waiting? If we were created for something so opposite of it, why does God allow us to ever want for anything here on earth? Why do we need to learn to be patient? Why do we have to grow in virtue? Why does He allow the suffering of waiting–of not knowing–in our lives?"

More here.

On The Waiting and The Beginning of Time and The Year of Mercy

So, due to aforementioned major transition in our lives, our family isn’t currently “part” of any parish.  We’ll settle in soon enough, but for now, we’re just kind of (Catholic) church hopping around the Omaha area, basing our decisions on where to attend solely on Mass schedules that fit our fancy.  Oh, sweet freedom.

Last night, to celebrate the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, we landed at a sweet little parish with the CUTEST little priest.  Not relevant, I suppose, but there you have it.  Anyway, I was so excited when I picked up my missalette and read the first reading for the Mass celebrating the very beginning of Mary’s life.  Genesis is my favorite book in the Bible (Hence, brace yourself for more of a novel than a blog post.  Fair warning.), and particularly I love the passage we meditate on during the Feast--for a couple of reasons that are super relevant today.

One is this:  Advent.  Waiting.  I don’t know about you, but every year I start Advent really excited because I’m firmly set on saving my real Christmas jubilation for December 25 and notaminutesooner.  Holding off on Christmas music, lighting the Advent wreath daily, waiting on the tree and the lights and the Santa visits (Not forever--I try not to be crazy weird about it--but I definitely wait longer than our culture encourages.), rededicating myself in prayer...I really do what I can to enter into this liturgical season because I think it’s so beautiful and it makes "actual Christmas" so much sweeter.  But, then, sometime during Week 2 or 3, I go to Target.  And the wrapping paper aisle and the decorations and the gifts and the Michael Buble Christmas tunes on repeat...and it just gets harder to be excited about waiting for the joy of Christmas.  I want it NOW, baby!

I can blame the retail industry all I want--and truly, it probably does contribute a great deal to the difficulty of living liturgically in our culture, especially this time of year.  But I think there’s something a little deeper that makes it hard for us to enter into the beauty of waiting for Christ’s birth, and that is this:  In “real time,” He actually already came.  We know it.  We live it every day.  We, the people of the A.D. years, know how the story ends.  So in some sense, I think, that can make it hard for us to persevere in the waiting and preparation period that Advent is meant to be for us.  We have the history on our side.  We are the Easter people, which can make it hard for us to "get" Advent.

At the beginning of Advent this year, it hit me:  Maybe to help myself embrace the season better, I should think about what it was like to live during the millions of years prior to Christ’s birth.  And last night’s first reading reminded me of the appreciation you’ve just gotta have for those folks.  In the passage from Genesis 3, we enter the story just after Adam and Eve ate the apple.  Sin is here, and it’s here to stay.  The first part of the reading is God’s conversation with Adam and Eve regarding what went down (more on that in just a hot second), and the second part is God’s conversation with Satan (who is, in this case, cleverly disguised as the serpent).  That’s the part that interests me for the moment.  

At the end of Satan’s little butt-chewing from God, God says,

“I will put enmity between you and the woman,

and between your offspring and hers;

he will strike at your head,

while you strike at his heel.” (Genesis 3:14-15)

The fancy name for God’s words here, I’ve always learned, is the “protoevangelium,” or the first proclamation of the gospel.  Here, God is telling Satan, Adam, Eve, and all of us, that Jesus is coming (via Mary) to fix what has been seriously goofed up.  Only, in true “God-fashion,” He doesn’t do that in a super-specific manner.  Adam and Eve are left with God’s word that He will deliver them, even though they're not 100% sure how it's going to happen, giving them another chance to trust Him after they just, well, didn’t.  

I heard a Bible scholar (Sri?  Gray?  I’m not sure who it was…) teach about this passage once, and He shared a cool fact that I had never heard before.  (I swear I’m not making this up even though I can’t cite my source.)  When Adam and Eve heard God say this, they actually assumed He was referring to Eve’s offspring, not Mary’s.  So when their kids, Cain and Abel, came along, Adam and Eve were like, “Great!  Which one of these boys is going to be our deliverer and get us back into paradise?  Because not being in paradise is kind of starting to suck, comparatively.”  Yikes, right?  They thought that the Messiah was coming immediately, but it was going to be millions and millions of years of waiting before He did.  And that’s the whole story of the Old Testament--God’s people waiting on Him to deliver them.

If you look at your Bible from the side, putting your finger in where Christ shows up, you notice that there’s a lot of pages and a lot of stuff that happens pre-Him.  And all of that stuff is basically stories of people trying to (or not trying to) trust God while waiting for Him to send the Messiah like He said He would in Genesis.  Mostly, they keep screwing it up at some point, but God is faithful anyway.  He continues to bridge the gap, which culminates with Him sending Jesus, who is the ultimate bridge between us and God.  

I don’t know about you, but sometimes I skip over all of the hard-to-read-and-understand Old Testament stuff because Jesus’s (and Paul, et al’s) words in the New Testament are a little easier for me to grasp.  But I probably shouldn’t do that.  Because--especially during Advent--I could learn so much from the waiting people of the Old Testament.  

For example:  Can you imagine the joy of the people who lived at the time of Jesus and actually realized He was the Messiah?  Can you believe how hard it must have been for them to do that?  I mean really, without the Holy Spirit moving in the hearts of those early believers, it would have been impossible to accept, I think.  Would YOU have believed it without some Divine assistance for your heart?  After millions of years?  And hundreds of other prophets?  Would you really have accepted that He was the Savior without the Holy Spirit’s help, just basing it on your own logic?  I sure as heck wouldn’t have.

Better yet, can you imagine Mary’s emotional explosion when she found out that HE--the Savior of the world--would be born of her?  Her faith and upbringing had been all about waiting for THIS GUY.  She probably went to the synagogue every week (Even daily, maybe?  I don’t know.) with Papa Joachim and Mama Anne and heard about this Messiah that was to come.  But she also knew that the waiting had been going on for dozens of generations.  So hearing that HER BABY was THAT GUY was probably pretty overwhelming and unexpected and EXCITING and JOYFUL and...whoa.  I bet she needed to sit down.  Although, I’m sure Mary had a lot more emotional control than I do.  But still.  She had real emotions.  And this would have rocked them.  

I think sometimes our pretty little nativity sets make us forget what was really going on in the world that night Jesus was born.  Those shepherds--were they skeptical?  Did they talk the whole way to Bethlehem about whether or not they really saw what they had just seen?  “Guys, did we just all hallucinate?”  Was it awkward when they got there? "Hey...Mary and Joseph...sorry to crash your stable here...umm...you don't know us, and we don't know you...but--get this--some ANGELS told us to come here and we have no idea what's going on..." Did some of them accept Jesus immediately?  Did some of them think going to see this kid was a waste of time?  Did anybody wonder what the heck was going on when they realized the Messiah they had been waiting for was actually a BABY?  What could a defenseless BABY do to save them?  And, are you kidding me--a kid that was born into a super poor family that didn't even have a room to sleep in was going to save the world? THIS was God's answer to the age-old question of how He'd save the world? Did Herod send the three kings to check it all out because he actually knew the truth about Jesus in his heart, but refused to let himself believe it?  

Bottom line is this:  Jesus’s birth was big for people of the time, because of the anticipation that had been building up since, you know, the beginning of humankind.  And for me, thinking about that helps me remember what a BIG DEAL Christmas is and was and always will be--and what a big deal it should be in my heart.  It should ROCK me, every year, and really every day, that God became incarnate.  That He delivered on his promise after so many years.  That He is trustworthy and good on His Word and never going to forsake His people--and never going to forsake me.  Christmas is the ultimate proof of His faithfulness.

Another quick reflection from that first reading that is super pertinent to the beginning of the beautiful Jubilee Year of Mercy that starts today: Let me preface this by saying that the reader as last night’s Mass did a truly fine job proclaiming the Word of God.  Here’s the thing though, when she read the first part of the reading from Genesis--the part where God is talking to Adam and Eve about the fruit-eating situation--she read God’s words with a little bit of a “ticked off” tone.  “WHY did you DO such a thing?”  This is not a criticism of her any more than it is of all of us, and specifically myself.  Why do we always think of God talking to Adam and Eve in a booming, mad, mean voice?  Isn’t that how Satan wanted us to hear Him?  As the mean, unpleasable Master?  Upset with his terrible, misbehaving children, and not afraid to let it rip the minute they screw up?  I think of God this way all too often when I fail Him.  

But if we look a little closer, we realize that God is actually handling this situation super mercifully.  (As if He could do it any other way.)  He’s not impatient or gruff with Adam and Eve.  He takes the time to ask them all of those questions, when, come on!  Don’t you think He already knew the answers?  He is God after all--He watched it all go down.  And while His anger is present, His sadness is even more apparent.  He knows, because He is also all-just, what Adam and Eve’s act of sinfulness will mean.  For Him, it will mean separation from His children. (As a mom, I now know the pain of that is real. Ouch!)  It will mean knowing that they aren’t living in the paradise and happiness He had planned for them to live in.  It will mean watching them suffer.  And this breaks His heart.

The only victim of his wrath is Satan.  He gets really mad at the Evil, not at His kids.  And before he starts doling out punishments and discipline for them, He rips Satan a new one and tells him that he’s (eventually) going down--hard!  Adam and Eve get His patience, His promise of deliverance, and His protection.  Sure, they also get His consequences--getting banished from the garden, labor pains, etc. (Genesis 3:16-24), and that's important to note.  But read verse 21 closely, “God made tunics of skins for the man and his wife and clothed them.”  God made them clothes.  He knew they’d need them outside of the garden.  If He was really yelling and screaming and breathing His wrath down on them, do you think He’d just stop all of a sudden to provide for their needs in this way?  Further, He didn't just tell them, angrily, "And you two better figure out some way to cover yourself because it's going to be cold and awkward out there if you're naked!" HE made the clothes Himself. BEFORE He even told them about the whole banished-from-the-garden thing. He anticipated their needs and served them by performing an actual Corporal Work of Mercy in this decisive moment.

God’s mercy is apparent from the beginning of mankind's existence.  And that is the focus of the next year.  He’s going to allow us the freedom in our lives to not choose Him like He did with Adam and Eve, and that might mean consequences that are less-than-desirable for everyone (including Him).  But it doesn’t mean He’s going to stop loving us and protecting us, and most of all providing the way back for us to rectify the relationship that He so deeply desires with all of us.  

May we remember this mercy daily, knowing that it is new every morning, and may we use the next year to share this beautiful love with all of His children.  He misses us and wants us to come home to Him.  It’s all He’s wanted since sin entered the world and He had to let us go.  He sent Jesus, and so He’s done everything He needs to do to provide the way back.  Now, He simply awaits our response, and encourages us along His way.  What a loving Father we serve!   

A Simple (Yet Incredibly Difficult) Way to Prevent Mass Terrorism

                        

I watched coverage from San Bernardino all day yesterday. Passively, and while caring for a 1-year-old, but still...I have no excuse.  I watched it.  When my husband came home from work and started asking me for details, here’s a summary of what I had to share:  There was another shooting.  In California, maybe somewhere by LA?  I think it was at a mental hospital?  And I wasn’t sure if they had caught the guy yet.  

There was a time when a story like this would have stopped me dead in my tracks and had me glued to the TV.  But not anymore.  Now I kind of halfway-pay-attention.  I’m desensitized, numbed, even hardened, maybe? (Call it what you want…) to mass shootings, bombings, and what have you.  In fact, I think a real thought that passed through my mind yesterday was, “Oh.  Only like 14 people died.”  Yep. ONLY 14 lives lost.  ONLY 14 families torn apart.  Small potatoes.  Better check my heart, huh?  

I’m not proud of this reaction.  In truth, it DOES make me sad, frightened, and shocked.  But I’m really not surprised.  And I suppose that’s what living and growing up in a culture where this is the norm will do to you.  I was a 2nd grader when the Oklahoma City bombing happened.  A 6th grader when the Columbine shooting took place.  A sophomore when 9/11 occurred.  So it’s pretty hard for me to remember life without mass, senseless terror in public places.  (If it ever existed, I guess.)  It used to scare me more, but now...as the BBC reporter quipped, “Just another day in America.”

This isn’t to make light of the terrible tragedy that occurred yesterday.  Or any of the terrible tragedies that have occurred at the hands of seriously hurting people who have committed these horrible crimes.  It’s just to show that the numbness to the hurt that’s going on in our culture today has invaded my heart.  That apathy could be the biggest obstacle to any remedy we could ever hope for.  

So I join the chorus of voices saying that we--or at least I, obviously--have to wake up.  We have to get to the root of the problem and turn this runaway train around.  We all have a voice and a role to play.  But where do we start, right?

The first step in making any change is identifying the issue, which many good people of varying political stripes try to do.  We try to place the “whys” on many likely culprits:  mental health services (or lack thereof), video games and movies and the media in general, gun laws...all of which probably have some merit, but all of which cause deep divides and controversy.  And so, we spend our precious time arguing about the next step instead of taking the next step.

Before I go any further, this isn’t meant to be a commentary on any of those particular issues.  Frankly, I don’t have a single answer when it comes to decisions about policies regarding any of the “traditional scapegoats.”  Doesn’t seem like anyone really does, for sure.  We’ve made these issues so black and white (or red and blue, rather) that it’s hard to have any real conversations about them.  Which sucks, big time.  But we’re America and that’s “how we do.”  Personally, I have considered a lot of viewpoints on gun control and mental health services and video game ratings and the only solid opinion I can come up with that I know I hold is this:  All of these issues that we’re spending our time arguing about are probably much too small to capture our attention like they have, because none of them will really have the wide-scale, long-term impact or intervention that we need.  As a society, we have to (for once) think bigger.

I believe that policy changes on several fronts are probably inevitable, regardless of anyone’s opinions on them.  Maybe that’s what we need, maybe it isn’t--I can't say for sure.  But I can say this--in all of the discussion surrounding this latest tragedy and what our country's reaction will be, I can’t keep my thoughts from returning to this wise gem from one of my main dudes, G.K. Chesterton:  “When you break the big laws, you do not get liberty; you do not even get anarchy.  You get small laws.”   And I strongly believe that “small laws” of any kind are a band-aid solution for a much larger, more serious problem.  In this case, there’s absolutely no denying it anymore.

I’m not saying that “small laws” are universally unnecessary.  We have many and need many to keep our society civil, because, well, sin and brokenness.  What I'm saying is that I think the real issue has nothing to do with “small laws,” or policies, and everything to do with the fact that our culture has turned away from the “big laws” for a long time now.  We’ve done so in the name of greater freedom, but we haven’t found more freedom.  All we’ve found is a greater need for “small laws” as a last ditch effort to keep people safe.  

The truth is that only when we rededicate ourselves to the “big laws” on an individual and collective basis will we see the solutions we’re all hoping for.  

The “big laws” are the natural ones--the ones that are written on our hearts and in our bodies--the ones that no man can make--the ones that were created when nature itself was created.  

We’ve been laughing natural law in the face and turning up our nose at it for quite a while now, haven’t we?  Or at least picking and choosing which parts of it we like and which parts of it we don't--following what we fancy and disregarding or explaining away the other less comfortable stuff.  All in the name of greater personal freedom because “I should be able to do what I want, when I want, and nobody should be able to tell me no!  And anyone or anything who tries to hates me/doesn’t love me/is a bigot/is a whacked out right-wing religious freak living in the past who just wants me to feel guilty like they do!”  Right?  But see, what starts to happen when we ignore natural law like we have is that people of all kinds--with all different backgrounds, intentions, and sins (and don’t be fooled, we’ve all got sins…)--start living like they don’t need to submit to any authority and then go about hurting others.  And THEN we get our collective panties in a twist.  And rightfully so.  But maybe we should try a different approach for once and start with prevention instead of treatment.

The unintended consequences of ignoring natural law claim millions upon millions of lives every day.  Not always physically (although, sadly, oftentimes physically), but emotionally and spiritually too.  That’s the real issue.

What unintended consequences am I talking about?  Particular attention could be paid the wounds that fatherlessness has caused in our culture.  For too long, men have been told that it’s ok to opt out of the family life realm (or they’ve been pushed out by women who, for too long, have been told that the worst thing in the world to need is a man.)  Personal sacrifice for the good of others (aka: real love) is seen as bondage instead of the path that leads to freedom.  Materialism, too, has caused deep wounds in our families and in the way we have cared for the poor.  Even our culture’s attitude toward children--seeing them as commodities to be had when we want them (or eliminated/prevented when we don’t want them) instead of gifts who are made to be loved and cherished, not just to fulfill our unmet needs or desires--can take part of the blame.  Folks, we’d be missing the point completely if we didn’t make a connection between this cesspool of hurt in our culture and the tragedy at San Bernardino.  Or the one at Sandy Hook.  Or Columbine.  The spiritual poverty and “abdication of responsibility” (that phrase is stolen from the one and only Matthew Kelly) that have infested our culture play the largest role in the cause of these tragedies.  It’s a much bigger problem than the current cultural narrative seems to be acknowledging.  

Want to eradicate this problem at the source?  Strengthen marriages, support families, take and teach responsibility, eliminate materialism, and instill in children what it means to love others and be loved.  Make sacrifices.  Love til it hurts.  

Better yet, bring Jesus Christ to people.  Don’t just “be nice” or “follow the golden rule” or “pay it forward this Christmas.” (Those are all good things to do, by the way.)  But go deeper.  Actually help people have a meaningful encounter with Jesus as a real person; who really loves them; with whom they can have a real, living relationship with; with whom they can fall in love so that the desire to emulate Him springs from that love and not from fear.  So that the people of our culture can--FOR ONCE--start to see Christianity as a relationship with the person of Christ instead of just a set of rules to follow because “you think it will get you to Heaven.”  

We need more people willing to look at the challenges, inconveniences, WORK!, and sacrifices inherent in creating and supporting good family life and say “Yes, I will serve,” instead of “No, I choose myself.”  We need more people willing to lay down their lives (and desires and even needs, sometimes) for others instead of searching for freedom from the responsibility and real pain that loving well demands.  Mother Teresa said that if you want to promote world peace, you should go home and love your family--particularly your spouse.  We must do that better (I must do that better), but we can’t stop there.

The truth of the matter is there are a lot of people my parents’ age, my grandparents’ age, my age, and everywhere in between trying to do just that, and doing a damn fine job of it on a daily basis.  Real cultural change is going to demand even more of us, but it’s what we’re all called to.  We’re going to have to leave our homes with mercy and love to bring truth and justice to the spiritually and materially poor.  We’re going to have to go out of our way to encounter people where they are--in all of their messiness and brokenness--without fear of sharing our own messiness and brokenness--and form real relationships that prevent people from feeling alone.  Relationships that lovingly challenge people to take responsibility for their lives and make them better.  It’s going to take time, energy, effort, discomfort, and most of all, prayer.  But it’s something we can all do.  And it’s something we all must do.  We have a responsibility to God and to our fellow man to do what we can to change our world.

So go ahead advocate your favorite policy solutions all you want.  I’m not saying it’s a bad thing to do.  I’ll probably even read your facebook posts while I try to figure out what I think about all of those things.  But me?  I can’t pass any laws.  I don’t have the authority to impart my will on others via the legal system.  (Nor do I really want such authority.  Hah!)  But I can love my family, and I can love my neighbor, and I can do my best to bring Christ into a culture who needs Him maybe more now than ever.  I could spend time lobbying my congressmen and woman, but I think instead I'll focus on doing those simpler but harder things.  Because the reality of the situation is that no law will get to the root of the problems we have.  It’s only when we start caring for each others’ hearts that hearts will change, and it’s only changing hearts that will change our culture.  We have a long way to go.  I have a long way to go.  Better wake up and get to work.  

Why Giving Thanks Makes Sense

                        

Yesterday, while driving home from getting a sneak peek at our new baby via ultrasound (it’s a baby BOY, by the way), I was making a mental list of the ways God has shown our family his faithfulness over the last month.  Not that He didn’t before then, but especially in these recent days, our ever-present Father has made it a point to make sure our family knows He’s got our back.  In big ways and little ways, He has come through, almost miraculously, time after time, during a season full of unknowns.

My husband took a huge leap of faith about 6 weeks ago when he decided to seek out a new career opportunity.  Since that time, life has moved pretty fast.  We’ve moved out of a nice little house in a quiet small town and into an apartment in the middle of Nebraska’s largest city.  While “the city” won’t be our permanent home (just a temporary solution until we can find a house that meets our needs in a nearby rural community), it’s safe to say that we are about as far from our comfort zones as we ever imagined we’d be.

What I’ve learned is this:  experiencing change of this level and at this pace gives a girl lots of opportunities to trust God.  Because there’s really no other option.  Hah!  One decision leads to another, and there’s no way to see the whole picture until you get to the end of the story.  You find yourself “livin’ on a prayer” quite literally while making really, really big decisions that affect your life and lots of other peoples’ lives.  “Adult moments” abound.  And they’re a little overwhelming.

Can I tell you a secret though?  I mean, I’m all kinds of ready for things to settle right back down, preferably before April 14 (Baby Bro’s due date), but this is actually kind of an awesome way to live--this truly not knowing what tomorrow will bring.  (Which, you know, we never really do know, but I tend to forget that when every day seems the same as the one before.)  This state of unknowing forces me to trust God, my husband, myself, and all of the wonderful people helping us along the way.  And it’s kind of...freeing!

When I live this way, it’s so clear to me how NOT in control I am, despite my constant delusions that somehow I’m the one calling the shots.  It’s so clear to me how nothing, NOTHING, is mine and that everything, EVERYTHING is a gift from God.  God provides.  It’s just who He is.  Sometimes directly, sometimes through the generosity of others, sometimes in ways that are so unexpected you start to wonder if He’s just showing off a little bit.  Everything, EVERYTHING is from Him.  And I’m so undeserving, so it has to be a pure gift.

I was in the middle of that thought at a stoplight on West Maple Street today when it hit me.  If nothing is mine, and everything is His, then the only thing I really have to give back to Him that’s mine is my gratitude.  Even on my best days, I’ll never be able to make a return to God for all that He provides.  If we were keeping it, the score would literally be infinity, to like, nothing.  But I can give Him my heart, full of gratefulness for His countless gifts.  And while that seems to pale in comparison, my heart is all He has ever really wanted.  (Well, besides, YOUR heart!)

I think that this is why it makes so much sense for us to be grateful.  Our thanks are all we really have that are truly ours to give.  Everything else we can give--to Him and to others--is a gift from Him or an extension of His Love.  I'm sure one could make the argument that even our ability to show gratitude is a gift from Him, which is true (and probably more “theologically correct”), but it still requires our response--our choice--our own free will--to be grateful.   

So the bottom line is this:  gratefulness the only posture of heart that is fitting for we who are so in need of God’s love and provision.  G.K. Chesterton said that “thanks are the highest form of thought,” and I think this is why!  It’s really the best we humans who are so in need can do when faced with such a wonderful, powerful, and above all, generous Creator.

And, I’ll add this too--even though there’s discomfort and stress and maybe even a little bit of genuine suffering in our lives right now, the union we are able to enter into with our Lord is so much more intimate because there is an urgency to our trusting in Him and a gratefulness for the many obvious ways He is working.  I’m sure I’ll forget that when things get back to “normal,” but I hope that I’ll always remember His faithfulness during this time and be a little more trusting and a little more thankful when they do.  Trust and thankfulness make my heart more humble and more free, so there’s room for a lot more joy.

Many blessings to you and yours this Thanksgiving, and best wishes for a Holy Advent!  My favorite liturgical season...get ready to get ready, people!

How Love Will REALLY Win

Hey, Friday morning rejoicers!  By the looks of your Facebook posts, you're having the best.day.ever! I'm guessing that big ol' SCOTUS decision has a little something to do with that...

Just wanted to let you know I see you.  And you know what, I get you, to some degree.  Probably not fully--I can't claim to even understand myself fully--but I want you to know that in some ways, I understand where you're coming from.  I hear your cries for "love" and "equality," and I know this:  You really are coming from a place that really cares about real people with real feelings who, until today, had the real problem of not being able to do something they really want to do in the depths of their hearts.  Even though I (and Pope Francis, and the Catholic Church) totally disagree with you about gay marriage (probably just because we define marriage a bit differently), even though you're shouting with exuberance from the rooftops of the internet while I'm holding back tears, reading and re-reading the Obergefell v. Hodges opinion, I just want you to know today that I DON'T THINK YOU'RE A BAD PERSON.

AND, (BONUS!) I'm not going to attempt to use this platform to try to convince you to abandon your position, either.  A discussion at another time, in another place would probably be more appropriate for that type of a conversation.  (I'd love to have it, for the record!  Please reach out to me if you want to have a thoughtful and respectful discourse.) I just want you to know that I don't think you're a terrible person, or going to hell, or any number of other things that Christians are accused of thinking/saying about you.  

Speaking of Christians, I am one, and I know lots of them.  I even understand why you might feel like we think those terrible things about you.  I'm nowhere near perfect, and neither are my brothers and sisters in Christ.  I admit that I have an incredibly hard time explaining to you why I disagree with you re: gay marriage because the very good, very fundamental values I sincerely hold in my heart--that shape my feelings about this issue and every other issue--are so very different than those of our culture, and probably very different than yours.  

And that's what I want to talk to you about today.  Could I ask you a favor?  Could you extend your tolerance to me too?

I am not an evil person.  I promise.  I readily admit that I am not perfect, but I AM full of love for my family, for my friends, and for you--even though we may disagree.  I am not a bigot (defined by Webster's as a person who is intolerant toward those holding different opinions.)  I am a Catholic, Christian woman of good will.  I'm a simple (well, "complicated" if you ask my husband) wife with a new! blog, and a busy mom to a busy 8-month-old girl, who is sitting in her living room this morning nursing her second cup of coffee, and, in light of this decision, truly, truly agonizing over how I'm going to pass on my beliefs (aka: the Catholic faith) to my daughter in this culture.  And I know I'm not alone in this feeling.

Because the truth of the matter is that in the world today, for many Catholic and Christian parents of good will (like me), teaching our children what we believe when the rest of the world screams out at them "BIGOT!" "INTOLERANT!" "EVIL!" "LOVELESS!" seems like an absolutely impossible task.  I know that it's not, and with God's grace and a lot of intentionality, my husband and I will find a way.  It's going to require creativity, discipline, and most of all, prayer.  And frankly, I don't think God would want it any other way.

Here's the thing, though.  Like you, I can imagine teaching my daughter what we believe in the depths of our hearts as she grows older--something our country gives me the freedom and my faith gives me the admonition to do.  And then I can imagine her being absolutely scorned for it by people who disagree with her.  It will be good for her to endure that persecution.  I won't allow her to shy away from it, but will try to teach her what to do with it.  But it breaks my heart. The intolerance she will undoubtedly encounter is truly the work of the devil.

So, could you help me?  Would you mind taking just a moment to look at this from my perspective, just as I'm doing with you?  Would you be willing to exercise empathy and put yourself in my shoes?  Could you just see me and see my heart and understand my situation in the way that I'm trying to understand yours?  Could you try to disagree with me while still seeing that my heart is full of love, not hatred?  That my position on gay marriage and other issues actually comes from a place of deep love and respect for you and for all human people (regardless of any position on any issue), and not a place of hatred or unfair judgment or backwoods-style-brainwashing?  That I've come to believe this on my own (even though, yes, I was raised Catholic) after much struggling and ruminating and evaluating lots of diverse opinions?  Can we disagree without spewing labels at each other and actually move to a place of attempted understanding?  And could you do the same thing for my daughter as I'm raising her and teaching her our faith?  And for all of the other bumbling-but-genuine Christians, Catholics, and supporters of traditional marriage who, in all their good will, just really don't know how to communicate with you?  

I've been watching the news this morning, and as much as I disagreed with a lot what President Obama said in his remarks regarding today's decision, I thought there was a lot of wisdom in this line:

"I know that Americans of good will continue to hold a wide range of views on this issue.  Opposition, in some cases, has been based on sincere and deeply held beliefs.  All of us who welcome today's news should be mindful of that fact and recognize different viewpoints, revere our deep commitment to religious freedom."  (Transcript:  Obama's remarks on Supreme Court ruling on same-sex marriage. Washington Post.)

If our President's commitment to religious freedom is authentic, and if others in our country really share that commitment, there must be room in the public debate for my faith-based view on this issue. There must be freedom for me to pass it on to future generations. And there must be space in our society for it to be heard and passed on with the understanding that it's coming from a good--not evil--place.  You don't have to agree with me. But could you try to love me?

I beg you today: let's attempt to focus on what we have in common as this issue comes to the forefront, and that is our shared concern for others.  The more we focus on that and avoid assuming bad intentions in one another--the more we STOP calling each other (or even thinking of each other as) intolerant, bigoted, terrible, evil people--the more love really WILL win!

On Mother's Day: An Apology

(Photo Credit: B.Mussack)

Babe,

It's our second year celebrating Mother's Day.  Last year at this time, we didn't even know little Annie was a girl.  And now, can you even imagine life without her?

Last year, it was you, me, and our tiny little baby bump.  That bump got bigger after Mother's Day, and so did our love after she finally made her appearance in October.  What a joyous day!  What a scary day!  Our little peanut changed our lives in big ways.  Mostly good ways, of course.

But there are days, my love, when it's pretty apparent that becoming parents has its struggles too.  For me, it's been an obvious struggle to remember that after my relationship with Jesus Christ, it's my relationship with you--not her--that matters most.  

I spend all of my days with her.  We giggle, play, and cuddle.  I give her baths and change her diapers and attempt to keep the house clean in the midst of caring for her.  (You might not believe me about that last part, but it's true--I really do try!)  I spend all of my nights with her too.  Not you--you've sacrificially taken up what seems to be permanent residence on the couch so she can sleep more comfortably next to her mama.  

Annie and I are inseparable these days.  And being a mom to a little baby comes with all.the.feels.  Oxytocin abounds.  I love to nurse her, tickle her, watch her sleep, watch her discover new things.  My relationship with her is so easy and so natural.

But what of my relationship with you?  Two years + one baby into marriage, that relationship doesn't always seem terribly easy or natural.  On many days, I'm so worried about taking care of the physical needs of the now three people in this house (clothing, food, shelter--and I'm not even great at that) and you're so worried about providing for your TWO girls, that we pass each other by.  We don't waste time together like we used to, because where would we find an extra moment to waste?  

I spend a lot of time marveling at the miracle that our daughter is.  It's a miracle that we got pregnant in the first place.  And I have never been so amazed at anything as watching a baby grow from the size of two cells to a crawling (well, scooting) six-month-old with her daddy's hair and her mommy's eyes.  But maybe the greater miracle is the marriage that brought her into existence in the first place. God taking two people--two wills, two minds, two hearts, two different ways of doing everything from communicating to cleaning toilets--and making them one.  And then giving them the grace to carry on through every single monotonous day.  The grace to live together, to bring forth life together--heck, the grace to agree on which movie to watch.  Sometimes that's a miracle!

There's a whole day for me to celebrate being a mom to our little miracle baby.  But what kind of mom am I if I forget that my role as your wife is more important than being her mom?  Isn't that the greatest gift we can give Annie--and any successive sibs that come along--a strong and united marriage?  An understanding that our relationship comes first?  And in reality, while I know that being a great mother is something that God wants me to prioritize, at the end of my life, it's how I loved YOU that will be the real question.  YOU are my vocation.  YOU are my horse to heaven.  How I loved YOU will be the main topic of conversation when I meet my Maker. And together, our love for Annie can only be real insofar as it's an overflow of our love for one another.  That's what Pope St. John Paul II said, right?  "Children don't want to be loved with a separate love, but rather to be caught up in the love parents have for each other."

This Mother's Day, we'll celebrate my relationship with little Annie.  But I want you to know that in my heart, I'm really going to be celebrating my relationship with you, because the two relationships both flow from the same place.  She didn't make me a mom--YOU did.  We made each other parents by our love for one another, which, in reality, is just an outpouring of God's love for each of us.  

Thank you for loving me unconditionally.  Thanks for being the real miracle around here.  The real miracle of our marriage is that someone could look at this broken, sinful woman--could see all of my flaws and errors--my quick temper, my mean words, my selfishness and pride--and still.just.love.  Somehow, you see goodness in all of it.  Annie can't do that--and she probably never will be able to in the way you do, because I've learned that parents and children tend to see the goodness in each other while pretty much overlooking the bad.  But you?  You love me in the best way, because it's the most like Jesus.  You see it all and somehow find a way to love me through it.  It's not natural for humans to do that--and that's why marriage is the greatest miracle I've seen yet.  Because at the end of these seemingly insignificant days, it really is God's grace binding our hearts together--nurturing and protecting what He created when He made us one.

I love you.  And in these days of optional hubbys and disposable daddies, I want you to know that I need you. We need you. Thank you for making me a mom, but even more, for making me a wife.  YOUR wife.  I couldn't be one without the other.  I'm sorry for the too-many-times I get my priorities mixed up, and I vow to try again tomorrow.  And the next day.  And the next day.  And the next.  Our little girl's purpose in life is to leave us--to go somewhere else and live out her own vocation.  Our job is to prepare her to do that.  But our greater purpose--our sacred duty--our real ticket to Heaven--is to cling tighter to each other and to the Lord with each boring, simple, little day that passes.  What an utterly amazing miracle is the grace that teaches our sinful hearts to do that!  

Love,

Babe

I'm Making My Own Dinner on Mother's Day

And I'm doing laundry too.  I bet I'm not the only Mom out there who isn't getting a big, relaxing break today either. That's the beauty of motherhood--those breaks aren't possible.

I'm making my own dinner on Mother's Day for one simple reason:  I love being a mom.  

I love preparing meals for the people God has put under my care.  I love doing their laundry.  I even love cleaning their house.  I don't do those things very well most of the time, but I love to do them, even when I hate to do them.

I love serving them because that's really the only way I know how to love them.  I love spending my days giving everything I have, everything I am to them.  

Not too long ago, I was a girl that made all my decisions based on what was best for me.  And why not?  The job God had assigned me was to take care of myself--not anyone else.  Sure, I cared about others.  I was a person who could be counted on to help and serve the people around me.  But at the end of the day, I wasn't responsible for the basic needs or the ongoing well-being of anyone except me.  It wasn't bad or sinful--it was just who I was called to be at that point in time.

Marriage, and then parenthood, came later.  There are days when I am sure that I've never done anything harder.  And I only have one little baby.  I'm sure harder days are to come.  

There are days when I am sure that I literally cannot change one more diaper.  But Annie's diaper needs to be changed.  So I change the diaper.  

There are days after a long night with a teething baby when the thought of packing up said baby and myself to go to the grocery store requires more effort than I want to give.  But we need food to put on the table.  So I go to the grocery store.  

There are nights when, at 10 pm, I exhaustedly realize that my husband has no clean work jeans for the morning because I forgot to put them in the washer earlier.  But Matt needs work jeans for tomorrow.  So I start a load of laundry and stay awake long enough to get it to the dryer.

There are days when I long to be footloose and fancy free--to spontaneously pack up my bags to go on an adventure.  But a certain little girl needs me to read to her and play with her and feed her and bathe her and answer her cries.  So I smile and remember that this every-day-simple living is the real adventure.  And I wouldn't trade this adventure for anything.  ANYTHING.

I love this me.  I love the woman I am becoming thanks to motherhood.  The old me didn't really have to do anything I didn't want to do.  Not at this level.  But now, I see a need in my daughter and realize that if I don't act--if I don't love (because love is action, not feeling)--no one else will.  And so I do what needs to be done because, well, love.

I love this me.

I don't do what I do every day perfectly.  In fact, I don't even do it well.  But I trust that God will continue to work the selfishness out of my heart through the adventure of caring for my troops.  He who has begun a good work in me will bring it to fulfillment, as He promised.  It hurts.  Sometimes I don't like it.  Sometimes I even HATE it.  But, I love it.  I ALWAYS love it.

To celebrate Mother's Day, I'm making dinner for my family.  Because serving these people is bringing new life to my selfish, prideful heart, and for that I am so grateful.  I love caring for them them, even when I hate it.  I'm making dinner because I can't think of anything I'd rather do to today thank God for giving me the gift of my family than to do what I love to do every other day--serve them.  Even when I don't want to.  

And, let's be real--if I cook, there just might be wine.  

Yes, Huck

Yes, Huck.  Yes.  You’re a good dog.

I want you to hear me say yes, just once today.  Because a lot of the time in this quiet, no-one-to-talk house, when there ARE words are coming out of my mouth, they’re “No,” they’re angry, and they’re directed at you.  

Lately, I have actually begun to fear that you are going to think your middle name is “you’re-in-the-way.”  And that Baby Annie’s first words will be “Damnit, Huck!”  Or worse yet, “Huck!  No!”  Ya’ know...baby words don’t always sound like adult words.  Worse yet--sometimes baby words DO sound like adult words--not the nice kind, either.  What if she screamed that in church or something?  “Huck! No!”  I can already hear the conversations folks would be having when they reported us to CPS...or just gossiped at the coffee shop.  

We’ve had our ups and downs, big guy.  As in any close relationship, we’ve done things that get under each others’ skin (or, in your case, hair), but we’ve always found a way.  

Remember how you used to bite me in the rump when Matt and I first started dating?  Before I was part of your world, that man took you on a walk every night.  And played with you in the country on the weekends.  Then, all of a sudden, your partner in crime was MIA.  Visiting me instead of playing fetch with you, hanging out with me inside while you were left to your entertain yourself in the back yard.  You had to share your buddy with someone else.  So I get it--you weren’t initially my biggest fan.  (Didn’t appreciate the biting, though.  Glad we got past that.)

But you know what they say--marry the boy, marry the dog.  (Do they say that?  If they don’t, they should.  It’s the honest-to-God truth.)  You and I entered into an “arranged marriage” of our own when Matt and I said our vows.  What was his became mine, and vice versa.  Including you.  

Eventually I won you over.  I scratched your belly for hours on end, let you sleep in the bedroom (total upgrade--you’re welcome), and got you a slick new tag with your name on it.  You learned to love me.  In fact, I maintain that there was a time--early in our marriage--when you may have even liked me more than Matt.  He’ll probably dispute that, but you and I know it’s true.

Yes, you were still pretty ornery.  There was the time you turned on the water outside and it leaked into the basement.  There was the time you chewed up my 3-wood cover while I was cleaning my golf clubs.  There were all of those walks we took--just you and me--and all of those little old ladies sitting on their porches who’d yell at us, “Who’s walking who?!”  (Like we hadn’t heard THAT one before.)

We lived a pretty charmed life. It wasn’t long, though, before that precious baby came.  And because her 8 pounds, 1 ounce of sweetness was no match for your 95+ pounds of lovable, playful, constant energy bursts, you started spending a lot more time outside/in the basement/away from everyone.  No more sleeping on the bed. No more having your run of the place.

Let’s just cut to the heart of the matter.  The reason I’m writing you, if you will.  Since Annie was born, you’ve been driving me (and everyone around here) a little bit more nuts than usual.  It seems like you’re always lying where I want to walk, stand, or sit.  You're barking when that's literally the last.thing.we.need.  You’re all “up in her grill” every chance you get.  You’re up in my--ahem--grill (?) when I’m trying to nurse her.  You don’t do what I say unless I give you a treat.  Matt’s right--I’m just rewarding bad behavior--but I don’t always have the time, patience, or energy for a game of mental tug-of-war with a yellow lab, so you get a helluva lot more treats than you deserve.  If it’s possible to be more stubborn than I am, I think you are.

But don’t worry.  You’re not going anywhere, buddy.  In fact, you getting in my way is probably the best thing you can do for me right now.  You give me the chance to be patient.  That’s a muscle I really need to work.  Your little annoyances are great opportunities for me to grow in virtue.  And growing in virtue helps me grow in love.

You’re doing so good with Annie.  I love how you make her giggle (she has a special smile just for you) and how just seeing her makes your tail wag.  Thanks for letting your heart expand to love our growing family.  You have learned by now that losing one best buddy around here means that you’re just making room for one more.  That when you really, really love someone, there is no loss...just more love.  

I know, I know.  You’re just a dog--moved by instinct, not emotion.  But I still learn a lot from you.  Keeping you around makes me think and teaches me things:  to be more patient, to love more unconditionally, and to stop sweating the small stuff, like having dog hair on my pants.  (I always have dog hair on my pants.)  You’ve shown me how to adapt to change.  Even if you aren’t very graceful about it at first, you somehow find a way come around.  You're always happy to see us.  Doesn't matter the circumstances. And when we get mad at you (sometimes for no reason at all), you turn the other cheek.  That’s a good lesson for me to learn too.

Yesterday on our family walk, three little girls down the block were playing outside when they saw you trotting by.  They came running and squealing and screaming to meet you.  “A PUPPY!  A PUPPY!  CAN WE PET YOUR PUPPY?!”  Maybe you were tired--maybe you were scared (little girls CAN be pretty scary)-- but you were oh-so-gentle with them.  You licked them in the face until they giggled--you didn’t even jump on them!  I was so proud of you.  You’re really growing up.  

And you know what else?  You’re growing old.  The gray hairs around your eyes don’t lie, buddy.  Five more years, seven at most?  The day that I’m not looking forward to will eventually be here.  No, I don’t expect to see you in Heaven--not because you’re bad, just because that’s not why God made you.  I’m glad He made you, by the way.  I hope you know--before you go--that I’m grateful.  Grateful for what you’ve already done for our little family, and for what you continue to do for us every day.  You’ve brought us closer to each other. You’ve brought us closer to the Lord.  You make us laugh.  You keep us on our toes.  You slow us down.  You help us live well.  Not perfect, but well.  What more could you ask for in a friend?

Thanks for being you, Huck.  Smelly, annoying, excitable you.  Keep chasing those bunnies.  You’ll get one someday.

“A dog has no use for fancy cars or big homes or designer clothes. Status symbol means nothing to him. A waterlogged stick will do just fine. A dog judges others not by their color or creed or class but by who they are inside. A dog doesn't care if you are rich or poor, educated or illiterate, clever or dull. Give him your heart and he will give you his. It was really quite simple, and yet we humans, so much wiser and more sophisticated, have always had trouble figuring out what really counts and what does not.”   --John Grogan (Marley & Me)