Benjamin Academy of the Arts and Sciences

It's official, we passed our first review with flying colors!

The Holy Spirits fingerprints were all over this meeting. We had a tender Asian grandmother do our review. We were supposed to bring a sample of reading material for our review. I limited myself to 2 books per subject area. When I brought out the plastic bin of books, the darling Mrs. L burst out with "so many books for a kindergartner! That is good! That is very good!"

We had the most pleasant hour of conversation. Mrs. L is completely on the same page as us. She was so happy to see Hannah's drawings and scribbled "books." As a former math teacher, she was all over Math-U-See and my random collection of unfinished Number Street drawings.

"Emotional security counts," according to Mrs. L. "The most important thing you can do is read them a book each night, sign them a song and then give them a hug from Mommy and Daddy. That way the child had no bad dreams fearing that they are alone in the world."

Can you imagine a sweeter, more confidence building portfolio review? So much for my fears of being busted for not more vigorously pursuing phonics!

As a final mark of the Holy Spirit's presence occurred when we got to the music section. Last Saturday, I completely panicked over our lack of music lessons this semester. For Hannah's portfolio I photocopied two Catholic hymns. That section seemed a bit small so I added our Nutcracker unit. When typing out the labels for the portfolio, Jon made a mistake and wrote NUTCRACKER BALLET in huge bold letters. The words jumped out from you on the page. We were going to change it but ran out of time.

So in the midst of this delightful review, Mrs. L turns the page and NUTCRACKER BALLET leaps off the page at her.

She stops in silence for a moment. Catches her breath.

Out tumbles this long story of how much she loves this ballet and how important it is for young girls. Her own granddaughter performed this ballet in front of 1200 people in St. Louis at age 10. Mrs. L loved the performance so much so put the Nutcracker as the ring tone on her cellphone.

So when she turns the page and sees the pictures of Hannah's dance and choreography notation, she almost faints. "This is so advanced!" she shouts and notes all sorts of nice things on our official paperwork.

And to think, that was one of the many parts that sort of landed in the portfolio by accident. Yes, just another day of the Holy Spirit at work.


(It went so well, I'm sheepish about all my earlier stress. It wasn't until later that I realized that in both side of my family we have public school teachers who are deeply opposed to our decision to home school. Jon and Ibuilt it up in our minds that the entire public school system in Maryland was hostile to home-schooling. I'm glad to know that some boogymen only exist in our imaginations!)

New Year's Resolution: To Learn How to Suck with Grace

In a few hours, I have my first home school review with the State of Maryland.

Ever since my husband and I heard the first nudging to "home" school for kindergarten some nine months ago, I've sat in dread of this review. All of my poor friends have spent months listening to me verbally roll my eyes at this meeting. I cried during the five hours it took me to assemble a portfolio of Hannah's work on Saturday night. Then on Sunday night, I feel into sin. I screamed at my kids for dragging the chocolate King Cake into their bedroom and picked a fight with my husband when he tried to ease my nervousness with hugs and words of comfort.

All of my sin is because I'm a baby. I don't want to go to a meeting with a State Official telling me that "I'm doing it wrong."

My Mother is an Education Professor. "Doing teaching right" has a far, far exaggerated place of importance in my mind. Home schooling has revealed a definite tendency towards perfectionism in my life.

There's no way to be "perfect" in this portfolio review and that lack of a standard is driving my pride crazy. I couldn't find a specific checklist on how to "pass" this review. Even the basic guidelines contained in my meeting letter such as, "make a list of your textbooks," is problematic for me.

As an unschooler, we don't use textbooks. We don't have worksheets. For my Science Class, I'm bringing a Audubon Magazine article about Venus Fly Traps because that what we do for science class. I read a fun article about endangered carnivorous plants and then we all jump around pretending to eat flies with our arms and make up theories as to why the Venus Fly Traps are losing their populations in North Carolina.

I don't know how this is going to go over with my Portfolio Reviewer. It might go over well, but it might totally miss the mark especially since, I tend not to be the best "recorder" of all of our spontaneous fun science conversations.

Besides, kindergarten isn't really supposed to be about unit studies on carnivorous plants. It's supposed to be about learning how to count. Somehow, we've gotten stalled on anything past the number 9.

My daughter, Hannah, doesn't get the whole "number placement" thing. She doesn't see any pattern yet from 0-9, and 10-19, or 20-29.

I've got the sweet Decimal Street from Math-u-See with the tiny green house for the ones and the blue apartment building for the 10s and the red castle for the 100s. Yet Hannah doesn't get the rule that only nine people can fit into the "ones" house and then when another friend comes to stay they all have to move into the 10 place and leave the ones place empty with a giant zero.

Hannah does like math rules. She thinks that if a friend is coming to stay, they can all hang out in the green "one" house. "The green family doesn't need to move into a new house, Mom! The little girl isn't coming to stay. She doesn't need a new bed. The little friend is just coming to play for a few hours!"

Hannah likes to do math Hannah's way.

"You do math your way, I'll do it my way." That statement has been repeated often during this semester. Curiously, the lovely teacher on Math-U-See does not have any guidelines for the great "why do we all have to count the same way at the same time?" going on in my kindergartner's head.

We've stayed stuck on the parallel play during math time for a few months now. As a result, our portfolio has pages and pages of Number Street, with detailed drawings and my cut-out pictures of "numbers of Popsicles" needed for the ice cream truck. Hannah has people, horses and flowers numbering 11, 13, and 27 hanging out all in the "ones" house. Whether this meets the criteria of "regular and thorough home instruction for the State of Maryland" is anyone guess.

The State Reviewer might tell me to give up and start giving out math worksheets. Oh, and please give more tests and informal assessments. (I'm really bad at the recording and testing where we currently are thing.)

Also, I'm pretty sure we flunked the physical education section. Because in hind sight, I did a "here's the playground go play," which is more recess than a "progressive program in cardiovascular fitness" which counts a P.E. Honestly, we didn't even get recess nearly enough because I'm a bookworm who hates the cold. Bundling up the 18 month old, finding the missing gloves and hats, and locating that one missing shoe never seems worth the effort. So mostly we stay inside and let the kids jump around on our couch and swing on the door handles. I'm not sure this honestly qualifies as "gymnastics."

Teaching is humbling work, because it's too vast to do well or perfectly. It's a lot like parenting or being a spouse.

My priest has told me to "do the work the best you can and hand the rest over to God." Today is the day to test my virtue of obedience.

Today is the day I listen to some criticism, not as "punishment" but as a source of direction in my life.

I would never choose to be vulnerable like this to someone in authority such as in this home school meeting. But humiliation often leads to the virtue of humility.

Blessed be the name of the Lord. He leads his servants in the ways they need to go and not where they want to go.

Carmelite Sunday

On the surface, my Carmelite meetings seem perfectly normal and perfectly familiar. There are uncomfortable folding chairs on plain plastic tables in a dingy church basement. There is a treasurer report, and a talk by the snack coordinator. Our Carmelite books have the homely covers from a cheap printing press.

Everything is familiar from a life time of attending United Methodist Church events.
I'm calm and easy, relaxed and comfortable.

Then someone will start talking and the roof of the building flies off and my soul is in flight.

Seriously. I spent the better part of my first, and prior to this Sunday, only Carmelite meeting gripping the back of the plain plastic table to keep myself grounded in time and space.

Fellow Carmelites will use the most mundane language to easily express these thoughts that are so deep and so true.

For example, my group leader Lou said "The world is always going to underestimate the power of contemplative prayer. Someone will thank you for your time spent in the prison ministry, but no one is going to thank you for that hour you spent in active prayer. Yet we can't make that mistake. We can't underestimate the time spent alone with God, allowing Him to form us. In fact, it's only after we have that regular quiet prayer time that we'll ever be any use in the prison ministry or any active service for the church."

Lou said this with the calmness and certainty that I'd say "The Washington Post says its going to snow tomorrow."

As he talked I had this clear picture of the section of the church bulletin where the thank yous for help with the Food Pantry are listed. I realized in this deep interior place that no one is ever going to print up a bulletin heading that reads "A special thank you to Mrs. Abigail Benjamin for spending a half an hour with the Lord in her closet during the kids naps." If I waited around for public approval, or for an "easy" time to start my prayer life, it was never going to happen.

That doesn't matter.

I know what quiet prayers does for my soul. God loves to give me gifts during quiet meditation.

So that is the Carmelites, glowing, happy interactions with some of the neatest people you'll ever meet.

Life as the Most Important Principle

On Dateline NBC on Friday, Ann Curry held Protestant Pastor Rick Warren's feet to the fire for his close friendship with President Elect Obama & his decision to say the Prayer during Obama's Inauguration. I'd enjoyed Warren's spirited defense of the theology of marriage a few minutes earlier in the broadcast. It came as a shock to hear this exchange.

Ms. Curry: "How can you be friends with Obama if he's pro-choice and your pro-life? Isn't that murder in your view?"

Pastor Warren: "You'll never get a representative to represent you 100% on all of your issues. Heck, I can't get my wife to agree with me all the time!"

You know, I get the whole 'spiritual blindness' thing for the pro-choice side, because I lived it for so long. It's "the I'm pro-life, but its not really the most important issue for me" that has me head scratching right now.

I thought about Ann Curry, who I used to really adore in my prior TV without restrictions days of youth, and Pastor Rick Warren as my 18 month old snuggled into bed with me.

Mimi is a post-colic baby, which means she still doesn't sleep reliably through the night, especially if there's another warm body in her bedroom who could be persuaded to play with her. As a result, our sleeping arrangements in our 2 bedroom apartment are a bit unique. My 5 & 4 year old share a room. Mimi sleeps in a crib in our room. Meanwhile every night, my husband pulls out our IKEA mattress from the beautiful IKEA woven sleigh bed and places it on the living room floor.

When Mimi gets up in the morning, she's not just next to me and my sleeping spouse. Instead, she easily steps on the bed and perches on my head.

So this morning as I mentally wrestled with religious witness questions while physically wrestling with my wide-awake toddler, I realized they are both interrelated.

Here's my current favorite pro-life picture. This a photo of my husband holding my youngest daughter by the grave site of her brother.



Francisco died in my second trimester of pregnancy six weeks before Mimi was conceived. After his death, there was an anguished week of waiting for a miscarriage so that we could have a Catholic burial. There was about a half-hour during that week that I really raved about not being Protestant anymore. I wanted to use birth control again. I hurt so much, I couldn't imagine ever having another child. I wanted to be certain that I'd never have to go through another miscarriage again.


I knew in my heart going back on the pill wasn't an option. The was only NFP or total absence. (Fortunately, the Catholic church has some absolute rules in this situation. Birth control is a mortal sin, and is completely off the table.) Knowing our track record, I figured it was pretty unlikely we could get through 15 years of NEVER conceiving another child.

The question in my mind changed from "IF I ever have another child? To WHEN will I be ready to open my heart to the possibility of another child."

God can work with a frightened, unwilling heart. That what this picture means to me.

Immediately after the funeral, Jon and I truly thought we couldn't be ready to have another child for at least 10 years, if even then.

Instead, six weeks later we brought another soul into the world.

Now out of heartache, there is blessing. I have a son in heaven who is as real to me as my son on earth. (I talk to him all the time in my heart). And Francisco's early death left room for an "extra" red headed daughter. The silly one who tells jokes in baby talk, and who puts on her Dad's dress shoes for a laugh and who sits on my head at 6:30 AM when I'd rather hit another round on the snooze alarm.

Christmas is about welcoming the most important baby in the world.

This Sunday we also remember the Blessed Mother who said YES in the most emphatic way possible. We need to say YES to God in all different ways in all parts of our life. Yet we married couples also need to say YES to Life in a special way.

Our Blessed Mother pray for us. Help us all be "handmaidens of the Lord" in our hearts.

In a Grandma Jean State of Mind

I preformed an indulgence on "Christ the King" Sunday for my grandmother Jean's mother, (my great-grandma Ruth). It was an amazing experience to take communion for someone who suffered so much during her life, yet who never got to "taste Jesus."

Grandma Jean must have done cartwheels over that act because I've felt her loving presence in everything this Advent season. I've started calling it "my Grandma Jean Christmas."

First, I not only volunteered to host a cocktail party for Jon's office, I also spent 3 hours polishing my Grandma Jean's antique punchbowl. This is so NOT me! I completely rolled my eyes when my mother brought over a cracked bowl from my grandmas attic. "Hmm, thanks" I mumbled as my interior voice said "Why are you bringing this useless thing to me? Don't you realize that I have no closet space!"

Rather than being useless, my 5 year old daughter and I had a blast polishing the silver punch set together. The bowl was the hit of the party. I realize that when you live in a humble space with children's finger prints all over the mirror you just cleaned, it's nice to have at least one gleaming piece of company silver. Those 1950s housewives knew what they were doing!

Grandma Jean also nudged me to volunteer to knit a leper bandage. (I hope to post a picture soon). She's the one who taught me how to knit in elementary school. My first creation was supposed to be a scarf, but I ended up splitting my stitches badly. 20 stitches became 96 by the end of my creation. (For non-knitters that meant my scarf started at 2 inches across and ended up being over 1 1/2 feet across.) The leper bandage is a bit of a challenge, but its also fun. I pray to Blessed Father Damien during each row. Somehow I've tied Father Damien and our President Elect together in my mind (they are both from Hawaii). So during my knitting work I talk to Father Damien about changing the heart of President Obama. Every line of stitching is time in prayer I've spent rallying against the FOCA.

Finally, there's the music. Grandma Jean had these super silly songs she sang every time we came for a visit. The one that sticks in my head is "If I knew You were Coming I'd Baked You Cake." I seriously hadn't thought of that song since the late 1980s, yet this Advent I sing it all of the time. The best part is that my daughter Hannah LOVES it. I'll post a You Tube video so you can enjoy it too. It makes a nice accompaniment to your Christmas baking.

If I Knew You Were Comin' I'd've Baked a Cake Eileen Barton

My Grandma Jeans favorite "the grandkids are here" song!

Knit Leper Bandages

If you can knit or crochet here is a good project for post-Christmas empty hands.
Lepers in the Vietnam and the Philippines need our prayers. The government of these two countries refuse to let in the medicine to treat leprosy in there countries. As a result, their citizens suffer from a completely treatable disease in modern times.

http://www.leprosybandages.blogspot.com/

Send a Christmas Card to the Holy Father

For only 42 cents!

Heres the address for the Vatican City Embassy in D.C.

Apostolic Nunciature the Holy See
3339 Massachusetts Ave, NW
Washington, DC 20008

I'm having my kids draw pictures for Our Holy Father today. Don't forget to write a kind thank you note for all of your priests, deacons, religious, parish staff, and your Bishop as well. They work so hard for us during Advent!

The Blessing of Humble Work

The designs Our Blessed Mother have for us, are far better than the dreams we have for ourselves.

This past September, I got a strong prompting from the Holy Spirit to decline to sing in our church choir. It took a few weeks before I could call my choir director to send my regrets. I'm such a glory-hound and Miss Popularity seeker, I didn't make a clean break or even a truthful one. I made all sorts of rash promises that "once I got the home-school thing solved" I'd be back to sing in choir for Advent. I forgot that since it wasn't my plan to "stop" going to choir, it wasn't really up to me to "start" up again.

So this Advents been an odd one, because I haven't been singing. I don't have long music rehearsals on Wednesday nights. The Sunday hymns arrive as a surprise during each Advent Mass.


In this empty space of non-choir, other things have started to happen. The notices in the church bulletin start to tug at my soul more. I no longer have choir as "this is how I serve the church, what-else do you want from me I'm the mother of young children" in my mind. Without that automatic "excuse" I now notice the pleas for volunteers.

For three weeks, I've read an "urgent" call for volunteers to wash the Alter Linens called Purificators. "Thats your job" a voice kept saying in my heart. "That can't be my job," I answered.

Yesterday, I finally made the call to the Purificator coordinator.

"The job is very simple," she said. "You can do it either at your home or at the church. We only have a rule that linen which has touched the chalice be rinsed first in a special bowl set aside for that purpose because we believe that this is the blood of Christ."

There was an awkward pause where the lady tried to regain her footing.

My whole soul responded. "Yes! Its the Blood of Christ. I believe that!"

The lady gave a little happy breath. "Yes! Well, we don't want the Blood to mix into the sewer. That's why we can't just run the cloth through the washing machine. We must first rinse it out and pour the water onto the yard or the garden. Then we can wash the cloth as we normally do."

"It's okay pour the blood onto the ground?" I asked. "I live in an apartment, I just have a little piece of grass outside my patio."

"Yes outside is fine." The lady went on to give me my instructions on when to pick up the cloth and warned me that I'd need special instructions on the ironing part.(I don't even know the name of this "special napkin thing". Does anyone else know?)

The coordinator was so happy. "I've got some ladies who are in their 70s who are just burned out. They keep saying, 'where are all the young women?"

That made me laugh. Two weeks shy of my 34th birthday, as I struggle with infertility and multiple gray hairs, the term "young" felt good to hear. Secondly, my husband and I started going to Daily Mass this year, something we never imagined we could do until we were both elderly. Now we were in a race to see how many of the "spiritual things we'll do we are older" we could instead fit in our mid 30s. If this church job was only done by mostly 70 year olds, then that was the job for me.

Here I am a tiny Protestant convert. A girl for for 28 years denied the Real Presence of Christ. A Daily Mass goer who still struggles with belief & concentration as a 4 year old tugs at hands every time the Priest says "This is the Body of Christ."

Now I get this sweet, humble, hidden task of doing the laundry for Christ. Every two weeks I get to show by my actions the reality of my heart.

I love that it's humble. I love that it's hidden. I love that it's LAUNDRY, that task in my domestic church which so threatens to overwhelm me. Here I'm doing laundry for Christ, just as certainly as if I was St. Martha's helper washing Christ's linens in the 33 AD.

It's not a showy as serving as cantor at Christmas Eve Vigil, yet washing the "chalice napkin thing" is a much more suited task for my roles as a building block in Christ's kingdom.

Our Lady of Guadalupe Fiesta

Build Me a Church Ice-Box Cake invented by the lovely Alice of Cottage Blessings. Made by my friend Susan.

Heavenly Rose Punch

Alex's favorite part of religious celebrations. Playing with his friends' toys!

Simple Craft Idea


My kids couldn't grasp the idea of the image of Our Lady appearing on St. Juan Diego's tilma. I created this super easy craft for them. I made a plain tilma out of paper and rolled up paper roses. Then I switched to the "imprinted" one when I got to the part in the story where the Bishop receives his roses.

Christmas Party for Jon's Office

Many thanks for your prayers on Thursday. We recently hosted our first "work related" party for Jon's office.

We put on our fun party clothes

We decorated our Christmas trees

We polished my grandmother's silver anniversary punch bowl which last saw daylight in 1965. It made the perfect place for Jon's homemade, super strong Egg Nog. I made my first ever bunt cake and prayed hard to St. Martha as I flipped the cake over on the plate. It worked!

We chatted and ate cookies.

Jon made a touching toast to his Boss to thank her for hiring him three years ago. I teared up when I thought about missing the lovely home we've made for ourselves in Maryland if had rigidly kept to our plan of moving into New York City. We held Mimi up as yet another blessing and joked "she probably won't have been born if the Benjamins were stuffed in a studio apartment on Long Island."


We traded hats with our guests

We hugged when it was over.


Hannah decided that the kids bathroom, which is unusually "company clean," deserved its own photo the next day!


The line of the night which made me giggle the most was Jon saying "Everyone from the office will feel at home here. I don't think our place looks too Catholic!" Not only do we have giant Blessed Mother Photos, Crucifixes, and Pictures of our Holy Father on every wall. My dear husband made this statement right next to this Marian alter!


This party honestly was the third event we've hosted in three years, all in the past few weeks. We did Alex's birthday in October, Thanksgiving dinner for my parents and then a cocktail party for Jon's office. I'm so happy that getting formed in Christ means practicing Christian hospitality. I pray for the people in his office, almost every day. It made it easier to bare the extra work of party prep knowing that I'm begging Jesus to invite most of these people back into the Catholic Church. I figured the least I could do was offer up the physical act of shampooing my carpet for their souls as well.

I don't think I realized the magnitude of this hospitality gesture until Jon explained after the party that his office has only gathered TWICE outside of the office in the three years he's worked there. I just made a connection that all the frazzled feelings in the office weren't helped by not getting to see each other as "people" outside the office environment. I hope we'll be able to host quarterly events for his office staff in the future.

St. Lucy Day

This year the Holy Spirit inspired me to make Hannah a St. Lucy Day Dress. (Thankfully the same spirit inspired my friend, Maria S. to end up sewing me the entire dress after I realized that even a simple medieval pattern was over my skill level.) Here is the final dress, front and back.




On our big day, Hannah dressed in this costume passed out donuts to the family for dessert.

If you don't sew you can try a white dress, a white nightgown or even a white sheet in a toga. (St. Lucy lived in Roman times after all!). Get a thick red ribbon to stand for "the blood" as my kids like to say on Martyr Feast days. On her head, I made a simple wreath out of a paper plate, some green construction paper leaves and those nifty battery operated candles at Target.

If you have boys, they can either be the Swedish "star boys" or Roman soldiers. (I made the mistake of leaving Alex out of this feast day celebration. Next year I'll have to figure out a role for him.)

My homeschool group did a lovely St. Lucy's party, but unfortunately I didn't capture any pictures. We played a game where St. Lucy got to "wake up" the sleeping children. My friend Maria B. came up with a lovely candle craft based on an old English tradition. We used an orange as the base for a white candle. The orange symbolized "the earth" and the candle was Christ. We pinned a red ribbon around the middle to symbolize Christ dying for the whole world. Then we poked marshmallows and gummy treats on four toothpicks on the top to symbolize all the blessings on the earth.

These simple costumes and feast day treats are so worth a little extra hassle on my part. During Saturday's Mass, Hannah and I kept poking each other whenever St. Lucy's name was mentioned. It's so inspiring for me to see the the communion of saints come alive for my children.

These things work for big people too! The other day, I find myself praying to St. Elizabeth of Hungary in the spaghetti aisle at Safeway in order to fix more Food Pantry donations into my weekly grocery budget. I was so shocked. I barely knew St. Elizabeth existed before my daughter chose to dress up as her for Halloween. Now she is a dear family friend.

Gift Giving, Part II

One of the many reasons that I love spilling my heart out on this blog is that my real life friends can use these blog posts as a starting off point for setting me straight. (Efficient communication is highly prized since we are Mothers of multiple young and LOUD children).

Okay, so the lovely Maria B. really opened my heart on the whole "gift-giving as a language of love" idea. The quote that inspired me was "it's not how much the gift costs that counts to me. It the love behind it. When someone gets me something unique and personal, I feel like they really know me." (Okay, I'm paraphrasing. Somehow that was much more succinct and beautiful in person).

Sitting on the leather couch during our Friday Homeschool group, I had a sinking feeling. The Mystic Monks Coffee I purchased wasn't unique or personal. My husband and I loved it because it was the only Carmelite monastery in all of America, but that wasn't really putting our family first.

So I picked a lovely jacket for my Mother-in-law on Saturday morning during my St. Lucy's feast day donut run. This sparked a long conversation with my husband, in which he encouraged me to get "thoughtful" gifts for his family and my family. I ended up spending a long, long time in Target on Saturday afternoon among the throngs of frenzied store clerks and suburban shoppers.

I was way out of my comfort zone.

The thing that got me through was holding my rosary in hand, praying Hail Mary's in the elevator, and patiently scanning things into that electronic price checker to see how many of my kid's Christmas presents could still fit into my budget.

I also took it as a special task to be kind to harried Mothers who had trailing kids on their shopping carts.

I started to mentally complain a lot and then I remembered that it was St. Lucy's feast day. Getting "martyred" in the shopping mall for Christ doesn't really compare to getting your eyeballs plucked out in the 4th century.

I started to complain at home and my husband said "I think we are one of those people who love to show charity to strangers and dislike showing charity to our family members."

Hmm. . . I noticed the large bag of spaghetti supplies for our food pantry and the small brooch for my sister-in-law in my Target bag. Both bought at the same time from the same store at the "request" of my Blessed Mother. The one for the poor I do cheerfully, the one for my sister I totally resent as a "waste of time and money."

Seems like I have some sort of mental block there!

Dear Blessed Mother, help form in me a Marian heart. Help me pray for all of those in material and spiritual need during this Advent season. We hope for peace in our families and peace in our world.

The Extended Family Gift Giving Dilemma

As an extra complication in converting to Catholicism, we struggled with how to pick Christmas gifts for our extended family members. Jon's family, with the exception of one Sister, are all lapsed Catholics. My whole family is Protestant. Everyone, however, is completely 'into" gift giving. Whatever that form of receiving love is called, both our parents and siblings express their love in gifts.

The problem is that both Jon and I rank "gift giving" as the lowest of low priorities. It's why my wedding band is a simple gold ring as opposed to a large diamond. It's why I can't even remember the last anniversary gifts we exchanged. I get irritable when shopping on the internet and even more going into stores. Giving gifts is so not our thing.

So when we dove into Catholicism as newlyweds, we were both excited to discover that Advent & Christmas were about so much more than how many wrapped presents got piled under the tree. We used that "message" to our own selfish ends.

The first year of our marriage, we made handmade glass candles in wine glasses and coffee mugs. I hand sewed a snowflake Christmas tree skirt for my Sister-in-law. For everyone else, I bought a sewing machine and taught myself how to make flannel pj bottoms.

The Homemade Christmas of 2001, did not go over well. All of the wine glasses broke in the mail. My extended family dutifully wore their PJs at Christmas, only to discover that since I didn't know how to sew a proper crotch seam an important part of them was exposed after only one wash.

Christmas 2003 was our first year with Baby Hannah. Swept up in love we decided that giving gifts was a complete "waste." Instead we saved up an outrageous amount of money to buy a water buffalo from Heffier International for each of our parents. The parents didn't actually get a buffalo, rather a donation was made to a charity which sent a water buffalo to someone who needed it. Our siblings got cards that they had "bought a duck" or "a beehive" for someone in need. God bless our mothers who took this gift in stride. Our siblings let us know that buying a gift to give to someone else didn't really "count."

For three years we selfishly nursed our hurt feelings and refused to buy any gifts because "we were too poor." Last year, my husband announced that we were sending good Catholic gifts to everyone. I was a little slow to get on board, unhelpfully pointing out that we were spending far more money on our families than on our own children. My husband insisted on the matter. I'm so happy he did, because our compromise is finding yummy gifts made by Monks and Nuns.

Now spending money feels good. Our siblings get gifts they like to open. We give money to the monastery. We say secret prayers that having a box of Monk made chocolate laying around the house might inspire some curiosity about the Faith. We are also, gasp, seeing an improvement in our relationship with our siblings when we put their wishes ahead of our own. It's win, win, win.

So thanks be to St. Nicholas for changing our Scrooge hearts.

HT/If you want to see some lovely Monk gift ideas, check out "the Anchoress."

Sesame Street - The Ladybugs' Picnic

Our current favorite You Tube pick. Mimi just bounces around whenever this song appears.

Super Easy Our Lady of Guadalupe Snack

For Juan Diego's Saints Day on Tuesday, the kids and I made "Tilma of Roses" sandwiches. Take a white tortilla. Cut it into the shape of a shirt with a knife. Add a smear of mustard for Our Lady's image. Place some cherry tomatoes and some curled ham slices for the "roses."

I read Nican Mopohua's "The Story of Juan Diego" which I got from my dear friend Jennifer F. at lunch. The kids payed extra attention to the story because they were eating unusual sandwich. I don't know why, but "special snacks" play a big part in our home catechism class. Thank you Alice!

Read Cottage Blessings for whole Our Lady of Guadalupe Tea menu.

http://alice.typepad.com/cottage_blessings/2006/12/a_tea_in_honor_.html

Good Advice

When it is all over you will not regret having suffered; rather you will regret having suffered so little, and suffered that little so badly.

-- St. Sebastian Valfre

to hear 48 hours before I exhibit the unfamiliar virtue of hospitality for my husband's boss & office co-workers.

I didn't find, "furiously research the virtue of Hospitality as Proclaimed by the Council of Trent" on any secular holiday party planning list. However, I highly recommend it!

Prayer 101

Okay, so nothing has intimidated me more than discovering that my primary job as a secular Carmelite is prayer. “Prayer for priests and prayer for sinners.” Just writing that line makes my heart light. It’s such a lovely, inviting task. Much like, “please invite your dearest friends to share coffee at the National Gallery cafe on your birthday and then visit your favorite artwork of your Blessed Mother together.”

‘Plan a birthday party tea at the National Gallery,” that’s the insight I received at Adoration recently. A happy enjoyable task, I couldn’t wait to do. That is for all of the ninety sections it took to open up an Evite folder.

Suddenly a birthday tea at the Smithsonian seemed intimidating. Who would I invite? Do my Protestant, non-Mary ‘worshiping” Mom & Sister get placed on the invite list? What about the logistics? What should I write about directions and parking situation? And most importantly, is everyone going to think that I’m crazy for wanting to stand around “lonely’ former alter paintings with my rosary?

(That “people will think I’m crazy” pride thing trips me up a lot).

That ability I have to take a perfect, easy, holy task and muck it up in my brain with endless anxious “am I doing this wrong?” questions also happens a lot.

I had a breakthrough on the prayer thing which I’m writing down so that I’ll remember the next time I start suffering from social anxiety with Jesus again.

A few weeks ago, I had a broken conversation with my sister. I had a long car ride home on the George Washington Parkway. I was all alone in the car (a great rarity in my current life). I needed to talk to someone. We don’t own a cell phone and for the thousand time I thought “this is one of those moments when it would be really nice to be able to call Jon.”

I couldn’t call my husband, but a little voice inside said “you can always call Jesus on the cell phone!”

I quickly bent my three fingers and place my pinky to my mouth and my thumb to my ear. (Making an inverted Hawaiian sign is how my 18 month old daughter & I pretend to talk on the phone in my house.) The motion was super quick. I think I even forgot make the sign of the cross.

With my pretend cell phone on my right ear, I started talking to Jesus. It was so easy. I could find the words to talk to him “on a cell phone”-- those easy, non scripted things on my heart—that had eluded me when I tried to pray “the right way” with my hands clasped and my head in serious prayer mode.

I told Jesus about the things in my heart. I told him about all the brokenness with my sister and my hurt that my Catholic faith seems to be the wedge that drives us further away from understanding each other. All these feelings which I thought were snarled in a endless knot came flowing all out in these relaxed, easy words.

I told my husband last night I started to imagine that my prayer to Jesus were a simple cell phone call. I showed him my silly hand motion that helps me to pray.

Jon got so excited about the metaphor. “You’ve got to collect yourself and dial the right number. That’s the recollecting your soul to God and making the sign of the cross” he said.

The he told me something really sweet. “You know that prayer of the quiet that you always struggle with?”

I nodded.

“That’s not anything grand or mysterious. That’s waiting on the cell phone connection until Jesus answers back.”

Remembering to pause in my stream of consciousness so that Jesus gets a chance to answer back?

Wow. A simple lack of social etiquette that I struggle with in real life.

I’m always excitedly talking OVER my friends’ words and missing half of their tender advice.

The prayer of the quiet is holding my tongue and letting Jesus have a turn to talk.

“I can work on prayer of the quiet!” I said. “That’s a skill that would be nice to have in my “real” life too.

Prayer 101. Simple. Easy. And endlessly useful.

Happy Feast of the Immaculate Conception!

Stirring words from Father Francisco:

"Forget about the type of fruit debate. That is not important. The sin our first parents committed was DISOBEDIENCE!

The first lie told by the Devil was that "God does not want us to become like him. The clever serpent told Eve, God only forbids you from eating the fruit because "God doesn't want you to be like Him.'

That lie is told over and over again. God only makes rules, because He wants to control you. He doesn't want you to be like Him.

That is a lie. God gives us rules. He gave Moses the Ten Commandments. He gives us the Church teachings, all the prohibitions of things we shouldn't do because He loves us and wants us to be like Him."