Why I Love My Husband, Part IX

I'm used to thinking of my husband as my best friend, my red hot lover, and my hero who walks in the front door at 7 PM every night and convinces our four rowdy kids to go to bed. I'm not used to thinking of him as "my spiritual helpmate."  Yet that is exactly what he is to me. Sometimes I'm amazing how his insights are "spot-on" for clearing out whatever knots I've currently tied my spiritual life into. "Wow, he's good!" I often say. Then I remember the Holy Spirit is always helping him, help me.

There are many beautiful words that can describe my sacramental marriage to Jon Benjamin, but "a spiritual friendship" is one of the sweetest!

Just for Today, Please Stop the Obama Bashing on Facebook

Let me tell you a story. When I was three months old, my maternal grandmother carried me to her Methodist Church to get baptized over the objections of my hippie, "God is everywhere, we don't need to go to Church to find him" parents. My other grandmother sent the antique family baptismal gown for me to wear during my ceremony. No matter what the fads were during the early 1970s, my two grandmothers were united in one firm conviction. Their beloved granddaughter was going to get an old fashioned head dunking in a "real" church as soon as possible.

 I have done an absolutely miserable job of keeping my baptismal garment spot-less until my death (praise God for the restorative powers of Confession). Yet even if I was more pure of heart from the get-go, I would NEVER, ever be able to repay those two women for the priceless gift they gave me. Just like the baby Jesus, a woman carried me up to my Father's Temple when I was a mere infant and dedicated me to God. I lived the Feast of the Presentation of the Lord in real life, as did many of my readers.

 Now contrast my story with President Obama. From all appearances his Kansas Mom and his Kansas Grandma did an awesome job raising him. The guy ended up as the first African-American head of the Harvard Law Review. He's in a solid marriage, has two wonderful girls, and he's currently President of the United States of America. From what I've been able to piece together, however, it appears that there is one thing they omitted. He didn't get baptized as a kid.

 We have a strong fight with the Obama administration's recent ruling that Catholic institutions must pay for birth control pills, abortions and sterilizations. While we must support our Bishops, write our outraged letters to Congress, and pray fervent prayers to Saint Micheal the Archangel, we also need to remember one crucial fact. Our fight is not with President Obama. Our fight is with the Devil. That tricky, mean-spirited Devil who often paints black as white and can easily mislead boatloads of people away from God's glorious Truth.

 So during all our intense activity let us remember the virtue of humility. Most of us got graced with infant baptism. We didn't become Christians because of our own efforts. We were carried to Christ in a faithful woman's arms.  Let us have compassion on those who didn't get that favor. On this Feast of the Presentation, let us truly pray for our enemies. Let us pray that the Illumination of Christ comes to enlighten all minds, our own minds and President Obama's mind too.

Mother Mary, pray for us. Pray for President Obama to become one of your beloved sons, fashioned in the image and likeness of your dear Jesus.

Better Than I Used to Be -- Tim McGraw (Lyrics on Screen+Download)

A rough week for me. But I thought this song is inspiring and pretty reflective of where I am in my spiritual journey right now.

March for Life

God bless everyone who is marching tomorrow. This pregnant Carmelite will be holding you, and our whole nation, up in prayer.

Great Reads

Still climbing out of eight days of the stomach flu in our house. Surprisingly, by NOT reading the internet very much this week I stumbled upon some truly excellent reads. (What is this, a sign of "less is more?" my Jesus?)

Here is a totally inspiring conversion story from Secularism to the Catholic faith. (My dear Carmelites even provided a setting for a stranger to meet face to face with our Jesus.) This line made me cry:

"These days, when I pray the Rosary, I find myself wondering which woman was the last in my line to do so, and how easily she gave it up."

(h/t Father Dan Gallaugher)

Here is an inspiring piece from the Desert Nuns on sanctity that got me kick started this morning.

Your Husband Might Be a Carmelite If....

his compassionate response to your puking sessions from a stomach bug while being 29 weeks pregnant with his child include saying deep St. John of the Cross quotes on the joy of suffering for Jesus.

I'd like to say its a mark of my own increased Carmelite formation that I didn't slug him in return for giving me all of this uplifting spiritual advice while I hugged the toilet bowl. I just kept muttering "I know I'm supposed to feel this way, but I don't!"

What Is On My Plate This Week--Update

This kid, so cute.....

 

...so much trouble!

I had a stupid idea that the more kids you had, the easier it was to be a parent. I would have all this "experience" right?

Yeah, right.

Then came dear Miss Tess.

So my kiddo flunked her hearing exam in her right ear last week. Because Tess was on such strong drugs during her stay in the NICU there is an ongoing concern that she might be deaf. We're off to see a hearing specialist for more tests on Thursday. I specifically promised Jesus that I would NOT freak about about this. My mantra has been "no need to panic until we have a specific problem identified."

Then this morning, my darling starts throwing up.

For most kids, just a stomach bug.

For my post-surgery kid, vomiting when no one else in the family shows signs of the stomach flu could mean intussusception or "telescoping of the gut." According to her surgeon anytime she throws up I'm supposed to race to the ER to have an x-ray to confirm that her little small intestine hasn't folded in on itself.

It's 6 AM. My husband has already left for his long commute to work, I'm alone with three sleeping children and one sick toddler. My usual Carmelite prayer time was spent asking Mary "What am I supposed to do here?"

I didn't end up going to the ER.

So far, Miss Tess seems like she's back to her old self. I'm assuming that "intussusception" comes with a few more symptoms than messy sheets at 3 AM and 6 AM.

So that is what we are up to this week. Taking down the Christmas Tree. Teaching a reluctant reader how to enjoy Judy Moody. And waiting to see if my darling toddler is deaf or needs additional small intestine surgery.

At least my life as a housewife is never, ever dull!

Update: Tess passed her hearing test. Thanks for your prayers. When we started the test Tess was having the same odd response difference between her right and left ears. Suddenly, my extra shy girl pulled it together and started to actually cooperate with the audiologist. So her final, clear hearing test result was ranked "excellent." Praise God!

We also ended up having the stomach flu in our house, not intussusception. Of course my four year old confirmed Tessy's alternative diagnosis by throwing up on the way home from the audiologist while our new mini-van was stuck in the middle of the HOV lane on I-270. But hey, your minivan doesn't legally belong to you until it absorbs some puke stains, right? :-)

What the Poor Need More than Money

One of my Sunday School students stopped coming to class this winter. When I called to check in on her, I heard a rough story. Her Mom is a widow with five children. My student and her siblings had been out of school for more than two weeks with "walking pneumonia" and her Mom was having trouble finding contract work with so many needy, sick kids to care for at home.

I called our Church to see if we could give this family some help and first person I talked to was not so helpful. (It's hard to explain but in very poor parishes, versus more wealthy ones--there is this strict line between the "deserving and undeserving" poor. Charity doesn't just go to whoever scores low on an income-asset test. When an entire parish is poor the poor box money often goes out to the "good" poor and not the "bad" poor. The "good poor" are widows who show up reliably at Mass, serve on the Social Concerns Committee and are poor through "no fault of their own." The bad poor are the ones who show up irregularly at Mass and Sunday School, have children far behind the neat sacramental schedule and constantly "need charity instead of give charity.")

I'm a horrible, messy, distracted, barely able to stand on my own two feet Catholic myself. I'm the one in Mass with a pregnant belly, a toddler with mismatched shoes, and a naughty seven year old who sometimes KICKS his sister's dropped bottle all the way down the pew instead of handing it gently to his mother when asked.

As a result, I have soft spot for the "undeserving" poor of my parish. I wasn't about to let this needy family go unaided. At this point, I could either "fight" with the parish, or just handle the situation myself. I asked Jon and we decided to send a good gift card from Target in case they needed Christmas presents, clothes or food.

The actual gift card purchase was so fun. My kids picked out the "scratch and sniff" Merry Christmas Card. I wrote a nice note saying "God see the work that you are doing for your family" and attempted to disguise my handwriting. Then I put our Catholic Church on as the return address and popped it into the mail.

On Christmas Eve the Mom called me.

I freaked out when Jon handed me the phone. I thought that she had figured out that it was our family who sent the gift card. I felt all squeamish inside. "It was supposed to be a secret" I complained mentally to Jesus.

The Mom never mentioned the gift card. Instead she was calling all apologetic that her family couldn't come over for Christmas dinner. (Honestly dear readers, I forgot I had mentioned that as a possibility three weeks earlier). She couldn't come because her 15 year old son who suffered from Depression was committed into a Adolescent Psych Ward over the weekend. My Sunday School Student was going to be spending Christmas Day visiting with her brother in a mental hospital in another state.

I was stunned.

I was stunned because of the glory of the Holy Spirit. Here I was concerned that this family was unemployed and recovering from pneumonia, when the cross they were really struggling with was so much harder.

And I was stunned that my "almsgiving" task, for which I was busy patting myself on the back-- was the least important thing I was giving to this family.

This woman was in tears on Christmas Eve because I had invited her family into my home. I wanted them to visit.

I took a deep breath. I do not know this Mother well at all and there seemed to be all sorts of hidden minefields in a conversation about a child's commitment to a psych ward. But I just asked the same caring questions that I ask if one of my friends was going to Children's National Hospital with a physical illness. I asked if she trusted the doctors. I asked if she was scared to bring him home. And that was the right questions to ask.

I'm so freakin' grateful to be a Catholic. To be a Secular Carmelite like Mary. I keep wanting to do something "big" to fight poverty in Appalachia. I want to join a committee, or volunteer at a legal clinic or sew sleeping bags for the homeless. God keeps reminding me about the virtue of Humility. He brings me people to serve--I don't need to go out in search of them. The tasks he asks me to do for them are always simple and light. Invite a stranger to Christmas dinner. Listen to a Mom talk as she drives back from the hospital where she just left her sick son.

St. Bernadette, please pray for Family "X" to heal. Please help my fourth grade student make her First Communion this Spring despite all the health challenges that her family faces. This is a cause so close to your own heart!

My First Advent as a Carmelite

This Christmas was my first as an official Carmelite. I found myself making some daring changes.

First, I bought the gifts for the grouchy people on my list first. I stretched myself and bought "nice gifts." I didn't buy cool gifts made by nuns this year. I didn't try to make myself look "hip" or "holy". I didn't buy things that were irresponsibly expensive with the hidden hope of getting "liked" this season, but I put myself out there. I spent the more money on gifts and postage than I was normally comfortable spending and I (the girl who HATES shopping) spend some uncomfortable time hunting extra hard in fro-fro stores. I spent the money on others and didn't fret about what was going to be left to buy stuff for my own children. And then I stood in long lines with a pregnant belly and four grumpy kids to get those gifts shipped out at the Post Office by Dec 6th. Ahh! Advent got easier with that hard task off of my plate.

Then it was on to sharing love with the neighbors.

I live in a kennel. Seriously. The neighbors on each side of my leave their very large, very noisy dogs outside for hours and hours at a time. The poor dogs never stop pleading to be let back inside. Did you know that a Great Dane's bark can be heard inside a brick house even when all the doors and windows are shut? For the past five months, this constant barking has been driving me insane. (Don't even ask me if I've talked to the neighbors because the answer is yes and obviously it's just a mark of my "city ways" that I walk my dog on a leash around the neighborhood myself instead of "tossing him out into the back yard for hours to poop.")

So here is the thing, I needed to get a gift for the neighbors for Christmas. So I prayed to St. Francis of Assisi and I got all the neighbors cute organic dog treats for Christmas. I wrapped them up in pretty Christmas bows. I wrote nice notes. I dropped them off at all the houses secretly in the middle of the night. Amazing reaction!

I didn't realize that since none of these neighbors have kids, they feel like their dogs "are their kids". Sending treats to the dogs was received with such appreciation.
The best part was that it made me feel so better. Now when the Great Dane starts going I have affection in my heart for him.

This Advent I spent most of it very sick. I think pregnant ladies have a lower immune system, right? Anyway, I caught a bad cough on Dec 8th and I was like the walking wounded for all of Advent and Christmas. It was sort of relaxing because I didn't stress out about making this Advent "prayerful." I didn't worry about "making memories."

I knew in my weak state, I had to peacefully take whatever I could or could not get done that day. (I couldn't even really have a plan because this virus came with a nasty habit of starting a coughing fit so bad that I'd suddenly have to throw up. I never knew when I was going to have to retreat into my bedroom for a few hours.)

Becoming a Carmelite has made me more peaceful about Advent. I don't feel like I have to "try hard" to be holy, or force my family to "connect with Christ." I'm more trusting. I know that He's looking for me far more than I'm looking for Him! I've just got to relax and open my heart to the grace He's already poured out into my life.

The "no plan/not trying to hard Advent" ended up being so beautiful. I hope I get the grace to repeat it again next year.

War Horse--The Moviegoer

My parents dropped by on their way home from spending Christmas visiting my sister tonight. We lucked into free babysitting for two hours and took in the movie "War Horse." I thought the plot a more saccharin (and simultaneously less believable) rip off of "Black Beauty." I'd save your precious movie dollars and wait to rent this film at Blockbuster.

The funniest critique came from my husband in the parking lot. "My Faith has sort of ruined historical fiction for me right now. Modern writers make such horrible mistakes when they try to depict the past when people were better Catholics. Way was the Irish Catholic mother knitting during a time of great stress, instead of praying? Why did the grandfather talk about the spiritual significant of passenger pigeons to his sick and sad granddaughter? He was a good French Catholic farmer, he would have said something about Jesus in that moment. And where were all the siblings?? Everyone in 1914 rural Ireland was not an only child!"

He makes me laugh, that man!

Update: Wow, totally disagree with the New York Times flattering review of War Horse.

Happy 37th Birthday To Me!

 

Two of my pregnant, Catholic friends drove over an hour to hang out with me at my Birthday Tea! Can life get any sweeter?

 

Oh it can, since my sick husband stayed up late painting my dining room pink in time for my Birthday Party. I love you, Jon!

The Hidden Power of a Carmelite!

A dear reader brought this great blog post to my attention today about a reflection from last years March for Life.

"During the speeches, my eyes fell on a Carmelite brother in a very rough and worn brown habit. He bore a beard and appeared recollected the entire time. I looked down and saw that he wore simple thong sandals and no socks. It was below freezing outside and there were his toes. Let me tell you, my toes were cold and I was wearing two pairs of socks. He had to have been suffering.

I understood in that moment that we can't win this fight with just speeches, t-shirts, and banners. That thin, bearded Carmelite brother was secretly and quietly overcoming the demonic principalities in our nation's capital. He was doing it through recollected silence and penance. He was the the true sign of contradiction against the culture of sex, the culture of excess, and the culture of death.

May God richly reward him, hear our prayers, and bring this national scourge to and end."

Happy Birthday Jesus!

 

Merry Christmas!

 

Today Everyone Is a Carmelite!

There was a special "buzz" in the air yesterday when I went shopping at Target. Maybe it's just because I just moved to a small town in the Bible Belt, but everyone was patient and smiling and the clerks actually still said "Merry Christmas!"

It was so cool because I realize that today--everyone is a Carmelite! Everyone is more conscious that they are doing their work "for Him" which is what "praying always" means.

When I was a kid, I had that thought "Why can't Christmas last all year!" And today, as a Carmelite, I just feel so happy for everyone. It's like "Hey, today you get a chance to taste that same exciting spiritual "buzz" in your daily life that my Johnny and I get to lap up all year!"

Happy Christmas everyone!!!!

The Maccabeats - Purim Song

Taking the Bible Stories--Literally

I know we Catholics aren't involved in the debate "is the Bible literally true", yet the deeper I grow in Faith, the more I drink in Holy Scripture, the more I start to see these fantastic "tales" I grew up with as a Protestant start to factually happen in my own life.

Hammond & Queen Ester

If you haven't yet read the book of Ester yet, take a few minutes soon to check it out. After the Jews got kicked out of Jerusalem, some were taken to the Mesopotamia. A beautiful Jewish girl was kidnapped by the King and forced to endure a year long "beauty pageant" to win the heart of the king. Ester is so NOT into this early version of the Bachelor but guess who ends up being chosen to become Queen?

One of the king's henchmen, named Hammond, hates the Jews and comes up with a tricky plot to make sure that all the Jewish people are massacred on the same day. Ester's uncle comes to her and tells her that she must act to save her people. "God has placed you on the throne for this purpose," he says.

Queen Ester risks death to save the Jewish people. The Jews are saved and in a very specific "tables are turned" event, Hammond is hung on the same gallows he built to kill Queen Ester's uncle.

Fast forward thousand and thousands of years to September 2009. My husband and I are sitting in his childhood living room in Upstate New York waiting to bury his father.

Jon's father had cancer, and died very suddenly 12 weeks after his first diagnosis. We got the unexpected news on a Saturday, left a hurried message on voice mail at Jon's work and frantically drove 12 hours to reach his hometown. On Monday, my husband spoke to his immediate superior (hereafter "Hammond") and was told "don't worry about missing work for your father's funeral. Take all week to stay there and help take care of your mother."

On Wednesday, Jon called to check in at work and got horrifying news. The main boss and all of his co-workers had no idea where he'd been for the past 48 hours. "Hammond" had refused to pass on any messages from Jon and had "allegedly" walked around the office saying "Where is Jon? This is so not like him to just disappear on us!"

My husband was horrified. We knew "Hammond" had been gunning for a replacement for Jon for sometime, but how could we have predicted this? It felt so awful to be both dressed in black, grieving the sudden death of a Father, and now have the possibility that Jon might be fired from his job solely because he tried to attend his father's funeral.

My husband's face was totally white. "What do we do?" he asked me. "Should we run home today?"

In this rare moment of clarity, I thought of the Bible Story of Queen Ester. "No", I said. "We're here. We are going to bury your father tomorrow. We're going to trust God to protect your job."

We got through that horrible week and Jon still had a job when we came home to Washington D.C.

One year later, Jon came home and told me that "Hammond" had been fired as a result of a really crazy situation. Hammond had tried to keep her firing secret from Jon for almost 3 months, but it all came out into to light. We were just stunned. It was such an obvious work of God.

Jon now has a new supervisor. While his workplace is not perfect, it's many, many times better.

Our God is trustworthy. Even when it seems like Evil has the upper hand, God will never ever abandon his people. I watched that video of the Maccabeats sing "the Purim" song (which is the traditional festival celebrating Queen Ester) with tears in my eyes this week. That story means so much to my heart.

Happy Hanukkah!

Time to DELIGHT in all those great Maccabeats videos.

(Umm, where o where is our great Catholic acapella groups?)

The Maccabeats - Candlelight - Hanukkah

The Maccabeats - Miracle - Matisyahu - Hanukkah