Renunciation

I sent my honey on a retreat this weekend at a local monastery. This is his first and it feels so weird for him to be away. Yesterday, I got worried about physically surviving the stress of caring for all five kids without a break. Now I'm worried simply about myself surviving emotionally. I'm sure Jon's "Business Trip with Jesus" will be a great source of growth for me as well as him.

While looking over the Trappist website I found this beautiful description of monastic life.

What, then, is the monastic life?
The monastic life is a communal way of life in which men and women seek to respond to the conversion, the turning to God, offered by Jesus in the Gospels. In the monastic life, that turning to God is accomplished by means of renunciation. The various forms of renunciation are rooted in the teachings of Jesus and are not taken up for their own sake, or to be better than anyone else or to demonstrate one’s endurance. They are not embraced to prove that one is flawless or to draw down God’s grace like a magnet. Rather, the renunciation of one’s will, of marriage and family, of ownership, self-determination – ultimately, of oneself – are like an athlete’s training, to render body and soul a more responsive organism to God’s work. Just as athletic training doesn’t guarantee winning the game, this renunciation doesn’t guarantee sainthood. But such renunciations could focus one’s attention and reveal how much we depend on God. They can also free us from what would distract us from serving God and allow us to serve our community and the Church by prayer, sacrifice and living the communal life.More importantly, these renunciations are rooted in the teaching and example of Jesus. No matter how imperfectly we live them, they orient us to Christ and open us to his support and mercy and grace.




I liked this quote too:


"Life can be good in the monastery, but it’s not always fun. Remember, we are living a life of conversion – we even take a vow of continual conversion; but people in the process of conversion are not always the most pleasant people to be with. In fact, they can be just like you and me on our bad days. But I’ve always been able to find patience, support, direction and helpful challenge in the community if I looked for it. So, yes, life is pretty good here."


I laughed when I read the part in bold. That is SO ME right now. Caring for Miss Chilipepper is ripping the emotional skin off of me--I constantly feel like I'm showing the not very pretty parts of my soul to others. But she's pushing me into greater conversion of heart. Somewhere in this mess are my butterfly wings!

Five Years Ago Today....

We had our own visitation with Maria Elizabeth!  Oh Baby!  By the way, all of the fans of the blog have my daughter to thank for its creation. Miss Mimi was our hardest kid yet (she easily beat Tess of  NICU fame) and the only way I stayed sane during her rough start was to start writing a blog. Good things come out of tough times. Thanks be to God!

FEAST OF THE VISITATION OF THE VIRGIN MARY :: Catholic News Agency (CNA)

Today is the Feast of the Visitation! My daughter, Maria Elizabeth, was born on this feast day! Last week, I saw a stain glass window that had St Joseph pictured in the Visitation. I'd never seen a picture of him there--most of the paintings focus solely on the glorious meeting of St Elizabeth and Our Lady. But this article states that it was highly likely that St. Joseph took Mary to Elizabeth's home and then picked her up 3 months later. As my Johnny said "Of course, he'd take care of his girl! I'd never let you do a long trip alone!"

FEAST OF THE VISITATION OF THE VIRGIN MARY :: Catholic News Agency (CNA)

Cake Boss Birthday

I convinced a church friend to teach my birthday girl how to make decorations for her own birthday cake. Here's the future baker in action. So happy!

Why I love West Virginia

because you can find a deer head inside someone's kitchen! We spent five years living just 30 minutes south in Rockville, MD and I never saw a deer's head in any room decor. I like that WV's a little unexpected.

Mimi --My Birthday Party Watercolor

 

Why I Homeschool....

I handed my daughter a $1.99 Carolya watercolor set and some posterboard for her 5th Birthday. She immediately asked "Where's my easel, Mom?" I started laughing. A desk used to be good enough for me in kindergarten. Thankfully, I figured out that a dining room chair can work as an easel in a pinch. Then she had to have a separate chair for her paints. Everything was just so, just like the "real" artists. I love that there are no artifical/useless constraints in our house. You don't have to paint at your desk. Our school work is more like living a real life--you paint how you want to paint--and the results are wonderful!

Throwing Out NFP

My husband and I had a little "kitchen summit" meeting after a pregnancy test came up negative on Saturday. I had some signs of pregnancy, and I never really know when Aunt Flo is going to reappear after childbirth. Twice, I've conceived a new baby while nursing a nine month old older sibling without having a period first. Currently, my newborn is ten weeks old and failing to breastfeeding in a normal pattern due to colic.

I surprised myself by being a little sad that the wash of blue sailed over the blank space without coalescing into that all import blue line.

I've read six million blog posts extolling the virtues of Natural Family Planning (NFP), so I want to share the thought process of one, insignificant Catholic family--who decided not to use contraception, of course, but also decided not to use NFP either.

Our Catechism talks about things that are not allowed in fertility planning, contraception, IVF, artificial insemination, etc. There isn't a real deep discussion of the flip decision --when to be open to life. This is a really important spiritual concept. The entire salvation of our human race happened because one person said "YES" to conceiving Our Lord at a time when pregnancy wasn't exactly the best fit on her personal life timetable. I'm not trying to irresponsible with my fallopian tubes, but there is this sense that my husband and I share, that good things happen when we trust God.

Our hearts have been shaped by leaving the sin of contraception, an unplanned contraceptive "accident", a miscarriage, secondary infertility, and a sick infant who almost died in the NICU. We're blessed by these trials. We're not the same people who flippantly talked about babies belonging in our late 30s after we're done settling into marriage and seeing the world.

Our humility in regard recognizing that God controls our fertility and not us, is hard won. We know that babies are gifts. The best ones are often unplanned. Babies might not stay in your womb or your arms as long as you want. I'll be damned if I'm going to answer this question "When am I ready to care for another child?" in the same way at age 37, that I did at age 28. I'm a different woman. I'm a different mother.

The Catechism talks about decisions regarding "responsible parenthood." Jon and I broke that down into three categories during our kitchen summit: financial standing, physical health and emotional health.

First, the financial facts. My husband and I are blessed to be Carmelites. We expect poverty. Its actually a spiritual blessing to have more mouths to feed with the same amount of money. My husband is blessed with work currently. We can afford to feed and clothe another baby. We home-school, so additional education expenses aren't a problem.

In deciding to be open to life right now, we decided to not worry about catostrophic events in the future. My husband might lose his job in this horrible economy--and if that happens, I might be too afraid to get pregnant until he finds another--but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. I won't turn down a new baby because of some future "what ifs".. what if he loses his job, what if this kid needs braces, what if we're forced to pay the full cost of 6 college educations, etc.

The same goes for my physical health. For now, my health is good. My fifth c-section was my easiest one. We're going to double check with experts to make sure that my uterus is healthy and healed. Everything in our experience is pointing that I've received extra grace to heal well from surgery, so there is nothing to say I can't heal similarly from a sixth. I'm not going to stop having babies based on some abstract number. I'm going to keep being open to babies until I get some sort of firm direction (in prayer or in my doctor's office) to stop.

Then there is my mental health. I think there is some sort of social pressure which says that having babies "to close together" is too hard on a Mom. There is some sort of deep seated fear I'm going to turn into one of those psycho Moms who drown the kids in the bathtub. It's so weird for me, because I have anxiety issues and post-partum depression in my past. So its not like I'm randomly walking around going "Hey, six kids under age 10--no problemo!"

I guess where I am, is that I really, truly trust God. I know that he's got me firmly by the hand. I know in the marrow of my bones that the grace he hands out to all Mothers is real. I just feel like, if he's got me through Five, there's no reason to not trust him to get me through Six.

Once again, I've got humility. Things might change. If I get cancer and I need to go on dangerous drugs, Jon and I will need to practice abstinence. If my anxiety issues get out of hand, then we'll revisit the issue. On the other hand, if I get to 43 without a new baby, we might revisit our old friend, NFP again. This time to try to become pregnant, not avoid it.

However, I'm not going to be afraid to have another baby because I'm convinced that it might ruin my physical health, drive me to the insane asylum, or drive us into the poor house. God has too good of a track record with us to fall for those old tricks.

Which leads me to the real issue for the Benjamins not to have another baby 10 weeks after childbirth--its embarrassing. My parents will hate it. His mother will hate it. People are church will raise their eyebrows. Strangers in Wal-Mart will say "are they all yours?" with even greater inflection.

Vanity is a pretty stupid reason to say no to God. Even for me. And I'm very, very vain.

So I'm saying YES. Or more accurately, I'm a little overwhelmed with caring for colic girl right now so my response is more like "Well, maybe a new baby..."

So Hard, But So Cute!

Nothing like watching Baby Abigail (aka "colic girl" ) fall asleep! This outfit is a "hand me up" for NICU premie Baby Fiona. It made me laugh that her Mom is giving Abigail clothes that teeny Baby Fiona is never going to get big enough to wear this Summer. Still, six pounds is super exciting for micropremies.  We love the nurses who fatten up those sweet NICU premies! God bless them!

Bedroom Make-over

My famous Target Find, The "love is" checklist

Bedroom Make Over

Mom! Her crown is broken off because I put her downtown during "Biker Night" because I was peeved that someone smashed a 800 pound marble statue of Our Lady at St. Joseph Church. She got a little injured during her heoric stand, some of her crown got broken and Jesus' arm got cut off. Somehow her distressed condition sort of makes me love her more. I feel my Carmelite crown is missing pieces on most days.

The drawing is from the first ever Hail Mary I ever said while a tourist at Notre Dame in Paris. That prayer kicked off my whole vocation to marriage. I met my husband 3 weeks later. I love having such a  dramatic time to Mommy Mary.

I'm excited to have votile candles at the ready for all of your prayer intentions.

Bedroom Make Over Part 2

Babies: welcomed but not overwhelmed by their presence

Bedroom Make-over

My potted palm!

Bedroom Make-over Part 3

My husband trying to get shelves up without any proper tools such as a drill or a level. It's tough to be a poor Carmelite, honey!

Bedroom Make over Part 4

Right after we moved out her crib, Tess shows up with a big bucket of toys. She was like "thanks for cleaning up guys. The room looks great now! I'm moving back in" Jon joked it was like a preview of her trying to move home after college.

Paradise Is At Our Fingertips

The brilliant theologian I get to call "husband" has a new saying: "Paradise is at our fingertips." He's on a mission to get more joy into our family. He's convinced that a few tweaks are all we need to get peace, and joy and all that good stuff promised by the Holy Spirit.

We're five days away from our 11th Anniversary. I've been reading too many romance novels, and this overdose made me worried: exactly how were we supposed to keep "romance alive" with all these babies in the house. It's not just tiring to have a newborn with colic. It's hard to even imagine having "date night" in the foreseeable future. Its difficult to trust even my best church friends to babysit if I know there's a 85% chance my daughter could spend the next two hours turning purple with rage because her beloved Mother is missing. (I nicknamed her Miss Chilipepper for a reason! Nevertheless, I'm going to attempt this during the afternoon of June 4).

Also, as a faithful Catholic, I can't lull myself with the slogan "this lack of romance in our marriage is just a season." Sure, Baby Abigail will grow out of colic. But I'm hoping to have other kids. Maybe sooner, than later. So far our track record is 3 out of 5 with colic/painful infant reflux. "May the odds be ever in your favor" is a slogan that doesn't really apply to us having easy babies who will peaceful sleep through three courses at a French cafe.

On Memorial Day, I was sitting on the couch having gloomy thoughts about the State of Our Marriage after Morning Prayer. I shared these with my husband. I told him, "I miss you. I feel like all we do 24/7 is care for our babies. There's no space for us a couple. If we do reconnect at the of the day, I'm either exhausted or we spend our few precious moments having deep business conversations about the family finances." He said "Lets pray about it". Oh yea of little faith. Three years into Carmel and I do these prayers with such little hope that they will be heard and answered.

Six hours later, we painted our bedroom! A lovely apricot color I'd picked out during my pregnancy nesting phase five months ago but somehow never found time to get the actual "low-vapor" paint onto our walls. The paint transformed the space. Our tiny bedroom (the size of some people's walk in closets) went from drab to lovely!

We moved out all the furniture to paint, and we refused to move much back in. I based our bedroom on a Carmelite "cell." I've got a bed, a rocking chair, a lamp, and two tiny side tables. There are no clothes in the closet or a chest of drawers. I even moved out my writing desk and donated that item to my daughter's room.

Inspired, I went to the grocery store and bought a potted palm for $19.95. My nine year old complained bitterly about holding on the way home, while the minivan door was swung open. She said "This is my anniversary gift to you. I'm miserable!!!" (Ah, I love age 9. It's like a preview of age 13). I got a lamp at TJ Max and new pjs for both spouses. (Finally, PJ bottoms for him that don't have blue paint on them. I also realized that the only item of clothing I enjoy shopping for right now is new nightgowns. I've got a 10 week post-partum stomach "poof" and bags under my eyes, but man---do I like to look smashing while nursing at 3 AM).

Then I came home with shelves from Target. My husband spent a lot of effort, and considerable prayers to St. Joseph to hang them. Now we have Our Lady of Mount Carmel smiling down from our bedroom wall. I put a mason jar of Queen Anne's lace by the phone and a candle. We lit a candle in our bedroom last night. I was taking a shower last night to wash off all the yucky pollen from my eyes, and I felt like I bought my first apartment. "There's a burning candle, in my bedroom," I said to myself with glee. It was so adult. So obviously anti-child proof.

The best part of the bedroom make-over was the fact that we removed Tessy's crib.  Sorry Dr Sears. For the first time, we are not co-sleeping with a newborn and we do NOT have a crib in our room. I wasn't sure my toddler was actually going to accept the fact that's she now moved upstairs. (We'd tried this before Baby Abigail's birth and teething caused a reversion.) So I made her crib mattress into a trundle bed. So easy!

It's such a psychological difference to have Baby Abigail and Toddler Tess join us as "guests" to our Master Bedroom. Abigail's in a little portable bassinet. I pull her out into the dining room when I want time alone with Jon. I roll her back in at night. Tess has a trundle bed, if she insists on spending the night with us. Yet there is no baby stuff in here. No giant crib. I have no idea how long I can keep Abigail in a bassinet, but for this month life is wonderful.

Now my bedroom is so lovely and wonderful. I reclaimed the term "romance" from those twisted romance novels. To me, romance is listening. I listen to God. I listen to my spouse. I'm a child of Mary's whose love affair started at the Cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris. And it's okay if I can't predict where my marriage is going to be at year 12, much less year 22--because Jesus (the true lover of my soul) is a romantic guy who is full of wonderful surprises.

More Thoughts on Anxiety, Part 2

Two themes I'm working on this year is discernment of spirits and the virtue of humility.

First, God is always encouraging. I love that quote from St Pete "Encourage each others while it is still today." St Pete is a super sanguine like me. Some artist portray him as this stern guy with a big list on who gets into the Pearly Gates--sort of like a more frightening version of Santa Claus. But he's not. St Pete is a cheerleader. Every word in his letters is encouraging, hopeful. You can do this! You can make it to heaven, too! Don't give up!

My bff St Teresa of Avila is another cheerleader for God. I picture her throwing her arm around me after a particularly difficult prayer session and saying "Yes, my dear, you do have the focus of a gnat. I started off as a gnat in prayer too. Just keep going! Things are going to get easier in prayer if you don't give up!"

Right now, my thoughts about my vocation as a wife and mother are a mess. I've got about two virtues thoughts for every six dozen evil ones. If my soul was a garden, you couldn't even tell what God planted in their most of the time, because the evil weeds are choking the light.

To fight anxiety, it's a constant weeding process. Toss out the bad thoughts, encourage the good ones.

Second, I've got a real problem with perfectionism. It's not enough the I'm caring for a newborn. I'm supposed to be caring for a newborn AND making sure there is a "real" dinner in the house AND the seven people I dearly love always have clean shirts.

Heaven forbid if a toddler suddenly teaches herself how to unlock a locked screen door, escape outside, and be returned by a neighbor while I'm comatose the morning after I return home from a c-section. (Yes, my Tess this March. Thank you guardian angels). I will miss the fact that toddler are notorious trouble-finders in every household at almost any time. Instead, I'll focus on the idea that I'm a neglectful mother, totally undeserving of five children and its a certainty that I'm going to completely fail each and everyone one of them.

I'm not good at practicing this yet, but in "theory" I'm finding that true humility is the antidote to perfectionism. Perfectionism is actually a form of hidden spiritual pride. I expect myself to meet certain goals 100% of the time. In contrast, a Carmelite monk named Brother Lawrence was an expert at humility. Whenever he screwed up, he said "Look God, see what a mess I am without you? Come over here and straighten me out." He didn't let any sin or mistake separate himself from God. Instead, he used his sins as a spring board to get closer to God.

I don't like having all of these "issues" and cracks, especially when I see it negatively impacting my family. But I DO LIKE how everything keeps pushing me further up Mount Carmel, and closer to my Lord.

Fighting Anxiety

(Someone I love has anxiety this week, so I thought I'd invite you all into the joint conversation)

Anxiety attacks are like an old sport's injury. On an average day, its unnoticeable. Add a weekend of strenuous hiking, and your bum ankle makes you hobble for weeks. As Catholics, we are constantly running a spiritual marathon. We're going to have more anxiety attacks, than the secular "civilians" around us, because God is always pushing our frail, imperfect bodies to be more like Him. There's a reason the words "protect us Lord, from all anxiety" ends every Mass. We need that prayer. After mortal sin, anxiety attacks are the Devil's favorite weapon to get us off track from our vocation.

For me, it's helpful to use a multi-layered healing plan whenever anxiety attacks surface.

First, its recognition. I need to know when my anxiety levels are peaking above normal. Honestly, its really hard to be a Mother. A constant level of paranoia is necessary when parenting a toddler. Sometimes it's hard to know when I'm appropriately "concerned" about my children and when I'm being unreasonably anxious.

If I feel myself slipping, I need to get out of my head. My thoughts are really destructive. I can try to pray about it at this point, but even more helpful is to talk to someone else. Just verbalizing my thoughts helps me sometimes. For me the best person to talk to is my husband. He's solidly in my corner. He's been down this road before. He usually can be a valuable outside "check" to the swirling thoughts in my head.

Now sometimes, my anxiety is so bad we get into a fight. (By fight I mean, my husband gently tells me things are not so black and I vehemently start shouting "Yes they are. You have no idea what I'm really talking about! You don't get me!") That's a hard place to be, because the last thing I want to start thinking about during an anxiety attack is that I'm also a crappy wife in addition to being a crappy mother.

When I'm beyond taking advice from my husband, I'm thrown back on my horrible ability to "self-soothe".  At this point, I've got to get really strict with myself. I start talking to myself in the third person and act like a personal trainer.

Step One: Rest. Take a break from the daily routine and focus on getting my anxiety injury healed.
Step Two: Be Gentle! The Devil likes to be harsh--pointing out all my fatal flaws and shortcomings. In response to him, I need to make sure that all my interior self-talk is extra gentle.
Step Three: Get an exercise buddy. I'll send out emails to some friends to ask for prayers to heal my anxiety.
Step Four: Resistance training. I've got to get out my affirmations. To counter-act all the negative self-talk, I've got to get some healthy positive self-talk. A therapist once talk me that all anxiety can be defeated with one of two tactics. Either I'm "over selling the likelihood of something terrible happening" or I'm under-estimating the possibility of my own ability to cope." So saying things like "I can't do this, but God can" or "whatever happens, God will take care of me" is very helpful.
Step Five: Patience. Some attacks are worse than other. Some take longer to heal.
Step Six: Know when to ask for professional help.  I really benefit from checking in with a professional therapist after my babies are born. For me, therapy isn't a thousand hours spent on the couch going over my childhood trust issues. I check in with a therapist on staff with my HMO. I do "cognative behavior therapy" --which is very focused, goal oriented stuff. After a few sessions, I feel better without meds and then I get to stop going to therapy. (In fact my most recent therapy appointment after getting worn down from Baby Abigail's colic lasted only 15 minutes. A new therapist confirmed that I didn't have post-partum depression. This secular therapist actually told me to a) not listen to my own mother, b) start praying the rosary and c) lean on my church friends for more help with childcare. Then she gave me her phone number to call in case I "started slipping." That kind of expert outside opinion (especially when it meshes so clearly with my own Carmelite spirituality) is so validating. I think my husband and I both felt better for my getting screened for anxiety and depression. I sort of compared it to getting a pro-active mammogram.

Know that I'll be praying for anyone who suffers from anxiety issue. An injured mama can still mother well! God heals all of our broken wings!

Memorial Day Weekend 2012

Camping with an nine week old newborn, it can be done!

Memorial Day Weekend 2012

Camping at Harper's Ferry, WV