Help a Future Sister With a Different Kind of "Bridal" Shower

Miss Amanda can join the Dominican Order to become a Religious Sister, IF she pays off $750 in student loan debt within the next 17 days. Please go to her website amandasvocation.wordpress.com and donate $1 or $5 or $10. Please! She's an orphan. She needs us, her church family. Her prayers will help you for the rest of her life!

(You can also leave her an encouraging note at her email address. The world needs more beautiful women going into religious life).

God Judges The Heart

There are so many times when I don't know what I'm doing.

Today I dragged the kids to Mass at St. Joseph's after our trip to the library. (They are next door to each other). They were not happy, but basically okay. Then right after the homily, Tess started running between the pews. Our church has this giant baptismal font--the one with the huge pool underneath a flowing fountain of holy water. I get that we're supposed to welcome the Baptist home by placing it at the entrance way, but it was an inviting wading pool to my toddler. Tess leaned farther and father inward to get holy water to bless herself. I had visions of her falling in completely.

Abigail had fallen asleep on my chest (a great rarity for Miss Chilipepper). I knew I needed to move to go after Tess, and I remember thinking "there is no way this is going to end well."

Of course, it didn't. Hannah held Abigail who started to wake up and demand to be fed. Tess started shrieking, then would go silent, then shriek again. I didn't want to abandon everyone by taking her out--besides in these old churches there really wasn't anywhere to go.

I didn't know if I should take all five kids out of church. Or if we should just brave the embarrassment and wait for Tess to settle down in three minutes.

Father Eric had specifically told me to keep the kids in Mass. My husband has asked me to keep the kids in Mass.

I told God, "I don't know if its more respectful to you to leave, but I'm just going to trust these dear men in my life and stay..."

Right then a quiet Tess started shrieking with joy. Her five year old Sister had noiselessly slid under three pews on her belly and was going for a fourth. Tess, understandably was eager to join her! "Get back here," I hissed. Then I sort of mentally rolled my eyes at a dear friend in heaven, Teresa Benedicta of the Cross (whose feast day I was celebrating) and prayed in a tone you'd use to an actual sister "You wanna help me out here?"

By the end of Mass, I wanted to flee. But I couldn't because there were library books strewn across the back pew. I waited in the Narthex while my older kids packed the books into the bookbag at an agonizingly slow pace.

"I could use a pick-me-up" I thought. There weren't any smiles coming from the early exiters. "Well, I'll just give out the smiles then." I stood with my two fussy babies and gave out a big smile and friendly greeting to everyone who left Mass.

When I take 5 kids to Daily Mass, I often feel exposed and incompetent. I don't know how to get my crew to sit neatly in a pew without help from my husband. Today, my toddler joyfully played in the Holy Water and my new First Communicant spent most of Mass play with Star Wars action figures that I forgot he had on hand.  It's not a pretty picture of reverence that we make at Daily Mass, but God judges the heart.

Sometimes I have to remind myself that its the "intention" that counts.

A One on One Duel

About two weeks ago, Jesus sent me to fencing classes. I thought I was going to get in shape post-pregnancy. Last week I finished my second 90 minute lecture on fencing--my instructor is one of those "detail" people who insist his beginner class understand umpire hand signals before holding a foil in their hands. In each class so far, I've don't less than five minutes of my beloved leg work (Advance, Advance, Retreat!).

In the middle of rolling my eyes in bored student agony, I started to ask Jesus "exactly why I'm here."

I'm there for  "warrior training."

(At which point, I'd like to whine that my Carmelite husband current God homework is to learn how to relax and be nourished by Beauty while holding a fishing pole--and boy would I really like that assignment. But a small voice in my heart responds that I've eaten far to many scones, and visited far too many Art Museums in my youth. Romance and I don't need to be introduced to each other--it's time for me become a warrior.)

Spiritual Fencing! That metaphor has been on my mind a lot. Here are two insights. "Love is patient, Love is kind" from St. Paul has also been described as a "shield of patience" and a "sword of kindness." I also think of this now as "advancing" or "retreating." During an annoying situation (isn't that what we mothers tend to swim in) I can "retreat" with patience. No matter how determined an attack on my soul is launched, if I move myself out of the way with patience, my opponent sword only finds empty air.

At the same time, kindness is sort of a challenging assertive action. You've got to really go after a person. This is opposite the sort of vague "tell us if you need anything" is wimpy charity. If you want to do something kind for a tired spouse and chronically unhappy teenager, or panicked NICU Mom, you need to commit yourself to a long lunge of effort.

The other thing I'm learning is to break down my bad days into one on one duels. The fencing "strip" is controlled warfare. You only face on opponent at a time, and there is a shin strip of floor where sword play is in bounds. Before I'd have a "bad day" and it was just a midst of chaos.

Now I try to break it apart into individual interactions. First, I have a challenging interaction with an extended family member, the I've got to wrestle with my feelings about our medical debt, then onto the "sympathy impaired" children's librarian. It helps to think "new opponent, new match" instead of letting my stressful experience snowball together.

Today I was in the middle of a long, hot errand run with five tired children. I started having strained communication with a new librarian. I told myself "I'm going to win this one". That was a little prayer that went right up to God in heaven. Five minutes later, we were shaking hands and trading first names. That was a successful match because I was totally exhausted, there was no one ounce of energy in me, and I was already deep in the hole between 10 overdue books and a screaming toddler to boot.

A warrior lives for battle.

Pray for us Teresa Benedicta of the Cross!

Our First Children's Choir--Sing of Mary

 

The Hardest Part About Mothering Is the Mental Thing

Baby Abigail is back on the "colic" thing. (It's really infant reflux, but I call it "colic" in my head and in public because it gets me more sympathy. Heartburn doesn't sound so bad unless its your  own newborn who is sobbing and twitching for 20 hours each day).

She was doing better on the new meds. Then we lost power for 11 days. Her medicine need to be refridgerated and honestly, things were so nutty I think I just forgot to give it to her for a few days. She cried for two weeks solid. Then she was perfect for Vacation Bible School (my girl is a social butterfly and there were lots of people to hold her and talk to her while I was teaching). She started sobbing on Sunday. Monday, I thought I was going to lose my mind.

I got her into the doctors today. We're working with a new dosage. Things are going to work out--either we'll figure out a medicine schedule that work, or the kid will outgrow this bad reflux thing shortly.

Here's the thing, the baby is not going to feel better overnight. Meanwhile, I have to figure out how to stay sane while my kid is crying for hours and hours every day.

I don't know how to do this. Her cries spark all kinds of negative thoughts in my head. "I'm a bad mother." "I should be able to stop this." "Why is this bad stuff always happening to me?"

It's so embarrassing to write this because I was a NICU Mom two years ago. With Teresa, we really were facing a life and death situation. With Abigail, it's just chronically annoying. Here's the thing, with Tess, I felt His grace. It was horrible. I feel apart. I was pushed as a Mom far beyond what I thought I could handle--but I felt his grace. There was no one day where I didn't feel multiple "pick-me-ups" from God.

This cross seems even harder. She's not sick enough to run to the ER. But she's not "well" either. She's just a irritated baby who can never seem to quite get down for a good nap, or nurse a good meal, or stay calm and happy alone in her swing.

I'm not hitting "bottom" like I did with Miss Teresa's "nosedives towards death." But I'm not "off" either. There's just this grey zone.

I'm so sick of grey. I'm so sick of perpetually being in a bad mood.

I'm going to try to stand closer to Jesus during the crying episodes. Pray for me to kick the bad mental thoughts habit.

'Tis the Gift to be Simple

The thing I like best about my walk with Christ is that more and more things became simple.

I had an epiphany in church today. So for years, I've had this giant "check list" of the acts of mercy. Everytime, I heard that "what you did for the least of them, you did for me" reading--I'd think "Oh man! I haven't visited anyone in prison lately!"

This was how ridiculous I was. I thought I had to go enter some prison ministry program, in order to get Jesus to like me.

Here's what I think now happens. Jesus writes those acts of mercy directly into our heart!

I might not get that many.

Here's the one that I did get in spades "I was a stranger and you welcomed me."

I'm on the church's welcoming committee. It doesn't matter that I don't have an official name tag. Everything that I do, hospitality, getting pregnant, greeting new priests and seminarians, teaching Vacation Bible School, smiling at new folks in church--that's my unique mission to "welcome strangers."

I have wasted so much time and energy trying to get other people onto my program. "Young kids should be in church", etc. Truly, it doesn't matter what anyone else does. In fact, they might not have that same grace to  drag their often screaming two year old into Daily Mass. But I can smile at strangers--if they are toddlers or 94 year old men.

So here is what happened today. I knelt down in the back of church with 15 kids ready to launch our first ever children's choir, when a Dad with a screaming toddler tried to climb over me on the way out of the door. He collided with a microphone, which I so felt in my heart. (I've so often been there and done that).

After the song, I had my eye on the little girl. She was being two and refusing to sit in the pew. Instead, she played hopscotch in the aisle. I looked down the line and realized their was no Mom. Then I really felt bad. (My kids often act up in church and the only thing that gets me through is winks from my husband. Solo parents in church have it so much harder).

Something in my heart told me to help. I asked my friend if she had a pen. Then I scooped up Baby Abigail, jumped up some pews, knelt down in the aisle, and started smiling at the little girl. I intended to hand the girl a pen and some paper because I often keep my two old daughter silent and still while drawing. This two year old just stared at me. We were strangers. It's in the middle of Mass, so I can't talk to her. I took out the pen and started drawing for her. She looked at me like she's never held a pen before. (Which is probably true, since normal people don't let 2 year olds draw in pen and ink). So I drew a woman and some rainbows.

Then the little girl said "What's that?" pointing to Baby Abigail.

"That's my baby," I answered. We talked about the smiling baby for a while. I pointed to Jesus in the manger next to her and said "See baby--baby!" We had a nice moment. Then the Consecration was done. I figured the super important quiet part of Mass was finished, so I went back to my seat.

The entire time I was kneeling there, talking to the little girl, I had this voice in my head "This isn't how we do this!" I wasn't supposed to get out of my seat, kneel on the floor and help entertain a strangers child. I was supposed to sit in my pew and sent a few indulging smiles. At the same time I thought, "Wow this is so easy! I wish someone had done this for us." Instead of massive lectures about the appropriate behavior expected at Mass, I wish a more experienced, kind parent had come up and drawn some stick figures on a piece of scrap paper for my kid --in the moment that I was having trouble. No judgement, just help--welcoming the stranger to Mass that was my little puddle of 2 year old energy.

After Mass, I went up to cute toddler's father and introduced myself. We started talking and in the crazy way of Jesus-one second we're talking about the coincidence that this toddler shares the same name that the baby getting baptized --and then I find out that this toddler isn't baptized and this is the Dad's second time back at Mass in over 10 years!

The man needed a welcome!

It is so beautiful to realize that Church is not abstract. It's not "oh the Church welcomes sheep back into the fold." But a specific act--Mommy Mary will send her daughter Abigail to personally greet a Father trying to bring a wiggly toddler to Mass for the second time.

I don't know if this Father will come back.

I do know, that he's a heck of a lot more likely to come back after his little girl had a rockin' time hanging out with my four daughters in the back of a church pew and after I took the time to learn his name and assure him of my prayers.

My name is Abigail Benjamin. I am door greeter for the Catholic Church.

Why I Love Having a Big Family.... Instant Parties!

 

Rosary Camp

 

It's All About Her....

 

Rosary Idea (Made out of Pool "noodles")

 

St Teresa of Avila--Foundations

Did you know that as a Catholic Mom or Dad, you are engaged in building a "foundation?" Your family is domestic church for God. Some of my readers were blessed to grow up in a loving Catholic family and feel well-equipt to enter into the vocation of marriage. However, I suspect that many readers feel totally 'unequipt" and are "learning on the fly."

Home-schooling. Raising teenagers. Running your first marathon. Starting a new Food Pantry in your parish--God has something for you to accomplish in His Will that you feel totally inept at doing.

Enter my bff St Teresa of Avila.

She teaches us that God can do great things with His followers who clueless, flaky,  ill-equipt, impatient, sick, and poor. The Foundations of her "innovative" reform convents were not a result of some together Saint with a clear master plan--but a result of someone kept her eyes constantly on Christ and did many foolish things in his name.

St Teresa's  "Book of Foundations" is underappreciated. Yet this is a gem of a book. I felt like I really got to connect with the "lady behind the myth." I was stunned at how much I could relate to her struggles and challenges. Before going into "The Interior Castle", try to connect with the frail, human who is Teresa.

Here's is an excerpt from Friar Mark Foley, OCDS (so crazy that I know him now)

" The Book of Her Foundations is the least read, the least quoted, the least known of St. Teresa's works. Why this is so is probably because people do not think it is a spiritual book. But as you read on, you find that St. Teresa grew in holiness, not in spite of obstacles such as being entangled in lawsuits, mired down in disputes over dowries, tied up in interminable bureaucratic red-tape, and having to deal with unscrupulous businessmen, but because of these difficulties. None of these challenges impeded her spiritual growth. This study guide will help us to see how Teresa grew in holiness in the marketplace as much as in the cloister, perhaps even more so. None of us has been called to found convents, but like Teresa all of us are called to practice virtue and grow in holiness within the fray of daily life."



Can't recommend this book strongly enough. You can buy it on the Nook and Kindle Fire.

I Am What I Am..... (Popeye)

My husband Jon (a man so knowledgeable as Father of four daughters) has a new saying 'the curly hair girls want their hair to be straight, and the straight hair girls want their hair to be curly!"

I have spent so much of my life wishing to be something I'm not.

I learned this week at Vacation Bible School that I am a "starter". I'm someone who does "Foundations" like my bff St. Teresa of Avila. I'm a "visionary leader."

I hate this!

I want to be a little "follower". Or if I have to have the discomfort of being in charge, I want to be the calm, efficient "administrative" leader, the one who is has all the support systems running smoothly in place.

Beginnings are hard! Beginnings are messy! No likes you. Every is a critic. You work your finger to the bone and there is next to nothing to show for it.

What is a foundation--a giant, empty hole in the ground! Or maybe if your lucky a drab slab of concrete!

The fun part of the house is the frame--the drywall- the interior decorating!

But God gave me a special talent--I'm a girl who starts things from scratch. He gave me the grace to start a Vacation Bible School in a parish that not only didn't ever have a Vacation Bible School before in its 27 years of existence, but for the past 20 to 25 years --didn't even have KIDS IN THE PARISH. (We're a mission parish that consisted mostly of retired people. God has a great sense of humor and put 5 super, large homeschooling families there. Then He moved me there!)

Now there are many other "started ideas" I have floating around my heart.

I spent my Saturday brunch* today telling my husband--"but I don't want to be the leader! Why can't one of the other ladies be in charge?"

My husband kept telling me--but "you're the Carmelite!" (Which I think loosely translates to "you have the most access to grace so you have to have the hardest job").

So here I am, age 37. Trying to finally make peace with the messy, unruly texture that is my hair. Trying to make peace with my unruly, messy, creative leadership style and the fact that I will never, ever have a safe, boring, established job in my church.

I'm the Fool. I'm the Mystic. I'm the girl that sees a large future building rising from an empty field currently covered with cow patties.

Thank heavens, He's a good friend in my heart because Man--it is lonely out here. Being a Carmelite means that I live in a desert!




*(By the way, thank you Little Jo Ann for sending us delicious, organic Applegate bacon to eat for this all important post VBS brunch. I didn't like anything I was hearing from either Mr. Jesus or Mr. Benjamin--but at least my tongue got to delight in delicious tastes).

The Power of a Hail Mary

My hometown Catholic girl, Katie Ledecky just won a gold medal!

Be My Pinrest

Gotta throw a quick pro-life baby shower for a former NICU premie this Sunday. I'm already exhausted from VBS, so ideas need to be pretty, quick and easy. All the shower games etc I know are about a baby that's coming, not celebrating one who is already here. Do you guys have ideas for how to host a baby shower?

You Can Not Steal My Joy

"You can not steal my joy!"

I said that out loud to someone today. Right in front of the tabernacle (in church). Right in front of everybody.

I was working hard at a task for God. It was hard. It was an uphill battle. After a massive effort, I'd started to see the tiniest crocus blossom of promise from a few of my students.

As I walked out the doors of church, some one rushed towards the group with negativity.

I said "You can not steal my joy!" She was stunned. I was stunned. I kept going "I know what the kids accomplished today. They did a great job. This is going to work out. We've got to start somewhere and this is a great beginning."

Then I kept on walking.

And I stayed silent.

Three times later someone came up to me and said "I didn't mean to steal your joy, you can't say that to me..." but I didn't talk about it!

My whole life I have been battling this thing--that I didn't know what it was called until my husband read about it in Imitation of Christ last week. There are people out their who hate your peace with God. There are people who will try to rush at you and attack you for having it. There are people who will call you "foolish" and stupid and dumb to the bone.

Beginnings are fragile. Beginnings are precious. Foundations are hard. You need to put up a firm fence around your beginning garden of tasks for God, and not let the opinions of others stop your efforts before they've even begun to bear fruit.

I have no idea if the dream I have in my heart for my poor parish to have a children's choir is going to come into fruition. I do know that if the Holy Spirit says teach 24 kids in our Vacation Bible School who have no musical background how to sing a Marian hymn in time for Sunday Mass, I will try to do it--even if I look like a fool. Even if the final result is 4 minutes of silent, off-key mush.

It is okay to fail in front of God, Jesus and everybody.

A bigger failure is to be afraid to try something new to bring more Glory to the Kingdom of God.

Breaking the Fast With Style

Exactly at the same moment that I parked my car after the "breaking the nine day grocery fast" Wal-mart trip, a UPS truck pulls in behind me with this special emergency food package from Little Jo Ann. What perfect timing! God basically split the difference. Abigail had to learn how to go nine days without grocery shopping and Little Jo Ann got to share her beautiful hospitality the moment the Benjamin family fast was over.

In a totally random "coincidence", the UPS guy stops his truck for a chat after delivering my package. (I've seen this guy often over the past year and he's never once stopped to talk). "How do you do it with five kids?" he said.

I gave the usual "Oh, I've got my hands full alright" speech and then for some reason I added "and all five of them were c-sections"--which I never, ever mention.

Turns out the UPS guy has four! His wife has all c-sections also. He's got one set of twins, so he was amazed that we were up to five without any twins. I just laughed and said that with 1 1/2 year old twins, they were already broken in so they might as well keep going!

Couldn't believe I got a little pro-life witnessing at the delivery of Little Jo Ann's package.  A perfect "extra" touch for the hidden mother of seven!

A very special box came today.....

 

Thank you Little Jo Ann!

 

We also received $5 from an anonymous donor with neat handwriting from Virginia. Thank you! I used that to buy extra eggs and milk this week.

If anyone else sent packages, never fear. I'm telling you, God held up the post office just so we could get through this "Foolishly Spent the Grocery Money Now What" prayer experiment. 

 

Our Lady of the Rosary Battle circa Oct 7, 1571