A Prescription for True Joy

They are happy who dwell in your house,
for ever singing your praise.
They are happy, whose strength is in you,
in whose hearts are the road to Zion.

-Psalm 84, Longing for God's Temple
Today's Morning Prayer

(Can I just say sheepishly, I can't believe I ever complained that I "never get anything out of the dusty Psalms" when I started out as a Carmelite. When I pray them now, its poetry that is clear and seems so relevant to whatever is going on in my life.  If you're struggling with praying the Liturgy of the Hours, keep going. It's like Tennis. It gets easier and so much more fun with a little practice.)

A New Christmas CD- The Benedictines of Mary "Advent at Ephesus" EPK

Angela Faddis Funeral Homily by Fr John Parks

On All Souls Day, this is a powerful homily offered earlier this fall for a 32 year old mother who died of cancer. Life for all of us is too short. Our Faith matters. Prayers always help!

Our Need to Bury the Dead

All Souls Day is a day that we pray for the dead-- a spiritual act of mercy.

I'm also concerned about a vanishing tradition of the corporal act of mercy--burying the dead. 

Did you guys watch the Sheen movie "St. Jame's Way?" It's about a Catholic Father coming to terms with the tragic death of his only son by hiking the traditional pilgrimage path in the Spanish Mountains. All during this movie, I'm gasping because the Father takes the ashes of his son and "scatters" them on the path.

This is not Catholic.

Catholics allow for cremation, however, the ashes of a body are holy and worthy of respect. They are supposed to be buried in the same dignity as a body. That means in the ground, or in one of those special vaults at a cemetery.  

Yet we are surrounded by a culture of paganism. The worse practice in Ancient Greece was to destroy the body of an enemy and "scatter the ashes to the wind." Now, we are in a place where taking a beloved grandfather, parent or child and "scattering their ashes" is seen as a good thing.

In the alternative, some grieving parents and children hold onto a loved one's ashes until they find the "perfect" burial spot. They can't bury their child right now because they will be moving soon, or can't afford a nice enough spot, or just aren't ready to drop a loved one in the cold hard ground and walk away. Those people have dead that remain unburied.

I truly get that death "sucks." It is not easy to leave someone you love in the ground. 

God's ways, however, are not our ways. God's ways are supernatural, because they are hard, but also because they are "healing." My husband and I have experience the healing that came from burying our son and burying his father.

In our culture, it's become hip to say "anything goes." "Oh you're grieving man, whatever brings you comfort." The Church, however, is our trusted Mother. She knows best. She urges us to do better.

Today, if there is someone that you love who still has the ashes of a dead loved one in their home, or who has plans to "scatter her ashes on Mount Kilimanjaro", pray for her. Then love her enough to tell her the truth.

Tobit, pray for us!

Reference: Catechism of the Catholic Church 2300- "The bodies of the dead must be treated with respect and charity, in faith and hope of the Resurrection. The burial of the dead is a corporal work of mercy; it honors the children of God, who are temples of the Holy Spirit.

2301-The Church permits cremation, provided that it does not demonstrate a denial of faith in the resurrection of the body.

All Souls Day

Did you know Catholics are some of the only Christians who pray for the dead?

When I was a Methodist, I'd go to funerals and the minister would lead us in prayers for the family--- there was never any mention of praying for the soul of deceased. We assumed that he or she was already rejoicing in Heaven. (The concept of Purgatory doesn't really exist in United Methodist Circles). I don't think my Protestant upbringing was unusual in this regard.

So that means on All Souls Day, we have Catholics have an extra duty to pray for the dead! Today, if you visit a church you have a chance for a Plenary Indulgence. There are also special indulgences attached to visiting a cemetery from Nov 1 to Nov 8.

Do a bunch, and then hit Confession this Saturday. Take your kids!

Happy All Saints Day

I believe the right Saints "find" you, and your are blessed forever by their affectionate, and personal friendship. Just a smattering of my good Saint friends.

Mary, the Mother of God             Crispian                                      John Paul II
Teresa of Avila                            Elizabeth of the Trinity                Mother Teresa
the Little Flower                          Louise and Zele Martin                Jesuit Martyrs of North Amer.
John of the Cross                        Francis of Assisi                           Uganda Martyrs
John of God                               Clare of Assisi                               Mother Cabrini
Luke                                          Elizabeth Ann Seton                      Bonaventure
Peter                                         Kateri Tekakwitha                         Anthony of Padua
Paul                                          Jude                                             Mary Magdalene
Gerard                                       King Louis of France                     Elizabeth of Hungary

Hope some of my bff friends find their way into your heart too this year!

Happy Halloween

Tonight we party! Tomorrow we go to Mass! See at the All Saints Day Service--mandatory church day for Catholics!

(Costumes: Ice Cream Cone, Butterfly Princess, Ninja, Pink Spider Girl and Toddler who refused to wear anything)

A Married Woman's Fight Against Pornography In Society

Last Sunday, the Catholic Daughter's handed out white ribbons at our parish to remind us to pray for an end to pornography. I recently moved to a small city in West Virginia. The Mountaineer State has defined "always free" to mean that no zoning laws should exist in town. That means an Adult Book Store sits happily on Main Street. How I hate that bookstore!

When the White Ribbon campaign was announced, I had a clear image of my activism. I was going to sit outside the bookstore, with my five kids, and have some kind of vivid sign saying "Pornography Hurts Women, Pray For It To Leave Main Street." I was going to pass out white ribbons and pray the rosary. I even pictured myself going in there--St. John Vianney style and telling the bookstore owners, "So what are your true job goals, because I'm praying for you to get out-of-here fast!" (Didn't St. J. V. help the tavern owners land on their feet after he shut them down in his town?)

So when I ran into a fellow Catholic Daughter passing out White Ribbons at my tiny mission church on Sunday, I first felt guilt. All of those big plans came to naught. It was already White Ribbon day and I hadn't even signed up to pass out ribbons to my own church!

Yet God is really good! He's constantly reminding me that rather than becoming a grand social agent outside my home, His wants me to become an even more effective agent of change inside my home.

So here is my challenge to all you precious married women readers of my blog. Our husbands love us, and they love our bodies. Men have a gift to truly see the "embodied soul" in their wives. A loving husband's gaze on his wife is truly the antidote to sinful, lustful, pornography in our culture. It's a gaze that heals.

I didn't know until I started sobbing because I now have two c-section scars instead of one--that child birth really changes my perception of my body. I think that after 5 kids, I'd get "over it." But it's still there. Miscarriage makes you hate/fear your body. Infertility does too.

We need our husbands to love us. We need to be vulnerable and let God heal that "body issue" wound in us.

So that is my challenge. Husbands, Be the gaze that heals. Wives, Let yourselves be seen and loved.

There 's a Song of Songs relationship waiting for each of us, on earth and in heaven.

Prayer Request

Thank you for your kind prayers. My family did great during the storm. We lost power. The fireplace, candles and, a new Monopoly Game kept everyone calm for the night.

We have a relative who is in a precarious situation in New Jersey. My husband's uncle Bob was are only Catholic relative for a while and hence is my daughter Mimi's Godfather. He defied an evacuation order, and is now on a barrier island that is completely submerged by ocean water. At the last update he and his wife were staying on the second floor of their home with some neighbors, refusing to leave with the National Guard.

St. John of the Cross, please pray for him. Pray for all men caught in the storm to have great recourse to God's counsel.

Signing Off

Looks like we might be losing our power and electric during a serious storm this weekend.

On the Importance of Welcoming The Stranger

(for Joanne)

I read these paragraphs and they made me catch my breathe in recognition. I've felt such similar feelings, only mine exclusion happened in the public school cafeteria at age 14 when I moved from the Big City to a small town in Central West Virginia. Joanne, everyone in the town he is describing is Catholic--probably most of them received the Eucharist each and every Sunday. God Bless the Stranger. I'm making my life's work to extend this corporal act of Mercy.

From Garrison Keillor, Creator of Lake Wobegon

(talking about his real life experiences moving to a small town in Central Minnesota to "live cheaply" while pursuing his writing career)

"Nobody ever welcomed us to town when we came in 1970. No minister visited to encourage us to worship on Sunday, no neighbor dropped in with a plate of brownies. Several times, I stopped at neighboring farms to say hello and announce our presence, and was met by the farmer, and we spent an uncomfortable few minutes standing beside my car, making small talk about the weather, studying the ground, me waiting to be invited into the house, him waiting for me to go away, until finally I went away. In town, the shopkeepers and the man at the garage were cordial, of course, but it I said hello to someone on the street, he looked at the sidewalk and passed in silence. I lived south of Freeport for three years and never managed to have a conversation with anyone in the town. I didn't have long hair, or a beard, didn't dress oddly or do wild things, and it troubled me. I felt like a criminal....

As I sat in the Pioneer Inn and recalled the years I spent in Stearns County, it dawned on me were Lake Wobegon had come from. All those omniscient-narrator stories about small town people came from a guy sitting alone at the end of a bar, drinking a beer, who didn't know anything about anything going on around him. Stories about prodigals welcomed home, outcasts brought into a circle, rebels forgiven: all from the guy at the end of the bar nursing a beer in silence. In three years only one man ever walked fifteen feet to find out who I was--he walked over and said "You live out there on the Hoppe place, don't you?" I said that yes, I did and he nodded satisfied that now he had me properly placed, and turned without another word and moseyed back to the herd. There was nothing more to say. He had no further curiosity about me, where I came from, or what I did out at Hoppe farm, or if he did, he felt that a conversation with me might lead to expectations on my part, might lead to my dropping in at his place for more conversation, perhaps asking to borrow his pickup or inviting him and his family to dinner, a whole unnecessary entanglement. So he walked away. It kind of broke my heart a little.

I'd been away from country people for a while and was under the illusion that they're hospitable and outgoing, and they're not. It's not that they're bad people. They are good Christian people, the soul of kindness. There is a hand-woven net of kindness in all of those little towns and people looking out for other people, visiting the sick, caring for the sick child so mom can go to work, inviting the widowed for supper, bringing food to the elderly, giving rides, driving old fold to Florida in January and flying down to drive them back home in April, coaching the teams and helping out at church and with Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts and 4-H, daily acts of kindness. Everyone is generous to those in need, except to those in need of conversation, especially if you're not from here.

So I invented a town with a bar in which, if a stranger enters, he always turns out to have an interesting story. The stories were my way of walking fifteen feet and joining the circle. I had to invent a town in order to be accepted, like the imaginary friend I had in second grade, David, who walked to school with me.

The longer nursing his beer at the end of the bar is starved for company. He has little to say to his wife, who is depressed and has little to say to him. In the long shadows of a cold winter night, anxious about money, in dire need of society, he drives five miles to town and sits at the bar, where his pride and social ineptitude get in the way: he has no idea how to traverse those fifteen feet without feeling like a beggar. He can overhear the talk and it's about farming, of course, and hunting and trucks, and he has nothing to offer here. He goes back home to his typewritter and invents characters who look like the guys in the bar, but how talk about all sorts of things that he knows about, and soon he has replaced the entire town of Freeport with an invented town of which he is the mayor, the fire chief, the priest, the physician, and the Creator Himself, and he gets a radio show and through perseverance and dumb luck and a certain facility, the fictional town becomes more famous than the real town, and now when he goes to Freeport, some people come up and say "You're Garrison Keillor, aren't you?" A person could write a novel about this."

(Keillor, In Search of Lake Wobegon, pg 21-22_

The Loneliness of Leadership

(for Thomas, who asked me to write more about this subject)

All men enjoy being a leaders when things are good. When there is plenty of money, plenty of time, and plenty of good natured agreement from your wife. Imagine coming home with an unexpected bonus from work, "Hey Honey, you know that return trip to Aruba you've dreamt about since our honeymoon--we're going!"

Similarly, there's the easiness about the less dramatic decisions about family life. Is it Lavender Twill or Big Montana Sky Blue the right color for the living room of the new house? Your spiritual leadership role is clear and easy in this scenario, too.

a) its stupid to put up a color you both hate
b) you have plenty of time to discuss the matter and reach a mutual decision
c) a bucket of paint costs $28, not a huge investment if the final decision ends up being wrong.

When people tell you "That spiritual head of the family is stupid, outdated stuff, we have an equalitarian marriage..." don't believe them. If you choose your spouse well, (and I'd like to add have the benefit of grace from a sacramental marriage) 90% of the stuff in married life is "easy decision making." Either both spouses agree, or one cares and the other doesn't, or someone's in such a jolly mood they cheerfully give up their way.

Spiritual Leadership is about the husband stepping up to direct the other more messy 0.001% to 10% of married life.

There are some hard decisions in married life that have to made quickly--there is not enough time, there is not enough money, and there is no clear agreement between two people who however in love--remain different individuals with different tastes and preferences.

In those decisions, the husband takes the lead.

He doesn't get to make the decisions because he's better than his wife. He makes the decisions because someone has to do it--life is miserable if a husband and wife have to stop and debate the smallest minutiae of life--and the husband gets to do it because he is the servent of his wife and his children, and the Holy Spirit gives him some kind of special insight into God's Will "on the big stuff."

It's easy to do that when your wife gracefully acquiesces to your leadership.

But sometimes, a husband is urged to make a decision that no on in his family (his wife or his kids) likes. That is the "loneliness" of leadership. As a wife, (who often sports a disrespectful "Nobody is going to tell me what to do" attitude towards her loving husband) I want to encourage you to embrace the loneliness. If there is a decision that is important, that you've prayed about, that you are doing out of loving concern for your wife and your future kids, don't automatically default to the thought "this must be the wrong decision if she doesn't agree 100% with me..."

If you make a small step out to Him in faith He will bless you. You are like our Father Abraham, talking to God in your heart, as you bravely journey with your family, into a new land. You are St. Joseph protecting the family by fleeing to Egypt.  The uncertain is scary, but as a husband, you are uniquely equipt to lead your family out of danger and into safety. (There is a reason why you love to watch Action Films and Sci-Fi Adventure-it addresses that uniquely male question "What would I do if this happened....")

Here is a small sample list of things that I've only later agreed with my husband on:

Example One:
Jon made some sort of promise to God at our daughter's baptism never to miss another Sunday Mass. It's such a deep promise, he doesn't even tell me about it. Three months later we're going camping with our friends. As a new Catholic convert, I'm still on my old Methodist rule that it is perfectly okay to church for sickness or travel. We have this discussion in public with our friends, while me and two other people tell Jon he's being a stickler for wanting to go to Mass on Sunday.

My husband decides to drive 4 hours round trip to go to a 7 PM Mass in the capital city in our state, just so he fulfills his spiritual obligation to God. At the time, I thought he was dumb. I most likely even groused about getting left extra hours alone with our baby. The fact that he drove so far to go to a Sunday Mass, stunned me. It really spoke to my soul. I didn't change overnight, but I did start taking my obligation to go to Mass much more seriously.

(It was months and month later, that we discovered that missing Mass was a mortal sin. We had to go to confession for it.)

Jon was right. His leadership on an issue I thought was "unimportant" changed my life. I am a Capital "C" Catholic because I watched him drive so far to attend Mass that day. (As long as I kept making mortal sins, I couldn't get the full grace from God to change my life around and start growing into the person He wants me to be).

Example Two:
Winter is coming. As a new homeowner, my husband had this dream of getting our propone fireplace converted to burn wood. He's married to a timid girl who once had the misfortune of attending a Tort Law class. Last year --under the democratic decision making process model--I flatly vetoed Jon's dream.

I'd read somewhere that you shouldn't mess with a fireplace without a licensed professional. An entire year passed while we were waiting to save up the fireplace renovation fee. We had a baby instead-- no dice. This Fall we were no closer to our goal.

Then my husband said "I think I can do it. Let me give it a try." Totally begrudgingly I let the matter go. I said "Ummm, we'll see" without any enthusiasm. I totally expected the measure to fail. To my shock, the husband I would have formerly dubbed "unhandy" fixed our fireplace. It burns wood! The kids were overjoyed. I think the quote of the night was "Mimi, get off the computer and come downstairs, the fire is on!"

Can I tell you how warm, delicious, and sexy it is to have a wood burning fireplace in my living room? I was 100% against the decision to even let Jon "try" to fix our fireplace. Now he's got my enthusiastic support--so much that I'm telling him "a blizzard is coming, better take some of our savings out to buy a cord of wood this weekend!"

To get to this stage, my husband both times, had to risk my displeasure. Sometimes it's an unenthusiastic "well, if you insist..", sometimes it's a frown, sometimes its actually (as in the real life case of me coming down with kidney stones and refusing to bother the ER doctors with some of my quote "stupid" PMS pains) my husband stands strong in the face of such opposition as when I start screaming "WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE to order me around? I told you this is no big deal! Leave me alone!"*

Yet my husband risks the loneliness of leadership-because he's acting out of love. He knows in his gut that he's got a divine connection to the Holy Spirit, and he can make the hard, unpopular decision because he's acting in the best interest of his family. God doesn't just issue you a wife--he entrusts you with a precious treasure. The more you act with courage to protect and safe guard your wife, the more she is going to trust your leadership, in the few times that you disagree on your joint journey to heaven.

Prayer is the fast-track to spiritual leadership.

Many prayers and best wishes to Thomas and all the Holy Christian Couples out there. We are all fighting the good fight!

If "the World cannot hate you...." you are in trouble!

Meditation today--Luke 7:7

"The world cannot hate you, but it hates me because I testify against it that its works are evil."

Scorn, ridicule, hatred. I am not comfortable with those parts of the Catholic journey. If it were up to me, everyone in my life would join hand and sing Kumbaya. (Can't we all be friends, is the seventh grade plea of my heart!)

"The world cannot hate you."

When I am consumed by the world--when I'm frivolous, overly intellectual, or inattentive to my vocation--the world cannot hate me.

I confess, it still feels good to be "not hated." I like the fake safety of having lots of false friends' cellphone numbers in my address book. (What was that Wicked Song about "Popular"--I want to be Popular?")

Yet Jesus isn't content to let be bask in the false security of "Everybody knows her name" (and my coda "and thinks she's a nice girl, too!) He wants me to become HIS friend, first. His friendship starts to dramatically turn my life inside "right." My new self "testifies to the world that its works are evil."

Often times, I don't even have to say a thing. Showing up with five little kids in a grocery store line is a testimony, but so is a pure smile to my husband after church, a brown scapular messily sticking out of my sweater, or walking my dog kindly around the block on his leash, rather than sticking him in a fenced in yard all day. Those silent, hidden actions of a Catholic heart are enough to inspire spitting hatred in my non-Christian block.

Contrary to my programing, scorn from my community is not a sign I'm doing things wrong, its a sign I'm doing things right!

My Dear Jesus, lend me your courage today!

Henry V - Catherine and Henry scene 1/2

St. Crispin's Day and Shakespeare

Enjoy this incredible post about the real life story behind one of my favorite cinema moments! (Kenneth Branagh in Henry V's Eve of St. Crispin's Day Speech).

(Note: It's funny to think this about a war play, but it contains one of my favorite romantic lines ever

thou
hast me, if thou hast me, at the worst; and thoushalt wear me, if thou wear me, better and better:"
Act 5, Scene II. I just love the "thou shalt wear me better and better" as one of the truest expressions of the grace of Marriage)

Advice I Want to Share With My Girls About How to Choose a Mate

This is a real life story of a first date from a long-married farm couple

Archie Lieberman's Neighbors: A Forty-Year Portrait of an American Farm Community, Bill, Sr and Mildred

Mildred (on the story of how she met her husband in 1938): "Bill was about eighteen. I was sixteen. He was with another boy in Scales Mound. It was  Sunday noon, and maybe they were playing pool. This boy had a date with me that night, but he didn't have a car. This boy wanted Bill, who had a car, to bring him to see me. They called up and wanted to know if I could get a date for Bill. I got a girl for Bill and I went with my date, and we went to a show in Sullsburg. It was wintertime, and a real snowy night. Bill was driving, and we took his date home fist, because she lived closer to town than I did. Then, going to my home, we had to go up a steep hill called White's Hill, and we couldn't make it up. Bill had to get ou and put chains on. He was whistling and work, and this guy I was with was doing nothing but grumbling and grunting, and I just decided right then and there, that I liked whistling better than groaning and that I liked Bill a lot better than the guy I was dating.

pg 47.

I really loved that story. Something similar happened to Jon and me on our first date skiing in snowy Madison, involving a flapping edge of his cloth Jeep cover that he had to keep getting off the highway to re-duct tape together. There was something so relaxed and unnaturally cheerful about him.

New Thoughts on the Familiar Story of Zacchaeus

My little five year old came home talking about Zacchaeus and his big tree after Sunday School this week. I took sometime to reread it in Luke on Monday. Wow! Is this a powerful story about prayer.

Luke 19:1-10

"He entered Jericho and was passing through it. A man was there named Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was rich. He was trying to see who Jesus was, but on account of the crowd he could not, because he was short in stature. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycomore tree to see him, because he was going past that way. When Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said to him, "Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today." So he hurried down and was happy to welcome him. All who saw it began to grumble and said, "He has gone to be the guest of one who is a sinner." Zacchaeus stood there and said to the Lord, "Look, half of my possessions, Lor, I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much." Then Jesus said to him, "Today salvation has come to this house, because he too is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost."

Some brief thoughts I had during my prayer of Lectio Divinio (a fancy Carmelite way of saying praying the Bible very slowly and asking God for help in applying it to your life).

--Jesus was just "passing through" town. He actually changes his plans after he sees Zacchaeus' actions

--Imagine Zacchaeus for a moment. He's rich. He's in fine clothes. He's got a dignity and stature about him. Yet he climbs up a tree! A childish action if there ever was one. He doesn't worry about getting his nice clothes dirty. He doesn't worry about people making fun of him. He impulsively climbs up a tree simply to "get a glimpse of Jesus!"

--Jesus rewards this "foolish, childlike action" with a dinner invitation

--Zacchaeus "hurries down" and is "happy to welcome him." (That's how Jesus wants us to respond to his invitations)

--people around him start to complain. They are jealous. They wanted Jesus to come to their house to dine. They complain that Zacchaeus is unworthy to have such a great guest in his house. (He's a sinner!)

--Yet, notice that Zacchaeus is no longer a sinner. Zacchaeus is instantly converted. "I will give half my possessions to the poor.."

-Jesus then rebukes the grumbling townfolk. He gives the unpopular Zacchaeus back his human dignity. He asserts "this is my true mission--" "For the Son of Man came to seek out and save the lost."

Wow!  A gold mine of stuff for contemplation.

Prayer: Lord, help me foolishly climb tall trees in order to see you better!

*******
Also, it reasserts my belief that Young Children should spend time hearing the actual word of God.  Try out the New Revised Standard Version--it's highly accurate, written in plain English and retains so many beautiful images. Children's Bibles and stories are great for pictures of "add ons"--but truly the actual passage in Luke is so vivid. I don't the water down picture book my daughter read in Sunday School contained nearly the power of this accurate translation of Luke's original words.

Our Need for Holy Recreation

I'm learning a lot from this challenging newborn of mine. (We're currently in month six of "whatever you call it"--colic, infant reflux, hyper sensitivity, dragging her Mama to heaven one scream at a time.)

I figured out a clear difference between "Me Time" and "Recreation."

Me Time is selfish. It was NOT working. Me Time was when I either threw the tense, crying baby at my husband the second he came into the door after work and announced "I'm off duty now!"--or when my husband found me sobbing after another failed breastfeeding session would say "Why don't you go to the coffee shop for a break..."

That sounds great in theory, but it didn't work out in practice.  I'd go to our only local coffee shop --which does NOT sell good coffee (only burnt) and overpriced stale baked goods, and spend money we didn't have, eat stuff that tastes worse than I could make at home, I'd read bad Nora Roberts romance books for an hour and then come home still a mess. I'd walk in, the baby would see me and start crying for milk, my insides would get into a ball of acid and I'd think "When can I get another break from my life again..."

In my head, Me Time is something I grab as my "right" when I'm feeling overwhelmed and ungrateful about my life.

Contrast that with "recreation."

Recreation demands foresight. Recreation is intensely individual. Recreation is a gift of play given to us by God.

Recreation demands sacrifice from the whole family. It feels uncomfortable on the front end. For example, I often grab a $3 Nice Chocolate Bar while shopping at Target without thinking about it because "It's been a hard day and I deserve a treat." That was a totally different experience from my husband saying I think you should spend $125 (which is a week's worth of groceries for my family) to go to fencing lessons." It felt really hard and weird to quote "take" that money from my family for my lessons--and the only reason I could do it was because I'd urged my husband to buy a fishing license and new pole two weeks before. (Not to mention the fear I had getting into a car leaving a young baby who won't take a bottle yet, while I spent an hour in a gym in another town).

Yet my individual fencing lessons blessed my family beyond measure.  My husband and I now have plans to fence competitively when we're 70! (Can you imagine a sport that starts out at age 9 and yet also has an over age 70 division?) Similarly, his early morning fishing trips make him so relaxed and happy. He's taken our family out on picnics to beautiful local fishing spots and caught fish with our kids.

Recreation is holy. It is time alone that restores you. It blesses your family. It sets up a good role model to your children and your spouse. Recreation is a fancy name for "recess". It makes you feel like a kid again.

When you feel like a kid, you can pray better. When you pray better, you love better.

What are your holy recreation choices?

Here are mine: Fencing practice, playing tennis with my husband (perfect toddler friendly activity b/c you can shut the gate and let the toddler run around while you work up a sweat), running around the block at 6 AM when everyone is still asleep in bed, talking Fall walks with my husband while pushing two sleepy babies in a stroller, dancing in the living room while listening to Pandora, knitting

Here are things I want to add: playing bridge with friends, writing snail mail letters, singing hymns, starting a church choir

On Joining the Girl Scouts

As I grow as a Carmelite, I'm learning how to trust my heart above my head. I'm learning how to be flexible inside God's Will rather than sticking to more comfortable black and white way of thinking like the Pharisees. It's an uncomfortable transition, but one with great benefits. This is a story of one transition.

Five years ago, when my oldest daughter was in pre-school, I wanted her to join the Girl Scouts. My plans kept coming to dead ends. After I started reading Catholic blogs, I found out a lot of stuff about the Girl Scouts ties to Planned Parenthood that I hated. "Well, God must not want my girls in the Girl Scouts..." I thought. I wore my non-participation as a badge of honor. I boycotted Girl Scout Cookie sales. When at last a troop was formed down the block from our City Apartment, Hannah and I wore the sacrifice of not belonging. "Oh we can't do Girl Scouts, we're Roman Catholics..." we said.

Last year we moved to a small city in West Virginia. My son joined the Boy Scouts. My two oldest daughters and I watched his adventures with wistful stares--like little kids with their noses pressed against a forbidden toy store window. "Oh won't it be fun to go camping together, Mom?" I told Hannah and Maria, to keep praying. "We'll find something like that soon!" There were two American Girl Troops in nearby towns, but there was no way I could drive there while I was pregnant. My daughters had another enforced, holy wait as the elder siblings in a large family.

Late this summer, I started looking around for a holy "Girl Scout like" troop to join. I started getting this whisper in prayer, "join the Girl Scouts itself." I thought that must be wrong. Hadn't God been telling me NOT to join the Girl Scouts for years? So was this new directive wrong, or did it just mean I wasn't supposed to join the troop in my old neighborhood? To make it even more confusing some families in my small parish started talking about founding an American Girl Troop in my church. This was the total answer to my prayer--a safe, Catholic organization that would be totally comfortable for my kids and easy for a home-schooling Mom to fit into her schedule.

God told me again "I want you to join Girl Scouts to be a missionary..." (God doesn't speak to me straight out, He just sort of floats soft, quiet ideas in my heart. This methods of giving messages can be very confusing, especially when they don't match up to what other Catholics are doing around me). So a lady at my church actually got mad at me--because I wasn't willing to help form a troop in our own parish. That was really hard for me. Because every fact she cited about why Girl Scouts was bad made intellectual sense to me--but I was just going against my natural instincts based on this "hunch" from prayer.

The first day we came to Girl Scouts I was shocked. It was a huge troop--50 girls, and they were all from poor families. I came home to tell Jon, "I know why I'm supposed to go here for God, but this is not going to be a comfortable fit at all. Should I get a new troop?"

I kept going and it was really humbling. This troop is all about "the girls." These Moms have so much on their plate, but they keep showing up for love of their girls. Sitting in the meetings, I overhear stories that are exactly like waiting room of my old Legal Services office. "My phone got shut off for a $400 bill, you can't call me until next pay day?" Or "My SSI check got tangled up, been going on 8 months now...."

Girl Scouts is where the needy girls are in my town. They are not in the American Girls Troop at the big Catholic Church one town over. I show up on Wednesday nights--often exhausted from hours of caring for Baby Abigail, and I give love. I get to watch my two little daughters, age 9 and 5, be missionaries of God's love with me.

Saturday was my town's big festival parade--the Apple Harvest parade. My girls got to wear their uniforms for the first time and march in the parade. It was totally crazy being their for 5 hours, while still nursing a teething six month old. There were a lot of boring, hard moments where I was like 'WHY am I doing this Lord!" But that picture is a reason.

So my troop has some pretty hard pressed Moms. One of their ideas  is that the girls were supposed to sit quietly on the hay bales until the parade started. After two hours of waiting, the girls started getting restless and the threats to get kicked off the float started coming down. I spoke up and caused trouble. "There's a field over there. Do you mind if I take the girls out to play some games?"

So I became the unofficial "Games Leader" of my Scout troop. This is a picture of my girls and their troop playing Red Rover. The cheerleaders behind us came over to play with us. It was a beautiful sunny October day. None of these girls had played Red Rover before  and they had so much fun.

Later we marched in a parade through my City and it was unbelievable. There were so many girls, and Moms, and Grandmamas who flashed beautiful smiles when our homely float passed by. There are wannabe Girl Scouts everywhere. I'm so encouraged to get even more girls to join our troop. I told Jon later, "if we had marched as American Girls, it wouldn't have been the same." We wouldn't have had that same access to people's hearts.

Girl Scouts is 100 years old this year. Please say a prayer that it will be cleansed and renewed. Our holy Bishops started investigating Girl Scouts for alleged improper contacts to Planned Parenthood this May. (At first I was scandalized by this, but now I think it only makes sense that the Evil One would attack such a great mission from the inside).  Twenty-five percent of all Girl Scouts Members are Roman Catholic. My girls and I will follow the Bishops' final recommendation. If they ask us to leave Girl Scouts, we'll obey. In the meantime, its an honor to pray for this group and an honor to have such an easy way to give love to so many precious girls in our community. 

Why We Love 4 H--The Heidi Factor

One of the girls from our local Swim Team started 4 H at age 9 with one Dairy Goat. Her family now owns the third Goat Dairy in the entire state of West Virginia. Last Friday we started finally 4H , after this City Girl Mom said "Ack, we can't possibly join yet another club.... for months in a row." My oldest daughter started kissing the goat herd after 4 H. ("Hmm, that must be something she remembers from her old infant babysitter," I thought.)

Then my Tess demanded to get into the goat pen. That would be my former NICU Baby, the toddler who hates anything new. Look at her with those goats. She scared and frosty, no?

These daughters of mine amaze me. There is so much that they don't get from their mother!