A Meaningful Lent, Part 11: Could I Love This Pope Any More Than I Do?

This is from the Letter of His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI to the Bishops of the Catholic Church regarding the remission of the excommunication of bishops consecrated by Archbishop Lefebvre.

These excerpts display Pope Benedict's depth of sincerity, humility and above all, his charity:


An unforeseen mishap for me was the fact that the Williamson case came on top of the remission of the excommunication. The discreet gesture of mercy towards four Bishops ordained validly but not legitimately suddenly appeared as something completely different: as the repudiation of reconciliation between Christians and Jews, and thus as the reversal of what the Council had laid down in this regard to guide the Church's path. A gesture of reconciliation with an ecclesial group engaged in a process of separation thus turned into its very antithesis: an apparent step backwards with regard to all the steps of reconciliation between Christians and Jews taken since the Council -- steps which my own work as a theologian had sought from the beginning to take part in and support. That this overlapping of two opposed processes took place and momentarily upset peace between Christians and Jews, as well as peace within the Church, is something which I can only deeply deplore.

Can any of us imagine what it must be like to do one's job (granted, the job description for "pope" is a unique one) under the scrutiny of the entire world? A discreet gesture of mercy rose to the top of the news slush pile and suddenly everyone was condemning the Holy Father and his purportedly wrong-headed priorities and decisions.

But, this next section speaks volumes about this man:

I was saddened by the fact that even Catholics who, after all, might have had a better knowledge of the situation, thought they had to attack me with open hostility. Precisely for this reason I thank all the more our Jewish friends, who quickly helped to clear up the misunderstanding and to restore the atmosphere of friendship and trust which -- as in the days of Pope John Paul II -- has also existed throughout my pontificate and, thank God, continues to exist.

How often do we who should know better attack others with open hostility? A question worth pondering in these remaining days of Lent.

A little more from the Holy Father:

So if the arduous task of working for faith, hope and love in the world is presently (and, in various ways, always) the Church's real priority, then part of this is also made up of acts of reconciliation, small and not so small. That the quiet gesture of extending a hand gave rise to a huge uproar, and thus became exactly the opposite of a gesture of reconciliation, is a fact which we must accept. But I ask now: Was it, and is it, truly wrong in this case to meet half-way the brother who "has something against you" (cf. Mt 5:23ff.) and to seek reconciliation?

... Should not we, as good educators, also be capable of overlooking various faults and making every effort to open up broader vistas? And should we not admit that some unpleasant things have also emerged in Church circles? At times one gets the impression that our society needs to have at least one group to which no tolerance may be shown; which one can easily attack and hate. And should someone dare to approach them -- in this case the Pope -- he too loses any right to tolerance; he too can be treated hatefully, without misgiving or restraint.

Dear Brothers, during the days when I first had the idea of writing this letter, by chance, during a visit to the Roman Seminary, I had to interpret and comment on Galatians 5:13-15. I was surprised at the directness with which that passage speaks to us about the present moment: "Do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love be servants of one another. For the whole law is fulfilled in one word: ‘You shall love your neighbour as yourself'. But if you bite and devour one another, take heed that you are not consumed by one another." I am always tempted to see these words as another of the rhetorical excesses which we occasionally find in Saint Paul. To some extent that may also be the case. But sad to say, this "biting and devouring" also exists in the Church today, as expression of a poorly understood freedom.

Should we be surprised that we too are no better than the Galatians? That at the very least we are threatened by the same temptations? That we must always learn anew the proper use of freedom? And that we must always learn anew the supreme priority, which is love?

My prayer for the remainder of Lent:

Father, let me learn anew the proper use of my freedom, and let me learn anew the supreme priority of love.

Read the entire letter here, and h/t to the Catholic Education Resource Center.

Update to "What We're Reading"

I was just on our library website, and saw that they have the young adult version of the Charles Shields biography of Harper Lee.

Take a look at his website for more info on I Am Scout.

Nature or Nurture?

Ramona asked me for something she couldn't have.

I said, "No, I'm sorry, sweetie," at which point she threw herself to the ground, with a moan.

I asked her not to do that.

"I can't help it," she wailed. "It's my instinct!"

What We're Reading

Last month, Roxane Salonen mentioned Mockingbird: A Portrait of Harper Lee. I'd never read it, so I picked it up when we next hit the library.

I loved this book.

As Roxane did, I felt wistful when I reached the end. I wanted to linger a bit longer with those behind-the-scenes facts, fascinating stories and compelling portraits. (Did you know, as an example of a tidbit, that when Gregory Peck first arrived in Monroeville, Alabama to research his role as Atticus that he was mistaken for a homeless man? Or that Lee pictured Spencer Tracy in the role? That the studio considered Rock Hudson?)

What I found most interesting, though, was the development and birth of the manuscript for To Kill a Mockingbird, and the support Lee received during the writing of it. (I won't reveal details, though, as I don't want to spoil it for you.)

I have mixed feelings about biographies of the still-living, especially someone as fiercely protective of her privacy as Harper Lee has always been. But, Charles Shields did an excellent and respectful job here -- he avoided speculating overmuch on matters that do not merit our speculation, and by way of some pretty amazing and extensive research, he managed to paint an overall positive portrait without fawning. He also nicely covered the question Harper Lee must have tired of hearing: "Why didn't you ever write another?"

*****

Anne-with-an-e reads Here in the Bonny Glen every day, so she snatched up Rules at the library after reading Lissa's review. She loved it and passed her recommendation on to Betsy, who had just finished reading and rereading Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

Anne and Betsy can often be seen rereading a Harry Potter book, too, and they think we should most certainly reread Book 6 together sometime before July, when the next movie comes out.

I mentioned awhile back that Anne was reading To Kill a Mockingbird but I never followed up here on her reactions. She loved it all, and the ending had her in tears. As a mom, as a fan, and as a teacher, there's nothing more satisfying than that.

*****

Ramona just read Little House by Boston Bay. I should say that she reread it, as it was our read-aloud awhile back. Ramona is hooked on all things "Old Little House" at the moment.

She is also enjoying Cynthia Rylant's Cobble Street Cousins series.

*****

Atticus is reading all things American military history, as he's taking a class on the subject. Bleh.

from the Inbox (and other updates)

The Catholic Company is sponsoring a First Communion Photo Contest and all the details are here.

The prize is a $100 gift card.

(It won't be long and Ramona will be receiving her First Holy Communion. How can that be? And, I'm reminded that I haven't blogged about the fact that Anne-with-an-e will be confirmed this spring. But, that's another post.)

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Shmoop.com is a study guide website. We're currently poking around on a rabbit trail about the War of 1812 (sparked by the Charlotte books I've read to Ramona this year.) I haven't dug deeply into the site yet, but so far I like it. From Shmoop's email:

This isn’t your traditional study product, it is designed by Ph.D and Masters students from top universities (many of whom have taught at the college or high school levels) to make learning more fun and relevant for students who grew up with YouTube, MySpace, and video games. Shmoop features deep analysis peppered with snark, challenging study questions, multiple points-of-view, trivia and helps students and teachers explore the Internet for audio-video-photos-documents-links galore.

I can't get the picture of Seinfeld Shmoopie-ing with his girlfriend out of my head ... then I remember that that's the Soup Nazi episode, which leads me to think about how my kids do lines from tv shows and movies they've never seen ... but that's another post, too.

**********

Another study guide site that I haven't had a lot of time to look at, but am interested in, is Crossref-it.info which aims to study writers, poets and literature in their historical context. From their website:

Crossref-it.info material is organised into four handy subject areas:

* Writers in context covers the life and times of various authors, and what was going on socially, politically and in the world of ideas / beliefs
* Aspects of literature takes particular genres and eras and helps you appreciate the key characteristics of that style of writing
* Texts in detail provides detailed commentary on a growing number of exam texts featured in the current A level syllabuses
* Successful study

I love timelines, and I can imagine us using some of theirs, such as this one on Gerard Manley Hopkins, and this one on Shakespeare.

**********

And, my blogging time for this morning is now up!

Friends of the Heart

I rarely do these award things, and you know why.
Meme paralysis.
Again.
And again.



But, I'll do this one in honor of Donna, at Moments Like These, who is truly a friend of the heart, and who reminds us that moments like these are what it's all about.

from Donna's blog:

These blogs are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers.

Deliver this award to eight bloggers who must choose eight more ....

I always rebel against the "must choose others" stuff, and this time is no different. You don't have to do anything, post anything, name anyone.

This is just a small "thank you" for what you add to my life.

So, I'll just tag you and run -- sort of like delivering a May Day basket on your front porch:

Dawn at By Sun and Candlelight

Kristen at Small Treasures

Willa at Sierra Highlands

Liz at On Giants' Shoulders

Melanie at The Wine-Dark Sea

Amy at Epiphany Springs (I remember when you were "A Call to Adventure"!)

Rebecca at A Gypsy Caravan

Donna-Marie at Embracing Motherhood (and, please pray for Donna today -- she is ill with a serious infection, and is in need of prayer!)

Thanks to these ladies, and to the many and varied inspiring blogs out there.

You know who you are.

And, you get my meme paralysis, don't you? So, to all the rest, consider yourself tagged, too, and feel free to spread the hearts and May Day baskets as freely as Miss Rumphius spreads lupine seeds.

Ramona Looks for Her Church Shoes

"I found them, Mommy! They're pretty easy to find, being black and shiny and all. Unless they were in a dark, black closet. Then, that would be hard."

Poetry Friday: Unschooling Poetry with Ramona

The other day at the library, Ramona (age 6) plopped down in front of the computer. She loves to search for books via the online catalog.



She typed:

Emily Dickinson

Then she looked at me.

I nodded (affirming her spelling) and she clicked. We decided we'd go grab a biography of the Belle of Amherst.

Then she typed:

Robert Frost

I said, "You've been paying attention!"

"To what?" she asked slyly. "You mean to the poets we read?"

"To everything, apparently," I replied.

She moved on, and typed in: O g d e n N a s h ....

*****

I don't "teach" poetry to my kids very often. What I do most often is read it to them. I share favorites. I invite them into the words I love. I email links to my older girls, gems they'll discover in their Inboxes at their leisure -- like this fun link to a magnetic poetry site, shared in last week's Poetry Friday post at A Wrung Sponge.

Oh, yes, as Anne moves into high school we'll step it up, dig further in, round out her poetry education. We'll discuss more about form, structure, rhyme schemes and poets' dreams.

But even then we won't be "done." One's education in language is a lifelong endeavor.


Here's my own quick grab-bag-poem from the magnetic poetry site:

approach
observe ink
movement rhythm metaphor
impression
chisel symbol
dazzle
demand
imagine capture

Julie Larios is hosting the Poetry Friday round up at The Drift Record.

Joining Michele's Discussion: What is Education? (Part 4: Changing Ideas)

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
~~~~~~~~~~



How have your ideas about education evolved and changed over time (if they have).
Hmmm.

My ideas about education.

They.
Have.
Changed.
Beyond.
Recognition.

When Anne-with-an-e was born, I had never, ever considered homeschooling.

Oh, I knew about those homeschooling fools. They were the people I'd ridiculed years before when they were fighting for the right to legally educate their kids at home. I'd heard of them (noisy religious fanatics that they were) and forgotten about them.

By 1993, when my first child was born, I didn't have an ounce of interest in homeschooling. I knew that my child would attend whatever public school was nearby, wherever Atticus taught. Because public school was simply what people did.

(I still believe in the ideals of public education -- that a great, solid education should be available to everyone, which is quite different from an education that is compulsory, but that's another post.)

I remember having thoughts about things that would be a part of "Kindergarten and so on" and I therefore didn't worry too much about some of those basics: "Oh ... she'll learn that in school," I would think.

In 1997, when Anne was about three-and-a-half, and I'd been a Catholic for two years, we bought a home from a family who homeschooled. I still remember the first time we went to see the house. As I knocked, I wondered what kind of demented woman would answer the door, and what kind of freaks would her children be, having been shut up in the house all day long, day after wretched, homebound day?

But shortly after that, I began to hear more about homeschooling from various quarters. A close friend was looking into it, though his wife wasn't convinced. At a Bible study I attended, a couple of people were discussing it. I began to find myself strangely intrigued. Oh, I knew we would never do it -- could anyone imagine Atticus, a public school teacher, homeschooling his own children? Preposterous. But, ummm ... tell me more, I found myself saying. Tell me. More.

They told me more. I began to read, and discuss, and explore online, and then read some more. I was drawn to it again and again, despite all my doubts and fears. I remember asking someone on an e-list, "Can I really do it? I'm already tired all the time. How will I teach my kids, on top of everything else I do?"

Those lovely moms assured me that it could happen, it does work, and that it's a process. Kind of like growing into grilled peanut butter.

I decided that if I completely blew it the first year, well, at least my daughter wouldn't be ruined forever. I could still put her in school for the final eleven years of her education, right? Eventually, Atticus was on board, too, and we began.

Now I marvel at how much my mindset has changed.

The idea of waiting for someone else to figure out our path? Or to determine all that my children need to learn? Conforming to others' ideas about what an education is, how it should be accomplished? It sounds like a foreign language now.

And, it all brings home the Church's teachings on the principle of subsidiarity:

The teaching of the Church has elaborated the principle of subsidiarity, according to which "a community of a higher order should not interfere in the internal life of a community of a lower order, depriving the latter of its functions, but rather should support it in case of need and help to co- ordinate its activity with the activities of the rest of society, always with a view to the common good."

-- Catechism of the Catholic Church

We, as parents, are capable of making these choices and carrying out these plans. And, by not depriving ourselves of the most basic responsibility as the primary educators of our children, we have created something -- in the way of education, lifestyle and family relationships -- that we treasure.

In short, my idea of education has changed in this way: I used to think of it as "something they would get in school."

Now, I know it is "something we define, plan and pursue."

"Education" is a wide open space, a vast universe, a wilderness waiting to be explored; it's unconventional and traditional, depending on the day, the book or the topic. It's full of things that are fun and fascinating, not just things that are required to pass the test. It is books, discussion, and knowing when we don't need to talk.

It is our life. As Betsy said in this post, "... let's take years and years and years to learn everything!"

"Education" isn't something that's confined to a desk, from 8 to 3. It's a full-time job, and yes, sometimes it is exhausting to homeschool. But, I'm so glad those noisy, crazy religious fanatics fought for their right to pursue it. For my right. And my privilege, because make no mistake ... no matter how much work it is, defining, planning, and pursuing my kids' education is an enormous privilege, one I'm extraordinarily grateful to have.

On related notes, here are links to a couple of past posts on homeschooling:

Here's one about finding support for homeschooling.

Here's a post from 2006 about "What is 'normal' anyway?"

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Upcoming questions:

What’s working? What’s not working?

What are you aiming for?

The Solemnity of the Annunciation

Another Solemnity to celebrate!

We interrupt this Lent to bring you glad tidings of great joy.

I love this sane and balanced attitude of Mother Church. Although we are exhorted to sacrifice during Lent, "Mom" never lets us forget that our Lord is risen indeed, and even during a season of penance and self-examination, there are days on which we are fairly commanded to celebrate. Being an obedient Catholic, that is exactly what I will do.

A couple of other ideas to consider:

Read these beautiful words from St. Bernard, "Arise, hasten, open."

Consider doing a spiritual adoption of a child conceived at this time of year, and in danger of abortion. No, you don't know the child's name, but that child is out there. (It was my friend Andrea who first introduced this idea to me when I was a new Catholic.) Then, pray for that child through the nine months from today until Christmas day (don't forget to point out to your children that the Annunciation is celebrated exactly nine months before Christmas.) At Christmas time, donate baby items to a crisis pregnancy center (some parishes do spiritual adoptions as parish-wide prayer project, holding a "baby shower" during Advent to collect needed items for donation.)

Or, consider "adopting" a child through a child-sponsorship program, such as this excellent Catholic organization: The Christian Foundation for Children and Aging, through which individuals and families can sponsor children, the elderly or a religious vocation candidate.

However we observe and celebrate this feast, I pray to remember the lesson that is at its core: Mary's fiat ... her "yes" to the Lord.

Where am I withholding my fiat? Is there something I need to say "yes" to that I'm resisting? If so, I pray that the Lord will grant me to grace to say, with Mary, "Let it be done to me according to Thy Word."

(The painting is "The Annunciation" by Henry Ossawa Tanner, 1859-1937. There are so many incredible, beautiful pieces of art from which to choose for the Annunciation -- just Google "Annunciation" under "images" -- but I love the portrayal of the angel in this one, as something that is beyond our vision and comprehension.)

Family History, Family Time

The girls and I are doing a 4-H/History/Geography project, and we're looking into our family tree. My father has already made this very easy for us by doing, well, basically all the legwork.

He started it a few years ago, and traced my maternal grandmother's side of the family back to Resolved White, who came over on the Mayflower. Such interesting things to discover! I knew my mother's family went way back in New England, but putting these pieces together is as fun for me as it is for the girls.

I always think of a lot of Irish heritage on my maternal grandfather's side, because he was born in Ireland, but his father was actually from Scotland and it was from there that my grandfather sailed to America in 1911, when he was two years old. Our ancestors on my mother's side are all from Scotland and England -- no Irish that I can see, other than the fact that my grandfather's parents lived there when he was born.

And, on my father's side, it's pretty much German all the way.

It's fascinating stuff, and tucked in with some of the family tree notes were some other things from one of my grandmothers, letters I wrote her when I was in Kindergarten, and eight, nine and ten years old. My girls were delighted to read them, and to compare my handwriting and letter-writing skills to theirs.

Together we read a pack of letters I sent to my grandfather when I was thirty years old. He was suffering macular degeneration by then and was nearly blind. He was still able to read, though, with the help of a special computer/viewer and typed letters were the easiest for him to read. (By inserting the paper in the viewer, the text was magnified on a screen, making it readable for him.) So, one year, not knowing what else to give him for Christmas, I put together a year's worth of letters, one for each month. They were just silly little bits ... thoughts and poems and interesting factoids that I thought would amuse him.

The gift was such a hit that I put together a pack of them for Grandpa for the next year, too. As the girls and I started to read through that stack tonight, we got to the autumn of that year and realized that the last few letters were never opened. That would have been when my grandfather was sick, I suppose. Sometime later, he died. My grandmother apparently never opened those letters.

So, we opened them tonight, my girls and I, and we read through them. Silly little bits. Things I'd forgotten, things meant for my grandfather's eyes that he never saw. And I smiled at my grandmother holding on to them, not opening "mail" that wasn't hers.

My daughters looked concerned when they saw me tear up. They worry about things that make me cry. They needn't worry, though. My tears were tears of gratitude. I was extraordinarily blessed to have four beautiful, caring, loving grandparents, well into my adulthood. Not everyone has that. Yes, I miss them, but I was blessed.

History.

Family.

Time.

It all continues, and it's the best kind of project.

Flannery O'Connor on the writing life

Thanks again to Debra Murphy's "Quotes for Catholic Writers":

"What first stuns the young writer emerging from college is that there is no clear-cut road for him to travel on. He must chop a path in the wilderness of his own soul; a disheartening process, lifelong and lonesome."

--Flannery O'Connor, 1948

(Debra noted that this quote is from a review of a new biography of Flannery O'Connor at The Washington Post.)

Happy Birthday, Billy Collins

More here at The Writer's Almanac.

I should have a Billy category.

Not that I mention him a lot.

Laetare Sunday

Rejoice!

More information in the Catholic Encyclopedia
and at Women for Faith and Family.

Ramona on Housework

As she helped me clean the bathroom today, Ramona said:

"Mommy, cleaning is a dirty but unusually fun job."

Ramona ponders an oxymoron

Ramona: I wish we had a Heimlich action figure. Wait ... that doesn't make sense. Heimlich doesn't do much.

Poetry Friday: Stranger than we can think

I can't help it.

I'm a melancholic. An INFJ. Embarrassing proof that I'm melancholic and INFJ is that I have actually taken tests to label myself as such.

Other embarrassing proof is the poetry to which I'm drawn. Often it is about the impossibility of life, the stumbling and falls, the hidden corners of our psyches where we struggle with contradictions and fear.

One of the reasons I am so drawn to my Catholic faith is that it is full of impossibilities, signs of contradiction, and acknowledgments of those hidden corners, and yet it offers an impossible, glorious remedy that became the only Possibility that makes sense. And, while life still sometimes feels absurd, it makes absurdly rational sense, too.

Once, long ago, I wrote this quote from Virginia Woolf in my journal, and I meant it as a serious question:

"Why is life so tragic, so like a little strip of pavement over an abyss? I look down; I feel giddy; I wonder how I am ever to walk to the end."

Now I know how I will walk to the end.


Poem on a Line by Anne Sexton, 'We are All Writing God's Poem'

by Barbara Crooker

Today, the sky's the soft blue of a work shirt washed
a thousand times. The journey of a thousand miles
begins with a single step. On the interstate listening
to NPR, I heard a Hubble scientist
say, "The universe is not only stranger than we
think, it's stranger than we can think." I think
I've driven into spring, as the woods revive
with a loud shout, redbud trees, their gaudy
scarves flung over bark's bare limbs. Barely doing
sixty, I pass a tractor trailer called Glory Bound,
and aren't we just? Just yesterday,
I read Li Po: "There is no end of things
in the heart," but it seems like things
are always ending—vacation or childhood,
relationships, stores going out of business,
like the one that sold jeans that really fit—

(read the rest here, at Writer's Almanac, and if you follow it daily, I'm sorry for having spoiled tomorrow's poem for you.)

More from Barbara Crooker here.

Elaine is hosting the Poetry Friday round-up at Wild Rose Reader.

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Temperament tests:

Your medieval Personality Type

Very short quiz

A longish Myers-Brigg quiz

A book I like: The Temperament God Gave You: The Classic Key to Knowing Yourself, Getting Along with Others, and Growing Closer to the Lord

A Meaningful Lent: Part 10 It's the Solemnity of St. Joseph!

An oasis in the desert.

A Solemnity (read: "It's as big as a Sunday!")

Celebrate today the earthly foster father of Jesus.

I find nothing sweeter to my imagination than to see the celestial little Jesus in the arms of this great saint, calling him father a thousand and a thousand times in his childlike language, and with a heart all full of childlike love.

~~ St. Francis de Sales,
from The Mystical Flora of St. Francis de Sales

Though we have always celebrated St. Joseph's day (by "always" I really mean, "Since I became Catholic," and "I'll jump on any legitimate feast day,") I've not paid much attention to the Italian traditions that go hand-in-hand with this Solemnity. But, one of the priests in our parish grew up with Sicilian traditions, and he's been sharing them with us, inspiring me to do more with St. Joseph's day than to simply feast on the things from which I've been fasting.

More information on traditional St. Joseph celebrations can be found at Catholic Culture and Catholic Cuisine.

On a more serious note, I always say prayers of thanksgiving on this day for the intercession of St. Joseph, which has been an enormous blessing for our family.

I believe he prayed for us through Atticus's conversion, through miscarriages, through doubts and fears about more miscarriages (which can lead to fears of being open to life) and for the spiritual growth of our domestic church.

My beloved St. Joseph is the model husband and father ... giving of himself completely, pouring himself out in body and spirit, offering a total self-donation for his wife and foster-son. May he hear our prayers and cries for intercession, and may he intercede before the throne of God for our family, for all fathers, and for all who call on him with love and faith in the Savior whom he raised, and especially today for many fathers who are seeking work in these difficult economic times.

One of my favorite prayers for the intercession of St. Joseph:

Oh, Saint Joseph, whose protection is so great,
so strong, so prompt, before the Throne of God,
I place before you, all my interest and desires.

Oh, Saint Joseph, do assist me by your powerful
intercession and obtain for me from your Divine Son,
all spiritual blessings, through Jesus Christ our Lord.
So having engaged here below your heavenly power,
I may offer my thanksgiving and homage to the most
loving of Fathers.

Oh, Saint Joseph, I never weary contemplating you,
and Jesus asleep in your arms; I dare not approach
while he reposes near your heart. Press Him in my
name and kiss His fine head for me and ask Him
to return the Kiss when I draw my dying breath.
Saint Joseph, Patron of departing souls --

Pray for us.


(Image above is Georges de La Tour's "Christ in the Carpenter's Shop", 1645)

A Meaningful Lent, Part 9: How's it goin', eh?

We've been trudging through the desert for three weeks, but who's counting?

At more than halfway to Easter, it's a good time for some assesment.


Am I aching for the things I gave up? Good. That means I'm too attached, and I'm forcing myself to turn to God for strength, comfort and immediate gratification, rather than to created goods.

Am I barely feeling my sacrifices? Hmmm. Maybe I should add something new to the mix. One year I gave up complaining, which is always guaranteed to offer renewed humility and gratitude.

Some places to visit to gather strength for the rest of the journey:

Pope Benedict's Message for Lent this year
Just in case you haven't read it yet

These Forty Days
A lovely and inspiring blog, put together by Nissa Gadbois.

CatholicMom.com
Loads of links here

Lent: Call to Conversion
from AmericanCatholic.org

Our Sunday Visitor
Guide to Lent

Faith and Family Live's Lenten page

I'm actually not surprised

Ramona: Mommy! Surprise! I had red dye today!

Joining Michele's Discussion: What is Education? (Part 3 - A great family relationship)

Part 1 is here and Part 2 is here.
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The last post ended with: "Most importantly, our experience has been that homeschooling is not just a method of education, but a way of life that has brought our family closer than I could have imagined or predicted."

And that's where I'll pick up today. It's true that homeschooling offers us the ability to tailor (or eschew) curriculum as needed, include as much faith formation in our days as we like, and gives us freedom and flexibility with our schedule, but the bonus is this: a great family relationship.

Sometimes when people find out we homeschool, they say, "I couldn't stand to be with my children all the time!" or, "Don't they drive you crazy?" and it's then that I realize what we have.

I can stand to be with them. What's more, I don't just love them, I like them.

They don't drive me crazy (most of the time.) Yes, we're human and we occasionally want to bat each other over the head with a croquet mallet, but I'd estimate that happens only .05% of the time and it usually has something to do with the fact that four females live here and we're out of chocolate and/or Tylenol.

We have to get along. We're an organization, a club, a co-op. We're a school, a nuclear unit, an aggregation, an association; we're a body, a circle, a coalition, a going concern. We're a consortium, a crew, an establishment, a federation. We're an institution, a league, a society, a sodality, a team and a union. (And we wield a hefty thesaurus.)

We've banded together and created something: an education that is unfolding with home as home base.

That doesn't mean we're home all the time, or that we never see other people. Anne-with-an-e and I were recently snorting with laughter over a book summary we saw: "Jason is homeschooled, so he's never really been around other kids."

I beg your pardon?

May I dispel right now the notion that homeschooled children are locked into dark closets and fed nothing but textbooks all day long? ("And don't come out until you can spell pulchritude!")

What it means is that we've created this thing -- this home-based education -- and that we're in it together. We discuss with our kids everything that is related to their education. At first it was only Atticus and me doing the planning and decision-making but the kids have become a part of the process. Their voices are heard, their desires are considered and respected, and their goals are encouraged, even when their goals surprise us.

And all of this discussion, and the resulting shared experience, has helped us cultivate a bond, genuine respect and genuine appreciation and enjoyment of one another's company.

The world seems to think that teens have to be distant and difficult in order to properly separate, but we certainly haven't found that to be true. I think my kids are pretty normal in the usual growing-up-and-growing-away stuff. They're finding their own ways, ideas, tastes, and talents, and yes, we sometimes get the "You are such a parent" eye roll. But, in general, our kids like us. And we like them.

A delightful, and very close family relationship has been one of the huge, unexpected boons for me in homeschooling.

~~~~~~~~~~

Upcoming questions:

How have your ideas about education evolved and changed over time (if they have).

What’s working? What’s not working?

What are you aiming for?

St. Patrick's Breastplate

After you've prayed this beautiful prayer today, be sure to listen to "The Deer's Cry" (St. Patrick's Breastplate set to music, hauntingly sung by Rita Connolly) here. Rita Connolly is the wife of Shaun Davey, who composed the piece.

St. Patrick's Breastplate

I bind to myself today
The strong virtue of the Invocation of the Trinity:
I believe the Trinity in the Unity
The Creator of the Universe.

I bind to myself today
The virtue of the Incarnation of Christ with His Baptism,
The virtue of His crucifixion with His burial,
The virtue of His Resurrection with His Ascension,
The virtue of His coming on the Judgement Day.

I bind to myself today
The virtue of the love of seraphim,
In the obedience of angels,
In the hope of resurrection unto reward,
In prayers of Patriarchs,
In predictions of Prophets,
In preaching of Apostles,
In faith of Confessors,
In purity of holy Virgins,
In deeds of righteous men.

I bind to myself today
The power of Heaven,
The light of the sun,
The brightness of the moon,
The splendour of fire,
The flashing of lightning,
The swiftness of wind,
The depth of sea,
The stability of earth,
The compactness of rocks.

I bind to myself today
God's Power to guide me,
God's Might to uphold me,
God's Wisdom to teach me,
God's Eye to watch over me,
God's Ear to hear me,
God's Word to give me speech,
God's Hand to guide me,
God's Way to lie before me,
God's Shield to shelter me,
God's Host to secure me,
Against the snares of demons,
Against the seductions of vices,
Against the lusts of nature,
Against everyone who meditates injury to me,
Whether far or near,
Whether few or with many.

I invoke today all these virtues
Against every hostile merciless power
Which may assail my body and my soul,
Against the incantations of false prophets,
Against the black laws of heathenism,
Against the false laws of heresy,
Against the deceits of idolatry,
Against the spells of women, and smiths, and druids,
Against every knowledge that binds the soul of man.

Christ, protect me today
Against every poison, against burning,
Against drowning, against death-wound,
That I may receive abundant reward.

Christ with me, Christ before me,
Christ behind me, Christ within me,
Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ at my right, Christ at my left,
Christ in the fort,
Christ in the chariot seat,
Christ in the deck,
Christ in the heart of everyone who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks to me,
Christ in every eye that sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me.

I bind to myself today
The strong virtue of an invocation of the Trinity,
I believe the Trinity in the Unity
The Creator of the Universe.

Anne-with-an-e Channels Steven Wright

"Mom, when I do algebra, I have deja vous and amnesia at the same time. I think I've forgotten this before."

Third Sunday of Lent

For the foolishness of God is wiser than human wisdom,
and the weakness of God is stronger than human strength.

~~ 1 Cor. 1:25

Thank you, God,
for foolishness and weakness
that show us true wisdom
and true strength.
Thank you, God,
for Christ crucified,
and for showing me the way
beyond the stumbling block.
Stay with me
as I continue my stumbling
on this path toward heaven,
eyes fixed on Jesus,
cherishing the prize,
and grateful for
such foolish ways.

Joining Michele's Discussion: What is Education? (Part 2)

Part 1 is here.
~~~~~~~~~~
Today, I'm going to combine a couple of Michele's discussion starters:

What’s your experience?
Why did you choose to homeschool?

Of course, these are huge questions. I don't intend a comprehensive answer fully detailing our nearly-nine years of homeschooling. But, in general, I'll try to sum up our experience:

We've loved it.

We started homeschooling for a few different reasons:

1. I wanted to make the choices that were right for my children.

Anne-with-an-e was a bright, precocious little girl. She went to preschool and Kindergarten, and though neither one was a horrid experience, I saw so much room for improvement. I saw the beginning signs of discouragement and a lack of interest in learning, based on the ways certain things and ideas were required in a school environment. Homeschooling would allow me to choose the books, activities and methods that would work best for Anne and keep her excited about learning new things.

That was a huge reason, and it has remained true and relevant to our experience. Tailoring methods and materials for each child is still a great reason for homeschooling. Each of my children learns differently, and not having to plug them into a one-size-fits-all style of education has worked beautifully for us.

2. Homeschooling would allow us to pursue our children's faith formation and development in the way we wanted to pursue it.

Not that families who send their children to school can't cultivate family prayer and family faith formation, but we've found that we just love what homeschooling does for the atmosphere of and approach to our Catholic faith.

Our days can start with prayer, and our "school" atmosphere can revolve around the liturgical year.

3. Homeschooling would allow the flexibility and freedom to do things we couldn't do if the kids were in school.

We can arrange activities with out-of-town homeschooling friends any day of the week, we can "do school" in the morning, afternoon, or evening, as it suits us. We can read books at the lake or the park. And we can schedule things (such as job-shadowing a veterinarian) any time in our school year, rather than waiting for a limited, crowded summertime opportunity to crop up.

***

Those are the main reasons we started homeschooling. I continue to cherish the ways in which home education allows us choices, freedom, flexibility, and faith. Those have been the things that allow us to say of our experience, "We've loved it."

Is it perfect? No.
Have we made mistakes? Yes.
Have I had doubts? Yes.

But they always pass, and we have always been grateful that we stuck with it.

Most importantly, our experience has been that homeschooling is not just a method of education, but a way of life that has brought our family closer than I could have imagined or predicted.

More on that in the next post ....

~~~~~~~~~~

Upcoming questions:

How have your ideas about education evolved and changed over time (if they have).

What’s working? What’s not working?

What are you aiming for?

Hibernian Guest Blog

Hi, Atticus here guest blogging. For Poetry Friday and in honor of St. Patrick's, I've decided to add this passage from James Joyce's masterpiece "The Dead," maybe the finest short story in the English language. You'll find the entire piece in Dubliners, a collection of stories all constructed around epiphanic moments in the the lives of their protagonists. You may also wish to see the movie. It was John Huston's last picture, and it is very good:

Generous tears filled Gabriel's eyes. He had never felt like that himself towards any woman, but he knew that such a feeling must be love. The tears gathered more thickly in his eyes and in the partial darkness he imagined he saw the form of a young man standing under a dripping tree. Other forms were near. His soul had approached that region where dwell the vast hosts of the dead. He was conscious of, but could not apprehend, their wayward and flickering existence. His own identity was fading out into a grey impalpable world: the solid world itself, which these dead had one time reared and lived in, was dissolving and dwindling.

A few light taps upon the pane made him turn to the window. It had begun to snow again. He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight. The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward. Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.

Poetry Friday: Knoxville: Summer 1915

This short prose poem is gorgeous in its simplicity and rhythms, and in the power of its final lines.

It opens with the gentle, rocking rhythms of a summer night, the routines that soothe and reassure, the people and mundane events so familiar. With lyrical precision, Agee conjures an evening we can see, hear, taste, breathe in. And then, just as we are languidly dozing with the narrator, we see and feel something different, something powerful and sad, and often real and true.


Knoxville, Summer 1915

--James Agee

It has become that time of evening when people sit on their porches, rocking gently and talking gently and watching the street and the standing up into their sphere of possession of the trees, of birds’ hung havens, hangars.

People go by; things go by. A horse, drawing a buggy, breaking his hollow iron music on the asphalt; a loud auto; a quiet auto; people in pairs, not in a hurry, switching their weight of aestival body, talking casually, the taste hovering over them of vanilla, strawberry, pasteboard and starched milk, the image upon them of lovers and horsemen, squared with clowns in hueless amber.

...

After a little I am taken in and put to bed. Sleep, soft smiling, draws me unto her: and those receive me, who quietly treat me, as one familiar and well-beloved in that home: but will not, oh, will not, not now, not ever; but will not ever tell me who I am.


Read the entire piece here (scroll about 2/3 of the way down the page for the text.)

You can listen to it Samuel Barber's version of it, set to music, here.

Tricia at The Miss Rumphius Effect is hosting this week's Poetry Friday roundup.

Joining Michele's Discussion: What is Education?

Michele Quigley wants to start a bit of discussion:

Her discussion starter: "What is Education?"

Below is Michele's list of questions, and my answer to the first one. (I plan to answer them in separate posts, because each question is post-worthy on its own.)

I hope you'll chime in with responses, your own list of answers, or links to posts you've done on the topic and/or these questions.

**********

What have you read?

Here's the list of what I can remember. Each of them was useful to me at some point in our homeschooling journey:


Catholic Education: Homeward Bound : A Useful Guide to Catholic Home Schooling by Kimberly Hahn and Mary Hasson

Designing Your Own Classical Curriculum, by Laura Bergquist

Family Matters: Why Homeschooling Makes Sense, by David Guterson

How Children Learn, by John Holt

How Children Fail, by John Holt

Homeschooling with Gentleness by Suzie Andres

A Charlotte Mason Companion by Karen Andreola

Schoolproof by Mary Pride

Homeschooling Our Children, Unschooling Ourselves by Alison McKee

The Catholic Homeschool Companion, compiled by MaureenWittmann

Pocketful of Pinecones by Karen Andreola

A Charlotte Mason Education by Catherine Levison

The Homeschool Journey by Susan and Michael Card

Educating the Wholehearted Child by Sally and Clay Clarkson

Real Learning by Elizabeth Foss

One hundred and one Devotions for Homeschool Moms by Jackie Wellwood

Homeschooling the Teen Years by Cafi Cohen

Homeschooling High School by Jeanne Gowen Dennis

Haystack Full of Needles by Alice Gunther

~~~~~~~~~~

This booklist is a visual representation of our style -- part CM, a dash of classical, a bit of unschooling.

What have you read that inspired you?

**********

Upcoming questions:

What’s your experience?

How have your ideas about education evolved and changed over time (if they have).

Why did you choose to homeschool?

What’s working? What’s not working?

What are you aiming for?

Happy (Baptismal) Birthday to Me!

(Rerunning this, but who's keeping track?)

A joyous day in the middle of the desert! (Not officially a feast day, so put that chocolate down.)

March 11, 1990:

The Event:

Karen's baptism, by an Episcopal priest (a perfectly lovely man who in no way pressured her to join the Episcopal church, which she was not ready to do. She knew only this one thing: "I must be baptized." Happily, Fr. Orval Spencer obliged.)

The Guests:

Atticus, of course (though he reiterated that this Christian stuff was fine with him, as long as it did not affect our lives.)

Friend Jack, who drove five hundred miles to be there (and was later present for my reception into the Catholic Church, and even later, present with his wife, also a convert, at Atticus's reception into the Church.)

The Results:

Joy.
Awe.
Everlasting life.
Presents.
An overwhelming urge to tell people about God.
The desire for children.
The birth of children.
Catholicism all around.


Hmmm ....

I guess it affected our lives.

Bits and Pieces of Our Days

A nice day.

An-ice day.

Streets too icy to venture out, so we didn't.

*****

We lolled in front of the TV for a design show on HGTV (and unanimously voted the final makeover, "Hideous!")

I had a deliciously long phone call with the friend who gave me this coffee cup:


I played figurines with Ramona. I have to confess that I had to force myself to do this today. I was not in the mood to make little figures talk in funny voices and say unexpected, witty things. However, by the end of said scheduled figurine session, Ramona's uncontrollable laughter made it worth every second. And reminded me that that's why I do it: heads together, laughing so hard (both of us) that I know we'll never forget The Day It Was So Icy Outside and We Played Figurines and the Girls Beat the Boys at Red Rover.

Atticus had parent-teacher conferences, so during our Atticus-less dinner, we played a few rounds of Outburst.

Atticus made it home safely.

Everyone is now in bed. Ahem. Almost everyone.

*****

I would post a lot more pictures if my computer weren't so creaky and slow.

*****

Carrots are really just an excellent delivery system for roasted red pepper hummus.

*****

Ramona likes green salad as a bedtime snack. Seriously. That's just wrong.

Color commentary from Ramona

Betsy: Ramona, why are the Snoopy, Buzz Lightyear and Abominable Snowman figurines staring at our caterpillars?


Ramona: They're not staring. They're commentating.

*****

Atticus: Is all this shouting necessary?

Ramona: Shouting exercises not only your vocal chords but your jaw!

(Mary Ellen thinks she's going to be a lawyer.)

*****

Nice try, Betsy

She said:

"How about you and Dad do the dishes, and I entertain you with some stand-up comedy?"

Ramona on Newtonian Physics

Ramona and I bumped into one another, and she fell down.

Me: "Oh, I'm sorry, sweetie! Did I knock you down?"

Ramona: "No, Mommy. That's okay. I think it was just gravity."

Second Sunday of Lent: Here I Am!

God put Abraham to the test.
He called to him, "Abraham!"
"Here I am!" he replied.

... But the LORD's messenger called to him from heaven,
"Abraham, Abraham!"
"Here I am!" he answered.

**********

What about me?

Am I here?

Am I listening?

**********

"Babies Are Important"

When Anne-with-an-e was very young and we participated in a Life Chain, I didn't want her to have to deal (yet ... I knew the day would come for more detail) with the reality of what an abortion was. So, I told her that all the signs were different ways of saying, "Babies Are Important." I explained that some people don't understand how helpless babies are, how much they need our full protection and care, even before they're born, and so we were trying to help spread the message that babies -- all babies -- are important.

Down the road, when her little sister Betsy saw or heard something about abortion, and asked what it was, Anne chimed in with, "It means babies are important, Betsy!"

And so they are.

Important facts:

• The UnChoice Campaign, from the Elliott Institute -- staying informed on the most recent abortion studies and news, facts about teens, the most recent research, resources and more.

• "Abortion is the ultimate exploitation of women." -- Alice Paul
  
  (More quotes from early feminists, who proclaimed an authentic feminism that respected women, pregnancy, childbearing and motherhood.)

• A Million Rosaries for Unborn Babies -- see this link for details.
  

• Rachel's Vineyard news, articles, resources for men.

• Babies for Life -- Making it easier to donate cord blood.

Poetry Friday: Was he free? Was he happy?

It's another wonderful Atticus pick this week, one of which I wholeheartedly approve -- the amazing W. H. Auden:




The Unknown Citizen
by W. H. Auden

(To JS/07 M 378
This Marble Monument
Is Erected by the State)

He was found by the Bureau of Statistics to be
One against whom there was no official complaint,
And all the reports on his conduct agree
that, in the modern sense of an old-fashioned word, he was a
saint,
For in everything he did ...

... Was he free? Was he happy? The question is absurd:
Had anything been wrong, we should certainly have heard.


Read the entire poem here, at Poets.org

The Poetry Friday round up is being hosted by Anastasia Suen at Picture Book of the Day.

A Meaningful Lent, Part 8: Lent with a sensitive child

When Anne-with-an-e was much younger, she was very sensitive. A picture of Jesus on the Cross could reduce her to tears. Singing certain hymns would leave her spent. The idea of forty days of sorrowful mysteries drained her. I sometimes wondered how someone so little could feel things so deeply.

Lent became a difficult time.

I, being an enthusiastic convert, looked forward to doing everything I could during Lent to challenge myself. But, I realized that my vision of Lent and the Lent I needed to provide for my tenderhearted daughter were two different things.

In a way, it was humbling to create a "more relaxed Lent," if I can call it that, than I had previously practiced, but that's what I needed to do. I pulled back, I stopped trying to do things such as Stations of the Cross for children. Anne just couldn't take it; it broke her heart.

One might argue that our Lord's crucifixion is supposed to break our hearts. Yes, it is. It does. But, a soul in formation has to be handled with the utmost care, and I knew that forcing certain practices on this child would not help her to love God more, and it may even have the opposite effect. Clearly, that was not my vision for teaching my child about how fabulous Jesus was.

All of the usual "Lent with Children" practices were good: baking pretzels, putting cottonballs on the Lamb, putting beans in the sacrifice jar for kindnesses and unselfish actions. But anything too raw, too harsh, too weepy, was just plain too hard. (And remember, Holy Mother Church doesn't technically require our children to abstain from meat on Fridays and fast on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday until they are fourteen years old.)

As Anne grew, our practices slowly grew and changed, too. Things that were once too hard are handled now, and I see an extremely sensitive child growing into a beautifully sensitive and perceptive young lady. Now in her teens, Anne chose her own penance for this Lent (and it's something she really loves, so I do believe she's challenging herself) and she also chose to take on a devotion that I hadn't even suggested.

I don't mean to suggest that Lent should be watered down. I offer all of this only to help anyone out there who has found that Lent is "just too much" for their sensitive child. You're not alone, and I can almost assure you that "pulling back" or "taking it easy" or tailoring Lenten practices to make them work for your particular child in your particular situation is not necessarily a compromise. In your case, it's sensitive parenting, and it can bear lovely fruit.

And, the beauty of the Catholic Church's teaching (that the parent is the first educator in a child's life) means that we can and should make careful, prudent decisions about these sorts of things.

Every house, every child, every soul is different.

So is every Lent.

At least, that's been the experience at our house.

"In essentials, unity; in non-essentials, liberty; in all things, charity."

(Thanks, Fr. H., for tracking down the origin of that expression.)

Move over, Billy Mays

An 89-cent bottle of hydrogen peroxide.

That's what got rid of the hideously large, Australia-shaped coffee stain that was on my carpet.

I'm spreadin' the news.

(But, wait! Call right now, and I'll offer you a second post sharing the secrets of a clean hamster cage!)

Meet Emmeline

Ramona and I made her tonight.

I was going to work, but Ramona was sprawled so pitifully on the floor, lamenting that no one would play with her, that Betsy would never, ever play Science People with her, and that she had nothing to do, and no one to do it with, and, really, wasn't her life just a hopeless, lonely mess?

Honestly, I took pity on this poor, spoiled child. Because, even though I'm sure we do spoil her terribly, sometimes it really is hard to be six years old and have sisters who are 12 and 15, whose interests have changed and are ever-changing, sisters who don't want to play Science People all the time.

So, we made a Little House doll.

And Ramona skipped around the house the rest of the evening.


**********
(p.s. On an entirely different subject ... someone emailed me today about the Writers Weekly piece that ran, but your email was inadvertently deleted ... please feel free to resend and I'll try to control my aggressive spam filter.)

Ramona Writes

Ramona (age 6) has begun typing up a story, and here's what she has so far:

lillian potter

By
Ramona


Once upon a time, in a cottage way out in apple tree woods lived a little family of 4
the cottage was a cozy one but chilly in the winter. Lillian (the eldest of the two potter cildren) was rather girly shy and dreamy. But when she was all by herself she raced through the woods and across flower-fields.

**********

More on this story as it develops.

It's all in the perspective

Ramona says:

"If you look at a doorknob just the right way, really, it's a goblet."

Daily de Sales

St. Francis de Sales, for today

(from Oblates of St. Francis de Sales):

March 4


Watch the bees on the thyme; they find a very bitter juice, but, by sucking it, convert it into honey. O worldly people! At times devout souls encounter great bitterness in their works of mortification, but by performing them they change them into something most sweet and delicious. Because the martyrs were devout men and women, fire, flame, wheel and sword seemed to be flowers and perfume to them. If devotion can sweeten the most cruel torments and even death itself, what must it do for virtuous actions? (INT. Part I, Ch. 2; O. III, p. 117)

Bits and Pieces of Our Days

Atticus was working late last night. Did you know teachers could work until 1 a.m.? They can during speech season.

[Updated to add:

Atticus is worried there are no comments here because you're all thinking, "Ummm ... 1 a.m., Karen? A teacher? Umm, maybe you should question him further, dear .... " The speech team and head coach can attest to the fact that they did not arrive back in town, after District Speech, until very late at night. There. Now we all feel better.]

Usually Atticus + working late = working at home, grading essays. Frank McCourt once said something about having no time to write when he was younger because he was too busy grading essays every waking moment of his life.

**********

I spent bits and pieces of the evening setting up housekeeping at Facebook, which I may or may not use much; it's hard to tell.

I'm blaming an old friend, who visited yesterday.

I did figure out two things: how to connect my Twitter updates to Facebook, and that I had inadvertently starred something as a "Favorite" on Twitter. For the first time, I clicked on my Twitter"Favorites," realized what they were, and saw that I'd accidentally starred one post ... something like what someone had for dinner that night.

Perhaps that's where people get the idea that all Twitter and Facebook communication is banal ... from stumblers like me, making mistakes.

**********

As for computer time-wasters ... all things in moderation, right?

**********

Our taxes are done!

**********

Last week, Atticus watched Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives (he thinks the food looks great; I cringe at the food and the host) and they highlighted a place in Omaha, run by three brothers, one of whom my sister dated for three years in high school. Funny.

**********

Ramona wishes you a sparkly day.

She didn't even sound shaky

I got this email from a friend today:

"Just a note to let you know starting tomorrow I won't have internet until further notice (about a week to 10 days)."

Huh.

She sounded fine. There must be some sort of methadone thing that she'll be using in the meantime. I think she called it a ... what was it again? Oh, yeah. She spoke of a thing called a phone ....

You might be a Catholic if ...

Your home decorating tends to revolve around liturgical colors.

You say things to friends such as, "You love the Office of Readings? So do I!"

Your favorite jewelry involves a crucifix.

Your kids yell, "Hi, Jesus!" when you pass a Catholic Church.

There's Latin somewhere, in some form, in your life.

You like being obedient to such sublime wisdom.

You've been heard saying, "Stop swinging that Rosary around your head!"

You have eleventy-seven children (because that's how God works in your life.)

You have only one child (because that's how God works in your life.)

You were unable to have children (because that's how God works in your life.)

You have adopted children (because that's how God works in your life.)

You call a man who lives thousands of miles away, in a foreign country, "Papa."

You think cassocks are cool.

You sometimes slip and refer to a male friend as "Father."

You've actually had discussions about "rose" vs. "pink."

You remember events based on the saint's feast day on which they fell.

You thoroughly enjoy having three moms (biological, Holy Mother Church, the Blessed Mother ....)

And, this is not part of the list, but she asked if she could type, and this is what came out:

i love you lord! (typed by Ramona)

And, finally, you might be Catholic if you hope and pray with all your heart that she, and all your children, keep saying that same thing all the days of their lives, and that they allow the beauty of the teachings of this ancient faith to permeate everything they do.

A Meaningful Lent, Part 7: My Crown of Thorns

When I was received into the Catholic Church fourteen years ago, my dear friend Jack gave me an incredible gift: a crown of thorns.

This is not a miniature replica, nor a harmless likeness. It is a real, piercing, terrible, beautiful crown of thorns.

Every year, during Lent, it is prominently displayed in our home. It does wonders for my tiny Lenten sacrifices. A brief, but penetrating gaze upon the thorns penetrates my thoughts, my soul, my desires. It keeps my little offerings in perspective.

The sight of the crown that our King endured keeps me close in thought to Him, the Man Who gave everything for me, the One Who loves me no matter how weak I am, or how petty or selfish. No matter how much I may stray or grow lukewarm, He is there. He is faithful, waiting for the one He loves to return that love and fidelity. All. The. Time.

And that's what Lent is, for me ... a rekindling of the greatest love affair of my life. And, when I am tempted to think that my little Lenten sacrifices are too much, or too hard, I gaze upon that crown of thorns.

And I know that nothing is too much. He showed us what it means to give everything. The least I can do is feel the sting of my small sacrifices.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Places to find a crown of thorns:

Holy Land Imports
Rosary Workshop
Jerusalem Export House

Why My Black Thumb Makes Me Think of God

I'm not known as the gardener in this family.

The other day I noticed that I was once again murdering my philodendron. I forget the little things, like, oh, say, water.

My pathetic little plant was yellowed and droopy. Beyond droopy. It was teetering on the edge of its earthly existence, about to join the choir invisible of greenery.

I decided to station it by the kitchen sink, near a light. I gave it copious amounts of water and it quickly bounced back, as perhaps only a Karen-proof plant philodendron can.

It revived so well, so completely, that I have left it by the kitchen sink so that I can revel in its wondrous resilience every day. Yesterday, as I sighed contentedly in its general direction, I was struck by the fact that God is so much like my philodendron, minus the "yellow" and the "droopy" and "teetering on the edge" (okay, so bear with me ... it's an imperfect analogy.)

What He is, though, is this: Forgiving. Always there. Patient. Waiting for me to come back to Him. Knowing that I will. And offering me, in spite of all that is lacking in me, the transparent joy that comes from gazing in His general direction.