Quotes for a Wednesday: Fear and trials

The other day I mentioned the ways in which God's glory and earthly messiness are always intertwined for us.

Today I just want to share a couple of quotes about fear and trials:

Then, after an awful pause, the deep voice said, "Susan." Susan made no answer, but the others thought she was crying. "You have listened to fears, child," said Aslan. "Come, let me breathe on you. Forget them. Are you brave again?"

~~ C.S. Lewis, Prince Caspian

Everything comes from love, all is ordained for the salvation of man, God does nothing without this goal in mind.

~~ St. Catherine of Siena

(with thanks to mycatholic.com)

No, Facebook, I did not change my religious views

Facebook cracks me up.

I logged in to find this comment about my recent activity:

Karen changed her religious views.

Nuh-uh!

I did not!

I just updated my bio, because I had forgotten to include "Catholic."

So there.

Some people say Facebook makes them feel all high-school-y again.

Well, I'm taking it a step further, with my "Nuh-uhs" and "So theres" ... Facebook makes me feel like I'm in third grade.

So, Facebook, I'm rubber, you're glue ....

Anne-with-an-e's Confirmation (or, The Sacramental of a Bathroom Floor)

(For this reason, I remind you to stir into flame the gift of God that you have through the imposition of my hands. ~~ 2 Timothy 1:6

Last year, we attended a Confirmation (the same young lady who gave me the brilliant Zoo Pals idea) and three years ago, we attended her sister's Confirmation. What struck me each and every time was the combination of the mundane and the sublime.

Although sacraments are spiritually powerful gifts, amazing delivery methods for God's divine grace to make its way into our souls, they are always mixed up with the very real, the earthly stuff. A sacrament is itself a visible sign -- the use of an earthly thing, a tangible, sensible bit of the material world -- that somehow, by God's choosing, contributes to our sanctification.

The classic definition sums it up this way:

"Sacraments are outward signs of inward grace, instituted by Christ for our sanctification."

God works, in other words, through things. Through stuff, through people. And no matter how sublime the work, it is always intertwined with the weight of human existence.

The day before Anne's Confirmation, we were down to the final preparations before our out-of-town company was scheduled to arrive. Atticus had volunteered to do the last of the grocery shopping, and he planned to take all three girls with him, leaving me with a quiet house for an hour or so before the weekend plans kicked in. But, Anne suddenly didn't feel well enough to go shopping. She was hit with a monster headache, and lay down on the couch just as Atticus and the other two girls left.

I thought she probably just needed a short nap, but the next thing I knew she was feeling sick to her stomach. So, there I was, sitting on the bathroom floor with my poor sick daughter, and I wanted her to know that I was doing everything I could for her. But, what can you do for someone who's feeling sick? Other than a cool cloth for the forehead, and simply being there, there isn't always a lot to do. But, Anne turns to the Rosary in times of trouble, and so do I. So I emailed a quick prayer request to some friends, grabbed my Rosary, sat down on the bathroom floor with my daughter, and simply kept her company while I prayed for her.

I was reminded of someone else who prayed the Rosary in a bathroom, but Immaculee Ilibagiza prayed her Rosary for three months straight, while crammed into a tiny, hidden bathroom with seven other women, praying for her life, her family, her country and her would-be killers. And though just moments before I'd been worried about how a million little details of the weekend would play out, I was reminded of the thought I had just after I read Immaculee's wrenching book, Left to Tell: "Who am I to whine when I could be praying?"

So, I simply prayed. On a cold, bathroom floor, next to my daughter, I prayed the Rosary.

And when Anne felt well enough to go lie down, she did. She slept for over an hour, and when she got up, she felt much, much better, and the details of the weekend played out beautifully. All was well that night, and into the next day. Our friends arrived, we went to the Confirmation Mass and I watched the Archbishop lay his hands on my daughter's head. She was sealed with the gift of the Holy Spirit. And I was moved, exhilarated, thrilled, joyful ... so full of love for my daughter, my family, our dear friends, and our Lord.

Then we went out to eat.

Sounds silly, doesn't it? Proclaiming God's majesty and then talking about food? But it's not silly. It's all over Scripture, really. It comes straight from Him.

Jesus heals a little girl and then says, in His practical way, "Get her something to eat."

He rises from the dead, and while His apostles are still incredulous with joy, He basically says, "Hey, do you have anything around here a guy could eat?"

Sublime and mundane.
Divine and earthly.

We can't escape the mix on this earth. God comes down to us, wherever we are, and though we can feel His love, and catch glimpses of His power, we can't yet escape the shackles of the world. And so, He does the next best thing for us: He can make even a cold bathroom floor a sacramental, offering strength to get us through everything from our setbacks and inconveniences to terribly heavy crosses.

And so it goes. Incredulous joy is always followed by some food. Beauty is mixed with messiness and whine turns to prayer in all circumstances because, really, what else do we have?

And that's the story of my eldest daughter's Confirmation weekend. My beautiful, beloved daughter experienced the power and the glory of our beloved God:

For this reason, I remind you to stir into flame the gift of God that you have through the imposition of my hands. ~~ 2 Timothy 1:6

And then we ate pancakes.

Book review: A La Carte, by Tanita Davis

I loved this book.

(Be warned: there are spoilers below, so stop reading now if you don't want to know how it ends.)

I first "met" Tanita S. Davis via her YA lit/writing blog, Finding Wonderland, and through Poetry Friday posts. And though I knew she had a YA novel out (and another one on the way), as usual I was behind on that tower of books stacked by the bed. I recently settled in with this one, and was delighted that I did.

Seventeen-year-old Lainey's life isn't particularly exciting -- she lives with her mom, goes to school, and often hangs out and does her homework at the restaurant where her mom is a chef and co-owner. Lainey's hero is Julia Child, whom she calls "St. Julia" and Lainey dreams of having her own cooking show someday. Occasionally, she even gets to use her mother's restaurant as a test kitchen.

Descriptive passages detailing the colors and flavors, the smells and sounds of a kitchen (both commercial and at home) as well as the many recipes sprinkled throughout the book made me hungry and eager to try some of Lainey's creations.

But what I really loved was the relationships.

Lainey and Sim have been friends for years, and Lainey actually has a huge crush on her cute buddy. But lately Sim has been headed down a new path, taking some wrong turns. Lainey's not entirely sure what's going on with him, but as Sim's actions and choices unfold -- for us and for Lainey -- we see Lainey alternately thrilled and angry, happy to be needed but resentful of being used, and pulled in but pondering the possibility of pulling away.

What I really loved was the honesty, and Lainey's honest, youthful confusion. We can see that Lainey is strongly attracted to Sim, but she's ultimately smart enough not to cave in to that attraction. By the time Sim kisses her, it feels to us like more manipulation from Sim, who is trying to keep a good thing available to him. Lainey honestly acknowledges the "wow" of the kiss, but is able to see beyond it. She comes to see that Sim doesn't really value her as a complete human being. He has used her when she was convenient, and she faces that truth with sad but open eyes.

It's with some residual affection, but ultimately with raw honesty and courage that Lainey knows she must say good-bye to Sim for good.

The ending includes a subtly heartbreaking memory about a gingerbread house, so carefully crafted (both the gingerbread house and the narrative) that it brought me to tears.

That memory, though heartbreaking, is also hopeful, as Lainey looks to her future -- it's a future without Sim, and that is okay, she finally sees. He was never really what she wanted him to be anyway, no matter how strong her feelings felt, no matter how much she wanted him to be what she had imagined he was, or could be.

And that is a message our young girls need to hear (although the book doesn't come across as a "message" piece.) In this way, A la Carte is a bit of an anti-Twilight, offering the perspective that no matter how cute the bad boy is, no matter how powerful the attraction feels, there are other things to consider ....

like the rest of your life, and what you want that life to be.

Poetry Friday: Reading in Bed

This fun little children's poem captures the delight of nestling in with a good book.

Reading is a chief pleasure around here, and we've had lots of good pleasure floating around lately.

I just read The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobeto Ramona for the first time (and by the way, LWW should always be the first read in the series. Ignore those people who tell you to read The Magician's Nephew first. No. Nuh-uh. Don't.) Is there anything like that flash of recognition, that shine in a child's eyes when she hears Aslan, triumphant:

"Yes!" said a great voice behind their backs. "It is more magic!"

He's back! Oh, yes! She couldn't wait, then, to dive into Prince Caspian, which we're now halfway through (alas, the movie ... alas, it is not the book ....) and I foresee the entire series in my near future.

More reading fun with Ramona:

Last night, I sat on the couch, simply existing, until it was time to go pick Anne and Betsy up from an activity. I was exhausted from a busy day. Ramona wanted to "do something" but I had no energy to do anything but exist. I think existing is a lovely thing to do on the couch in the evening. But Ramona suggested a read-aloud with a twist ... she could read to me. I agreed. I could exist and listen at the same time.

She grabbed a Martha book and began to read aloud. Oh, can I tell you how my heart swooned to hear my little sprite read with such expression? To listen to her attempts at a lovely Scottish brogue? Heaven.

Other good stuff: Anne recently had a friend mention the "Wheel of Time" series and wants to look into it (opinions, anyone?)

Betsy can't wait for the new Warriors bookto arrive.

I hope to soon get reviews written up for things I've loved of late:

* Tanita Davis's A la Carte (a truly lovely book for teen girls)

*Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinkingby Malcolm Gladwell

*Mike Aquilina's new book, Angels of God: The Bible, the Church and the Heavenly Hosts

The delight of nestling in.

And, oh, yeah ... I was going to post a poem about it, too, wasn't I? Here it is, and the Poetry Friday round up is being hosted today Under the Covers -- which comfortably dovetails with reading in bed.


Reading in Bed
by Helen H. Moore

Oh, what could be better
Than reading in bed,
Or thinking about
All the books that you've read?

With someone who loves you,
A father, a mother,
A doll, or a pet,
Or a sister or brother,

A grandma, a grandpa,
An uncle, an aunt -
(Can you think of anything better?
I can't!)

While outside the sky
Is all twinkling with light,
From stars that shine down
As we sleep through the night.

Oh, what could be better
Than sleeping in bed,
When the books that you love
Fill the dreams in your head?

(With thanks to the Summa Mamas for leading me to this poem.)

How Anne-with-an-e's Confirmation Led Me to Buy Zoo Pals

Anne's Confirmation deserves its own post -- hopefully said post will be something beautiful and poignant and worthy of the sacrament.

This is not that post.

Today's post concerns the fact that I am co-directing a little youth choir musical about Noah's Ark.

By "co-directing" I mean that I:

• Wave my arms around a lot
• Clap and encourage children
• Tell them they are "Awesome!"
• Frown at the music director for being too nice to the children when they are behaving un-awesomely
  
• Plead for more rehearsals
• Pretend that I am Stanislavsky, throw myself on the couch and wail to my family, "I can't work with these people!"
• Remind myself that "these people" -- many of them, anyway -- are third graders
• Readjust my expectations
• Despair of ever figuring out how to quickly, very cheaply, create "animal hats" for twenty children
• Complain to our company, over Anne-with-an-e's Confirmation weekend, that I will never figure out the animal stuff before our performance which is scheduled to happen in about three seconds (okay, a week, but it feels like three seconds)
• Hear an epiphanic, orchestral piece and angels singing when one of our guests -- 14-year-old Anna -- says, "Why don't you just use those animal paper plates?"
• Purchase Zoo Pals and these things and get to work, after experimenting with various constructions on Betsy and Ramona's heads (and in between sticky bouts of covering Noah's Ark with contact paper, which, of course, Anne-with-an-e and I ran out of, because one roll of that stuff is never enough for anything, and coming up with a filmy set of dove wings, an olive branch and the trunk of a palm tree)
• Look at my day's work
• Think of Anna and sigh happily
  
• Have a glass of wine
• Go to bed

Because, y'know, I'm gonna need a little sleep before that performance rolls around in three seconds.

And that is the story of how Confirmation Led Me to Zoo Pals, which led to the return of my sanity.

Isn't the Holy Spirit amazing?


Thanks, Anna.

(I'm not sure I can offer equal thanks to Tim, who left the Gilligan's Island dvds behind ... but I can offer equal love, which I will and I do, in spite of Gilligan. And, Betsy and Ramona will chime in with the "thanks" for those ....)

Amazon.com: Reminding Me That I Wrote a Book

I woke up to find this in my Inbox:

Dear Amazon.com Customer,

We've noticed that customers who have purchased or rated A Mother's Rule of Life: How to Bring Order to Your Home and Peace to Your Soul by Holly Pierlot have also purchased The Rosary: Keeping Company with Jesus and Mary by Karen Edmisten. For this reason, you might like to know that The Rosary: Keeping Company with Jesus and Mary will be released on May 1, 2009. You can pre-order yours by following the link below.

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

Why, yes, thank you! I would like to know that!

Poetry Friday: Lurving Jon Sciezka

I lurve Jon Sciezka

Have lurved him since we found the highly lurvable Math Curse.

Lurve him enough to follow his Twitter feed in spite of the fact that it offers zero updates. That's wishful lurving, or wishful tweeting, or perhaps wishful stalking.

Anyway.

I want you to go read the poem he contributed -- 200 Typing Monkeys Almost Make It -- to Gregory's Thirty Poets in Thirty Days.

No sense in my trying to dig up new treasures when they're swirling all around you this month.

Go. Read. Becky has the round-up.

Writing with the Kids

I've been meaning to start a little blog for the kids' writing, a place where I can post things they're working on or have completed, or just things they'd like to share with others.

I have the beginnings of it here, at Writing with the Kids.

The first three posts are from Anne-with-an-e's "December Fan Fiction Challenge." She asked each of us to write a Harry Potter fan fiction based either on O. Henry's The Gift of the Magi, or on one of the HP characters recalling a Christmas memory. I must admit that I was busy in December and I kept putting it off, but when I finally sat down one evening to write a story, as a gift to Anne, it was such silly fun. So, be kind ... as fiction goes, mine's awful, but as a gift to my daughter, it was priceless. We read the stories to each other for the first time over Christmas Eve dinner.

I hope to update it soon with a little more from each of the girls, including Ramona.

My Newest Godson is Gorgeous!

Go tell Huck's mommy that you think so, too!

Couldn't you just scoop him up?

Oh, how I wish I could!

Why I Love Mad Libs

Ramona: Mommy, I beg of you! Can I please just finish this one before bedtime?

What would you have said?

Alone at My First Easter Vigil -- Part 2

Or, "In Which I Recount My History with the Easter Vigil"

Or, "In Which He Makes My Crooked Ways Straight"

Part 1 is here.

~~~~~

I left my first Easter Vigil knowing that despite my sadness over my husband's refusal to consider Catholicism, I had a steadfast companion. Jesus had not let me down, and the quiet exultation I felt while in His presence continued.

I attended my second Easter Vigil as a sponsor. Actually, as a neophyte, I had no business sponsoring someone else so soon, but no one knew better, and I was eager to help. My family was not really a part of Holy Week that year. Atticus stayed home with two-year-old Anne. I was very pregnant with Betsy, but otherwise, it was just Me and My Candidate. I reveled in sharing Holy Week with someone who was excited about it and full of questions.

The next year, I was on the RCIA team. Holy Week was again a time to share my excitement and joy with others -- candidates and catechumens. Still, no Atticus. He stayed home with our two very little girls.

I continued to be a part of the RCIA team the following year. I loved it. Really loved it -- listening to others' stories, teaching, answering questions, learning more all the time ... I loved it so much that when I began to feel that God was calling me away from it, I didn't want to listen to Him. He couldn't possibly want me to stop, could He?

But, the whisper I kept hearing was that I needed to pull back from "church work" ... pull back from witnessing to others, and witness in a different way -- in my own home. To my husband. I felt God nudging me to show Atticus that my love for him and for the family God had given us was my overriding call, my vocation, and the most important thing in our world.

And so, with a heavy heart I resigned from the team, at least temporarily. And when Holy Week rolled around that year, it felt very strange to me to be home on Holy Thursday night. Instead of the gorgeous Mass I had come to love, I was at home with my little girls, creating a "Holy Family meal" and coloring pictures of the Last Supper, and watching five-year-old Anne-with-an-e build a crucifix out of blocks. Instead of being absorbed in behind-the-scenes RCIA prep and busy-ness in those final days before the Easter Vigil, I was home, calm, present. Instead of being out late on Holy Saturday night with people Atticus didn't even know, I was at home with him. That year we went to Mass on Easter Sunday morning, as a family (though he was adamant that he was still not considering the Catholic Church; he was merely being courteous to me.)

I was also expecting another baby, though we lost the baby the month after Easter. I asked our baby to intercede for his father.

Then, later that summer, something changed.

Atticus and I had been having a lot of conversations about faith. He had been thinking, he said, about the nature of evil -- about how evil really comes down to being separated from God. I will never forget the moment when he said to me, "And I don’t think I want to be separated anymore. I want to be where you and the girls are."

I remember where I was sitting. I remember the tears that welled up in my eyes. I remember my disbelief ("I can't believe he believes!" I thought.) And, I remember cautiously imagining that we would become a Catholic family.

But, not so fast, Missy. Atticus assured me that what he meant was simply that he wanted to further explore things.

Hmm. I happened to know an RCIA team that could use another member. I grabbed the chance to rejoin the team and to let my husband "tag along" and listen in. The priest and the RCIA director were entirely open to allowing Atticus as an unofficial participant for as long as he liked. (It didn't hurt that the priest was the one who had suggested the year before that we both pray to St. Therese for Atticus's conversion.)

I've written before about the journey of that year.

The Easter Vigil of 2000 brought a joy into our lives that, at one time, I thought I'd never see. Five years after the Vigil in which I'd been received, Atticus came into the Church.

For the next few years, we sacrificed experiencing the majesty of the Vigil for the things that worked best for our little family. Our young daughters handled Mass on Easter Sunday morning better than a late Saturday night, so that was our tradition for awhile.

When Ramona was two years old, I decided to take the older girls to the Easter Vigil while Atticus stayed home with Ramona. Anne-with-an-e and Betsy were excited to attend, as I'd been preparing them for it, and teaching them about what they would see.

The following year, when Ramona was three, we tried the Vigil with the whole family. It worked fairly well, except that Ramona slept through the whole thing, and then was up for hours after we got home. (Not so good if the Easter Bunny needs to come to your house that night.) The next year, when she was four, all the pieces fell into place.

Our whole family now attends the Vigil together, no one falls asleep, we all look forward to the baptisms, my daughters try to predict when I'll start crying, Atticus and I reminisce, and then we head home and celebrate with delectable food and drink.

~~~~~

There were so many times when I had no idea what God would do next -- times I couldn't see through the dark tunnel to the light at the end. I had to walk in blindness until He would lead me to the next step.

That's what faith is -- a series of steps in the dark, with wholehearted trust that my Guide is leading and won't let me fall.

When I converted alone and lost unity with my husband, when I left a ministry I loved, when I lost babies and arguments and every sense of firm footing ... God was at work.

I just had to trust.

And to hold on, with all my strength, to the knowledge that I was not, am not, alone.

~~~~~~~~~~

"I will lead the blind on their journey; by paths unknown I will guide them. I will turn darkness into light before them, and make crooked ways straight. These things I do for them, and I will not forsake them."

~~ Isaiah 42:16

"For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for good and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope."


~~ Jeremiah 29:11

Happy Easter Again!

And again and again, through the Octave of Easter! It's an eight-day mega-celebration, and a 50 day party when all's said and done.

Yes, we're back to real life today, but we're still celebrating. There's still plenty of chocolate and cake, the Easter decorations went up on Sunday (don't you always wonder if the neighbors think you're out of sync? Just as they're pulling the decorations down, yours are going up), and, we can say Alleluia again!

Sometimes the kids and I just sigh and wish that the whole world lived on the liturgical calendar. Wouldn't it be lovely if everyone saw this as the beginning of an enormous party?

My goal is always to hang on to the awe of the empty tomb.

We had a wonderful weekend -- I spent part of it previewing books for the kids and will be back with reviews as soon as I can. I also want to get back to running through my history with the Easter Vigil.

Saturday night was lovely, as always, and the Easter Bunny was good to my children.

Ramona remarked that he must shop at Target. Smart bunny.



Painting: Bouguereau, The Three Marys at the Tomb

Why do you look for the living among the dead?

"He is not here ...
He is risen."

~~ Luke 24:5-6

Alleluia!
He is risen indeed!
Alleluia, alleluia!




A happy, blessed Easter to you all!

She does, and she will

Yesterday, Anne-with-an-e and I were looking over some instructions for her upcoming Confirmation.

Me: Did you read that over? Basically, you say "I do" a lot.

Anne (with mock terror): What if I forget what to say? What if I can't memorize my part?

Me: (appropriate Mom laughter at my witty daughter ....)

Anne: I mean, if I can't memorize "I do," that could set me up for big problems on my wedding day.

Alone at My First Easter Vigil

The nice thing about being in your late forties and having a blog is that the blog can step up to the plate and pinch hit for your brain. When I can't remember something, I turn to the always-reliable search feature.

Last night, we were trying to remember how old Ramona was when we first took her to the Easter Vigil. I couldn't access the memory so I turned to the Search box and found out she was three. This will be our fourth year to attend the Easter Vigil as a family. And that has me thinking back to what Easter used to be like around here.

My history of attending the Vigil is a history of growing up and growing into my life as a Catholic and as a Catholic wife and mother.

*****

The year I was received into the Church, I attended the Vigil alone. Well, no, not entirely alone -- my lovely sponsor was with me, of course. Her name was Carolyn. We had first met the night they told me she would sponsor me. I felt so alone that night, so pitiful. A stranger as a sponsor? How weird is this, I remember thinking. The whole class must feel sorry for me.

I had wanted my friend, Jack, to be my sponsor, but a weekly two-hour drive for RCIA classes was impractical, so Carolyn was assigned to me and slowly we got to know each other.

So, I had Carolyn at the Vigil, and Jack came, too. And he brought along a friend, just to keep him company on the two-hour drive to the Church (and for the two hours he would drive home that night.)

Carolyn, Jack, and someone I barely knew. Atticus stayed home with Anne-with-an-e, who was about 18 months old. He didn't want to stop me from becoming a Catholic, but he didn't particularly want to be a part of it, either.

That first Easter Vigil was a frightening, incandescent event. Fear and awe mingled with an odd detachment, an observation of all that I was doing, of what was happening. At the last minute, I was tapped on the shoulder and asked to be one of the candidates who would help to carry the gifts up to the priest. I remember shaking a little as I carried the decanter of wine. This is going to become the Precious Blood of Jesus, I thought. And I will consume Him -- Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity. And I am here alone.

No, not alone! I scolded myself. Your friend is here, and all these people are here. And God is here.

And yet, in a specific way, because I am a married woman, I felt alone. My husband was not there.

When I received Holy Communion for the first time that night, I did not experience magic. I didn't instantly change, nor did my feelings. I was not suddenly transported to a new place of giddy joy. Something I wished for (spiritual unity in my marriage) was still missing. And yet, I felt ... what? Grounded. Firm. Certain. I did not have a single regret about what I was doing.

I wasn't sure how I could feel quiet exultation and deep sadness at the same time, but I did. I knew this was the right thing.

Perhaps it's because I knew, down to my bones, this:

I was not alone.

(To be continued later today, I hope ....)

~~~~~

Updated: Part II is here. 

Rewrite the Ending of Your Life's Script

Sometimes I don't take the time to blog about something because I assume everyone else already knows about it (I'm generally late to blog parties), or because someone else is doing a better job of discussing it.

But recently I was reminded of the great work being done by Catholics Come Home.

Both Margaret at Minnesota Mom and Mary at Not Strictly Spiritual have recently directed readers to the site.

I will, too.

Go here to see a short, powerful video.

Go ahead. I'll wait.

If that didn't hit you in some way, on some level, I daresay you are a pod person.

Now, you can go here to see some real stories.

Here, if you used to be Catholic.

Here if you are not Catholic, but would like to know more.

And, here if you are Catholic and would like to help.

Then, take the time to blog about it.

A Meaningful Lent, Part 12 1/2: Holy Week for me

I haven't talked a lot in this series about what I've been doing personally for this holy season, and I won't change that today, except to say that it's been a strange, unexpected Lent in several ways. I've found God handing me things for my consideration that I didn't expect to consider.

But, such surprises usually make for a better, stronger Lent than one of my own construction. And, as is always the case with unexpected, if difficult, gifts from the hand of God, I have a renewed and deepened sense of His control over my life, of His permissive will, and of His steadfast love.

Holy Week for me, on top of Mom-Duties, and the busy-ness, will include a final dive into spiritual reading, and a focus on the Triduum. Could I ask for more?

*****

Remember that you have only one soul; that you have only one death to die; that you have only one life ... If you do this, there will be many things about which you care nothing.

~~ St. Teresa of Avila

*****

Do not dismayed daughters, at the number of things which you have to consider before setting out on this divine journey, which is the royal road to heaven. By taking this road we gain such precious treasures that it is no wonder if the cost seems to us a high one.

The time will come when we shall realize that all we have paid has been nothing at all by comparison with the greatness of our prizes.

~~ St. Teresa of Avila

Bits and Pieces of Our Days

We've been busy!

In the past week or so, we:

• Got the whole family over to help with Kids Against Hunger. Always a good thing. The director shared the full-length version of this Rob Bell video, which offers the kind of statistics I often share with my kids, and want them to be aware of. I hope they will never lose sight of the fact that we are rich, and most of the world is decidedly not.
  

• Got everyone into the dentist. Betsy said later, "I don't see the appeal of being a dentist. Except, maybe ... pulling teeth." When I said, "Yuck!" she replied, "Well, you know how I like taking things apart."
  

• Also had a visit to the orthodontist, wherein no one said anything that elicited the reaction, "Yuck."
  

• Had choir practice -- I'm helping direct a youth choir musical. We have two rehearsals left (with a hefty two-week gap between practices, due to Holy Week. Third graders do not do well with two-week gaps, and we have third-graders aplenty in the cast.) I. AM. NOT. READY. But, ummm ... I'm sure the kids are. Yeah, that's the ticket. "It'll all come together, Mom," my encouraging girls keep telling me.
  

• Celebrated a baptismal birthday. Huzzah!

• Got to Stations of the Cross, and heard the most sublime presentation of Heinrich's Schutz's The Seven Last Words of Christ. Quite beautiful.
  

• Got to confession.

• Met the people for whom we've been praying all year, our RCIA prayer partners.

And then there was the usual schooly stuff, read-alouds, friends over, and the like. I squeezed some writing in there somewhere, too, and I'm trying to preview a few books for the girls.

Occasionally, people ask me how I do all that I do. I can only scoff, as there are many people who do far more than I do, and do it far more efficiently.

For the record, the answer is simple: "Sometimes I think my head will explode."

But, it never does. And that's always a good thing.

A Meaningful Lent, Part 12: Holy Week

A Collection of Reminders:

• The Triduum ... Kidterrupted (finding the best approach to Holy Week -- for you and your family -- with young children.)

• A past post, on "paying attention" this week.

• Check on all the usual suspects: clothes for the children? Shoes that fit? Tights? Things for Ramona to do before the Easter Vigil begins. Baskets. Eastro-turf. Candy, candy, candy and candy.

• Waterproof mascara

• Eggs. Boil or prep them early so that when it's time to dye them I do not fall into sins of anger.

• Make butterflies to replace those Lenten caterpillars on Holy Saturday night.

• Wish our priests a happy anniversary on the commemoration of Christ's institution of the priesthood (Holy Thursday.) Thank God for the gift of the priesthood.

Avoiding God's Gaze

During Lent, and especially during Holy Week, Atticus and I frequently recall the gifts and graces that led to our conversions as we examine the ongoing conversion that is known as "life." This post is from last year:

That very day, the first day of the week, two of Jesus’ disciples were going to a village seven miles from Jerusalem called Emmaus ~~ Luke 24:13

A year or two before Atticus came into the Church, I was at Mass one Sunday and heard this Gospel reading. I stayed after to pray that day, and I poured my hurting heart out to God:

"When will he be open, Lord? When?"

I prayed a bit more, and cried a little bit, then sat and tried to listen. What happened next was not something I heard, but something I saw and felt inside:

And it happened that while they were conversing and debating, Jesus himself drew near and walked with them, but their eyes were prevented from recognizing him. ~~ Lk 24:15-16

I had an image of Atticus ... Jesus was holding onto him, His hands on Atticus' shoulders, trying to catch his eye. Atticus looked away: right, left, anywhere but straight ahead, into the Eyes of Jesus. He was avoiding God's gaze. I knew that trick; I had done it myself.

And then I knew the answer to "when."

It was only a matter of time.

Jesus was that close to my husband. And it was only a matter of time before Atticus stopped looking away, could no longer avoid Him, would look up and gaze straight ahead, into the eyes he would recognize as those of his Lord. Their eyes would lock, and that would be it.

My tension slipped away. It might be months. It might be years. But Jesus had His hands on Atticus. I knew it in my heart and in my gut.

Sometime after that, I don't really remember the exact timing, Atticus did indeed surrender and looked straight into the eyes of God.

And it happened that, while he was with them at table, he took bread, said the blessing, broke it, and gave it to them. With that their eyes were opened and they recognized him
~~ Luke 24:30-31

When Atticus received his first Holy Communion, he recognized his life and God's claim on it in a new way. I remember marveling at all that he felt and sensed that Easter Vigil night, at all that we discussed. He knew what he was leaving behind and he knew -- as much as any of us can "know" -- what he was gaining.

Then the two recounted what had taken place on the way and how he was made known to them in the breaking of bread.
~~ Luke 24:35

We recount what has taken place, and how He was made known to us in the breaking of the bread.

And our marveling continues.

(Painting: Christ on the Road to Emmaus, Roelant Roghman, 17th c.)

Poetry Friday? Poetry Month!

In honor of National Poetry Month, I'm directing you (in verse, of course) to a few other sites.

Have a lovely, lilting, literary day and a mad, merry, marvelous month!



Sightseeing
by Karen Edmisten

It's Poetry Month
and I can see
rhyme in the air
surrounding me

Wiley is busy
tweeting in verse
Gregory's posting
various firsts

Wrung Sponge is giving us
loads of great links:
poetic offerings!
Heaven, methinks.

Sara will share with us
quotes from the biz
She's letting us know
what poetry is.

Liz is haiku-ing
and why shouldn't she?
Haiku's sublime,
always capturing me.

Jama's amazing.
There's feasting galore
at Alphabet Soup:
linky goodness and more.

Tricia will feature
the writers of verse
Such riches, such treasures!
I'll go grab my purse.

Oh, wait -- It's all free!
So, c'mon, join the fun!
This Poetry Fest
is for everyone.

*****
One more thing I must share:

Poets & Writers and Daily Lit have teamed up to bring you a Master of Verse every day in April. And it's free! You'll find the daily poem here, at Poets & Writers, or by subscribing here, at Daily Lit to receive a poem a day in your Inbox.

*****

Today's Poetry Friday round up is at ayuddah.net.

A sneak peek at my book's cover!

Last fall, I mentioned here that my writing path has been circuitous and unpredictable, but that it led me to writing this book:

The Rosary: keeping company with Jesus and Mary, soon to be published by Servant Books.

It's a little book about what the Rosary is, what it isn't, and how to more effectively fit the prayer into your day.

While the book is already listed on Amazonit's not actually available for shipment yet (but, I couldn't wait any longer to share this cover design with you.)

The release will be in May, the month of Mary.

I Loathe Poetry

April Fool's.

*****

Here's the poetry news for April -- not the cruellest month at all, but a month to mix memory and desire:

Check out the April Poem-a-Day challenge at Poetic Asides. The challenge is not to read or share a poem a day, but to write one.

Here is today's first challenge, which is to write "an origin poem."

*****

Elsewhere in the blogosphere, Gregory at Gotta Book is posting 30 Poets in 30 Days (and be sure to check out all the links to that post, as they include lots of other happenings for National Poetry Month.) Gregory writes:

Every day in April, I'll be posting a previously unpublished poem by a different poet.

And the list is impressive:

Arnold Adoff, Jaime Adoff, Rebecca Kai Dotlich, Douglas Florian, Betsy Franco, Kristine O'Connell George, Charles Ghigna, Nikki Giovanni, Joan Bransfield Graham, Nikki Grimes, Avis Harley, Mary Ann Hoberman, Lee Bennett Hopkins, X. J. Kennedy, Bruce Lansky, Julie Larios, J. Patrick Lewis, Pat Mora, Kenn Nesbitt, Linda Sue Park, Ann Whitford Paul, Gregory K. Pincus, Jack Prelutsky, Adam Rex, Jon Scieszka, Joyce Sidman, Marilyn Singer, April Halprin Wayland, Janet Wong, and Jane Yolen.

Here's today's entry, a poem by Jack Prelutsky.

H/t to Melissa Wiley, and lots of others in the Kidlitosphere (a word Melissa coined, by the way!)

*****

More on National Poetry Month here (re. the Academy of American Poets) and here (at Poets.org, re. the Free Verse Project.)