Revisiting the Pirate Prayer

Because it's worth revisiting, on a regular basis, don't you think?

~~~~~

(This explanation of the value of "A-R-R-R" prayer first ran in 2009.) 

I really need to be accountable. That's why I have Atticus. And children. And a cat. And a scale. And a best friend. And a spiritual director.

This weekend, I got to see my best friend and my spiritual director. I saw Atticus, the children and the cat, too, of course, but you hear about them every day, so let's move on. The best friend and the director live in Omaha, so I don't see them as often. Saturday, I had the chance to see them both, so it was a good day for accountability.

You don't really need to know, and you probably don't care, about the things I was struggling with. Like most of us, I have the same things arise again and again. My spiritual director compares God's work on these issues -- anyone's issues -- to an onion. God peels away a layer or two at a time, helping us to get closer to the core.  My best friend has always compared it to an upward spiral: our struggles keep coming up, repeating themselves, which can be discouraging. But we are being pulled upward.

Both analogies work on the same level: we're making progress, but it's slow. Sometimes painful. Sometimes we don't feel as if we've gotten very far.

When I was an atheist, I assumed that people who had conversions were all like St. Paul: instantly different in every way.  What I've learned, as a Christian, is that some things are instantly different (let's face it, to become a Catholic is to adopt some rather dramatic changes in one's life) but other things are lifelong learning experiences. Core sins or ways of being take time to change.  Most likely, though the substance of the struggles is the same, the accidents, or the way in which those struggles manifest, is very different when we are 30 or 40 or 50 than it was when we were 15 or 20 years old.

I like to take the spiral analogy and visualize it even further. I picture the spiral as something very tightly, painfully wound at the bottom -- wound so tightly it can barely be moved or untwisted. But, as God' work begins, the spring begins to loosen. And as it is unwound, the spiral opens, and widens, and moves ever upward, widening our perspective of it as well.  So, as we move upward on this spiraling, expanding path, we get a better view, a clearer and wider sense of the things we're untangling and dealing with.

I share this because if you are ever discouraged by the fact that you seem to revisit the same sins or the same patterns of behavior repeatedly, I hope you won't despair. Compare yourself to where you were five years ago with the same sin. What about ten years ago?  Do you handle it differently?  If you're striving to seriously live your faith life, my guess is that you do handle it differently. A particular temptation or inclination might still be there, but you're probably approaching it in new and better ways all the time.

Does an alcoholic stop wanting to drink? Usually not. Does a recovering alcoholic stay away from alcohol? Yes. It's the same thing with all of our sins and temptations. We're still the same people, but the ways in which we live and behave do change, with God's grace. Sometimes we even stop wanting the drink, the sin, the temptation. God can transform us that completely.

Having said all that, I'm rerunning something that I need to revisit regularly and so I'm assuming you do, too. It's what my director called the "A-R-R-R" method of prayer, and what I then dubbed pirate prayer. All you have to remember is "ARRR" (but you don't have to add "Matey" or do anything that makes you feel really foolish. You can even eschew my silly pirate label and call it something respectable, such as "a method of prayer for those of us who enjoy acronyms.")

ARRR stands for:

Acknowledge
Relate
Receive
Respond

These steps in prayer are especially helpful to me when I'm responding to something with a great deal of emotion. At times, I find (or my spiritual director oh-so-gently points out) that I've intellectually sifted through a problem, but I'm still reacting strongly to the situation. Intellect is not enough. It's time to take it to God in prayer, and "ARRR" helps me in this way:

Acknowledge

Acknowledge what I'm feeling -- what I'm really feeling, not what I think I should feel, what I wish I could feel, what I think God wants me to feel. Acknowledge -- to myself -- my true feelings. No matter how irrational, unjustifiable or unpleasant they may be.

Relate 

Hand those feelings over to God. Tell Him everything -- tell Him what I've honestly recognized in myself. Lay it down at His feet. Give it utterly and completely to Him.

Receive

Receive what God has to offer me in return. Is He calling me to forgiveness? To healing? To action? To grieving? Be open to what He offers. (This may not come right away. Be patient.)

Respond

This is self-explanatory. What did I receive from God, and how will I put that into practice, into action?

These steps don't always occur as neatly as I've spelled them out. The "Acknowledge and Relate" stages may stretch out over many moments or sessions of prayer. Sometimes I find that I have to acknowledge over and over again what I'm really feeling about something before I'm ready to move on. So, the "Acknowledge and Relate" stages may include tears or times of simply pouring my heart out to our loving God. Because I have to empty myself of my self before I'm ready to receive anything from the Lord.

But, I also have to remember that I can't get stuck in the "Acknowledge and Relate" stages. Reminding myself that I'm in the middle of a process is so helpful. When I've really and truly given up to God all that I've been holding on to, He will pour out new graces that I'll then be ready to receive. Knowing that I'm only two steps into a process wards off despair and nurtures hope. And it keeps me from stagnating in self pity or sadness.

I know that there will be gifts to receive, and that He will give me the strength to respond to them.

"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." (Phil. 4:13)

School Supplies, Serendipity, Ice Cream, and Tears

Last night I told my sister a story she'd never heard before. We were talking about the ways God sometimes seems to drop someone into your life at the right time, and about how beautiful and surreal it can feel, how it often leaves us speechless.

The following story is from ten years ago this week. Anne-with-an-e was 12, Betsy was 10, and Ramona was 4.

Enjoy ... and cry ... and hold on tight to someone you love:

~~~~~

Yesterday we went shopping for school supplies. After picking up a few essentials, and because we were celebrating the fact that none of us had cavities (this was a known fact, not a guess, as we'd been to the dentist in the morning) I decreed it to be an Ice Cream for Lunch day.

We stopped for our treats, and settled down to enjoy them. As the girls were slurping their way through Oreo and Reese's Peanut Butter Cup-laced concoctions, an elderly man approached our table.

"I just wanted to say," he said rather slowly, "that you just have some very nice girls there, and you all remind me of our family a number of years back. We had three girls, too."

I responded with something like, "Isn't that nice?" and said it was kind of him to compliment the girls. Then he went on to say, "I've got kind of a sad story, though ...."

Oh, no, I thought, who are you, and what's coming next?

"We, um," he said, looking troubled. "We lost our youngest daughter to cancer."

Oh, my. I was jolted but managed to relay my sympathy. I asked when it had happened, thinking it must've been years ago.

"Just last month," he said, tearing up. "She was 41. I was there when she died. And it just ...."

He trailed off, as tears filled his eyes. (Mine too.)

"I'm so sorry," I said feebly. I looked at Anne, who was also tearing up.

He continued. "She had the Lord in her life and she told me that. She said she wasn't afraid ... so, you know, that's my consolation. But," he choked, "it just tears you up inside."

"I can't even imagine," I whispered.

The surrealness of this scene didn't occur to me at the time. Somehow it seemed perfectly right that I was sitting there, listening to this stranger who stood next to my table as he shared his grief with a family who was willing to listen.

He shook his head, as if to collect his thoughts, and said, "I just ... I really wanted to stop and say something to you, because I just saw that you look like such a nice, happy family. I saw your three girls talking and laughing, and I thought, 'Why there's Suzanne and Maureen and Ginger!' Just like my girls ...."

He shook his head again, and since I seemed unable to say anything at that point, he finished up by saying, "I just wanted to say that you all just reminded me of our family, and I could tell that you have somethin' special. You know, not everyone has that these days ... it's a rotten world, and not everyone has what you have ... and so, I just wanted to say that."

Through a few more tears, I thanked him. I told him again how sorry I was that he had lost his daughter, and that I appreciated his kindness in taking the time to stop and talk to us.

"God bless you," I said softly, feeling once again that my words were sorely inadequate.

When he left, Anne-with-an-e was crying. I comforted her and said that although his story was a sad one, and that he missed his daughter very much, it was so comforting that they had their faith, and that we have ours. I told the girls I was glad we were there -- glad we could listen to a man who needed to talk about the daughters he loves so much. But, also, his little visit to our table was a gift to me, I said. I was touched that he could see how much we love one another, and touched that he took the time to say it.

When we got home, I told Atticus about it -- about how it felt as if an angel had stopped to talk to us. This angel reminded me of our abundant blessings, our abundant love for one another ... of all that's really important.

Then, Atticus said, "Do you remember that last phone call we got for the Rosary Crusade? It was about a month ago. They asked us to pray for a couple who had just lost their 40-something daughter to cancer."

I had forgotten, but Atticus was right.

Though I can't know for certain, this stranger who had felt compelled to approach an ice-cream-eating mother and her three daughters was quite possibly the man for whom I had prayed anonymously last month.

And once again, I feel awed by and unworthy of the love and mercy of such a God as we have. He intertwines our lives in ways we cannot predict, often do not see, and most certainly cannot fully comprehend on this side of heaven.

Serendipity? Such a lovely and whimsical word for grace.

I'll Be On Jen Fulwiler's Show on Friday...

...to talk about her new (free!) ebook, The Our Father, Word by Word. 

A few years ago, Jen put together a series for her blog in which a variety of writers took turns reflecting--word by word, of course--on this ancient prayer. Now, Jen has pulled all the posts together and published them in an easy-to-read ebook format. You can get a free copy of it here, at Jen's website. 

I'll be talking with Jen tomorrow about my contribution, "Name." 

Tune in to The Jennifer Fulwiler Show, SiriusXM satellite radio, Channel 129, on Friday, July 8, at 2:20 central time to join us! 

More details about Jen's show and how to listen are here. 

Talking With Sarah Reinhard About Her New Book and the Rosary

The lovely, prolific, kind, and funny Sarah Reinhard asked me to do a brief interview about my reflection on the word "hour" in her new book, Word by Word: Slowing Down With the Hail Mary. Sarah invited forty people to contribute reflections on each word of the Hail Mary. The result was first a great blog series and now a great devotional book.

Find out more about Word by Word here, on Sarah's blog, and more about the rest of Sarah's wonderful books here.

My chat with Sarah is here, at CatholicMom.com.

5 Things You Can Do to Model Joy and Optimism For Your Kids

It's an ugly world out there. I don't even have to sum up headlines for you -- you can just pick the one that depresses you the most and we'll go from there.

When all the news everywhere seems bad and the future seems precarious, what do we do? And what do we tell our children?

My instinct is to look for the good (which is kind of funny, since by nature I'm a melancholic INFJ, or, in Inside Out Speak, the character of Sadness.)

Things have always been dire. From the time Moses despaired over the ingratitude of the Israelites ("Please do me the favor of killing me at once!") to the first-pope-elect who denied Jesus not once, not twice, but three times, to the Church Militant (which has regularly fallen down on fighting the good fight), to each of us sinners in our fallen state ... the history of humanity is the history of a mess.

But kids are basically optimistic by nature and they're always looking forward to the Next Great Thing, so I like to try to help mine find it. Hope, after all, is one of the theological virtues:

"The virtue of hope responds to the aspiration to happiness which God has placed in the heart of every man; it takes up the hopes that inspire men's activities and purifies them so as to order them to the Kingdom of heaven; it keeps man from discouragement; it sustains him during times of abandonment; it opens up his heart in expectation of eternal beatitude. Buoyed up by hope, he is preserved from selfishness and led to the happiness that flows from charity." (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1818)

With that in mind, here are five steps on the road to Joy and Optimism, aka Hope:

1. Remind Yourself and Your Kids What True Joy Is 

And it's not the stuff of this earth -- it's not about jobs, cars, money, success. (There is joy to be found here on earth -- witness coffee and books -- but it's not the main event.)

There will always be pain, challenges, and difficulties in this earthly life. Despite the struggles, the constant disappointments, the inevitable suffering, there is the joy that is my faith. It's something bigger than and different from happiness. It's the firm belief and the reason-defying knowledge that there's something more out there -- that He is out there -- and that everything He allows for me is meant for my good.

He is here with me. There's nothing more joy-inspiring than that sure knowledge.

2. Remind Yourself and Your Kids That Jesus Started the Church and the Holy Spirit Is Guiding It -- i.e., He's Got Things Covered

And so I say to you, you are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it. Matt. 16:18

Free will, by its nature, allows the existence of evil and evil choices. That has been true since Adam and Eve, and it will be true as long as time exists. There will be many crosses to bear in this life, but we can't lose sight of eternal life, our final, and ultimately our only, goal.

"Hope is the theological virtue by which we desire the kingdom of heaven and eternal life as our happiness, placing our trust in Christ's promises and relying not on our own strength, but on the help of the grace of the Holy Spirit." (CCC 1817)

The gates of hell will not prevail.

What am I doing to help build up the Church, this incredible gift, that Christ gave me?

3. Remind Yourself and Your Kids That Prayer is the Best Reminder 

"Hope is expressed and nourished in prayer, especially in the Our Father, the summary of everything that hope leads us to desire." (CCC 1820)

When facing a trial, when listening to the news, when pondering evil, when healing from pain, when wondering what to do ... pray. Remind your kids to pray. Stop what you're doing and pray. Pray alone, pray with them. Remind them to pray for a strengthening of their own faith, for your family's faith and unity, for all sinners (including ourselves), for the church, for the pope, for the world.

Remind them that prayer drives away hate and strengthens love.


4. Remind Yourself and Your Kids To Be Grateful (Especially When Things Are Going Wrong.) 

It's so easy to complain, and so easy to let our kids see us do it. I fail at this a lot, but when I'm being mindful, I actively search for things to be grateful for. When life is chaotic and I'm exasperated, it's helpful to seek out one tiny part of the situation that I can count as something good (or at least as something that could have been worse.)

For every time I ask Jesus, "Why do You allow ....?" He replies, "This is why, and here's why you can thank Me in the moment."  Or, if He isn't making the "why" of it clear, I can still say "Thank you" anyway. He always has His reasons.

Say all of this stuff out loud to your kids.


5. Look to the Gospel 

The Good News is simply, as St. Augustine said, this:

"Wake up, O man! For your sake God became man!"

When we remember that earth-shattering and humbling fact, then we can stop wringing our hands  and just get to work. Do corporal and spiritual works of mercy. Love our families. Give to the poor. Learn and live our faith.

As Pope Francis said, “Everyone is invited to enter this door, to go through the door of faith, to enter into His life, and to allow Jesus into their lives, so that he may transform them, renew them, and give them full and lasting joy."

~~~~~

Recently, something was going wrong around here (I can't even remember what it was -- nothing horrible, but just something really frustrating) and Betsy said, "Well, there's a bright side! At least we can be grateful for--"

I cut her off and said, "Why are you so chipper about this? I'm so annoyed."

"Hey," she said, "You raised me. I get this from you."

Model and embrace the joy and hope and your kids -- I'm guessing from experience? -- will have no choice but to do the same.

"Our Eyes Should Be Open"

I just haven't had time lately.

I'm not complaining. Life is good and busy, and the busy-ness is all of the good variety. I just feel as if I haven't had time lately to sit down with my friends (you!) and have a cup of coffee and chat about what's going on.

Late June and these first weeks of July simply flew. We got back from a trip to Oklahoma and Arkansas (visits to my side of the family) and soon after that came a speaking engagement at a homeschooling conference in Omaha, and no sooner had we returned home from that than our friends from Florida came to stay for a few days. And whenever I haven't been traveling or asking Atticus what he's cooking our guests for dinner, I've been working on a book that is due to the publisher very soon.

Today is Sunday, right? (I've lost track of days.) Sabbath rest, and we all need it. I'm sitting in my room (which doubles as my office on workdays, but today it's just a haven) with my laptop, and I can hear nothing from the living room. People are reading or napping or scrolling. I just now turned on the air conditioner, because it's been such a lovely day.

I keep meaning to write about the Filled With Joy conference in Omaha because it really was filled with joy, and it felt like such a privilege to be a part of it. We had two of our daughters with us (one of them was at a Steubenville conference), and Friday night was just fun family time and burgers and shakes for dinner. Something happened to all of us, though, on Friday night in the hotel room. We're a family prone to insomnia, but this was ridiculous. This was like some kind of Twilight Zone episode or a "Before" shot in a commercial for Excedrin PM. No one was dropping off, and by Saturday morning, I was running on an "I kinda dozed off a couple of times" level of sleep.

How am I going to get through this conference?

I was so cranky that I was growling at everything, including air, and everyone, including my beloved family. It didn't help that I had just spilled hot coffee on my pajamas and then almost washed my wedding ring down the bathroom sink. Atticus left the room to go jump on a treadmill (no surprise -- I would have run from me, too). I grabbed my iPod and opened my Breviary app.

It was the feast day of St. Benedict, and I read these words:

Second reading

From the Rule of Benedict, abbot

Put Christ before everything

My first talk of the day was to be about a homeschooling mom's prayer life. In that talk, I stress that the reason I do what I do -- everything I do -- is Christ.

Then I read:

Whenever you begin any good work you should first of all make a most pressing appeal to Christ our Lord to bring it to perfection; 

Oh, this is getting even better, I thought. Maybe I should incorporate this quote into my talk ... maybe I need to share about the sleep deprivation ... about the way the Liturgy of the Hours always speaks to me ... especially when I desperately need it to.

A quiet voice (not a real voice -- I'd love to say that it was a real voice, or that God sounds like Alan Rickman or something, but that wasn't the case. It was just a feeling....) told me, No, you don't need to use that quote. Just hold on to it.

So I did. And I stowed away the idea that if it came up, if I felt truly compelled to share about the rotten night I'd had, I would. I would definitely talk about the way the prayers of the Breviary speak to me, would probably even mention that I had felt spoken to that morning, because I had gone on to read this:

So we should at long last rouse ourselves, prompted by the words of Scripture: Now is the time for us to rise from sleep. Our eyes should be open to the God-given light, 

and this:

Just as there exists an evil fervor, a bitter spirit, which divides us from God and leads us to hell, so there is a good fervor which sets us apart from evil inclinations and leads us toward God and eternal life. Monks [and wives and mothers, I thought] should put this fervor into practice with an overflowing love: that is, they should surpass each other in mutual esteem, accept their weaknesses, either of body or of behavior, with the utmost patience; and vie with each other in acceding to requests. No one should follow what he considers to be good for himself, but rather what seems good for another.

and this:

Let them put Christ before all else;

I was ready. Another cup of coffee (unspilled this time), some breakfast. Grace was rescuing me. Conference time.

I was the first speaker, and delivered my prayer talk. I alluded to my more-than-satisfactory conversation with God that morning, but didn't give details. Afterward, during Q &A, a woman asked if I would share what specifically had touched me. I had to laugh, because here was the moment in which I felt compelled to share about the bad night, the insomnia, my crabbiness, and how the words of St. Benedict (minus any specific quotes) had soothed my spirit.

But, remember that St. Benedict quote that I considered adding to my talk? (Of course you do -- it was only a few paragraphs ago.) When Suzie Andres began her talk, immediately following mine, she opened with that same quotation, a quotation she had planned to use all along. (I guess there was a reason I was discouraged from stealing it from her.)

And the whole day went that way -- our talks wove in and out of each other, synchronizing so delightfully that if I hadn't known it, I would have thought we'd coordinated remarks.

Our eyes should be open to the God-given light. 

I loved this conference. Huge kudos and thanks to Regina, Kris, and Maureen, all of whom poured countless hours and endless sacrifices into making it run smoothly and beautifully.

And now, because it's Sunday, I think it's nap time.

Getting Prayer Back on Track

I'll be on Relevant Radio's Morning Air this morning at 7 a.m. central, talking about prayer, and about St. Ignatius's Examen of Consciousness.

The article by Fr. George Aschenbrenner that I'll be referring to can be found here, and here is a short guide to making the examen part of your day.

School and Unschool and Everything In Between

What we've been doing:

* For Ramona's book club we just finished reading Marie McSwigan's Snow Treasure. It was slow going for her at first, but once we got into the meat of it, she enjoyed it. Here's a link to my quick review from 2006. (That was waaaay back when I read it to my then 10- and 12-year olds, and Ramona was just a pre-schooler. And here's a link to loads of other WWII related reading for younger readers.)

* Ramona has a new pen pal. Snail mail lives! We use this stuff called paper, pen, envelopes, and stamps. If you haven't tried them, you should give it a whirl. It's revolutionary!

* Science for Ramona right now is mostly National Geographic Kids and Kids Discover. These also dovetail nicely into the "social studies" category. Also under the social studies category is being ten years old and living with teenagers ... all kinds of opportunities for viewing those creatures in their natural habitat and discussing their anomalies with your mother.

* Finished reading Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire to Ramona. (I edit the icky, dark parts late in the book.) All past bloggy-things-Harry are here.

* Dragon Box is still a hit around here.

* Ramona also likes several of the math games she's tried at Sheppard Software.

* Betsy, who's taking a French class at the college, is reading Pride and Prejudice on the Kindle -- in French. She's also re- (re-re-re-) reading a hard copy in English, so if she gets hung up, she just jogs her memory with that. She's surpassed me and the little bit of French I took many years ago. I do still remember how to ask what time it is and the location of the nearest bathroom. Vital stuff.

* Anne-with-an-e loves spring break almost as much as she loves dissecting things in her zoology class.  Or is it that she loves dissecting things almost as much as she loves a leisurely spring break? Either way, she's having a lovely week.

* Lent rolls along. Our Lamb of God is beginning to grow fuzzy. I can be heard occasionally complaining that I really want to have something sweet. Sugar! (Eeek...How spoiled am I? Really!?) I caved one evening, the Saturday night we were out of town for the girls' Winter Ball. I gobbled some regifted chocolates that night. (That is a story too long to go into, but suffice to say that I do a Christmas gift exchange with a friend each year, and I always give him oatmeal cookies, and he always gives me regifted chocolates, and this was the first time we'd seen each other since Christmas. A sad excuse, but the only one I've got.) Back to Lent: we have lots of talks about sacrifice and hardship, hunger and plenty, waste and abundance, sin and repentance. We talk about weakness and chocolate and first world problems.

We got ourselves to confession. We'll plan to get there again soon.

* We've started doing Night Prayer with the girls. I've used iBreviary for myself for some time now, and love it. Atticus and I also use it for Morning Prayer, and now Ramona is enjoying taking charge of scrolling us through the Liturgy of the Hours before bedtime. It's loverly.

Guest posting at The Snoring Scholar

I added my two cents to Sarah Reinhard's "Looking Closer at the Hail Mary" series, and my post is here.

See the whole series of reflections here.

~~~~~~

And have a happy 4th of July!

(You can find me getting cranky over all the neighborhood noise, as usual.)

Quotes for a Thursday

 from Through the Year With Mary, January 12: 

"I force myself in vain to meditate on the mysteries of the Rosary; I don't succeed in fixing my mind on them. For a long time I was desolate about this lack of devotion which astonished me, for I love the Blessed Virgin so much that it should be easy for me to recite in her honor prayers which are so pleasing to her. Now I am less desolate; I think that the Queen of heaven, since she is my Mother, must see my good will and she is satisfied with it."

~~ St. Therese of Lisieux

A great saint admitted her struggles with prayer; pray for me to humbly persevere, Mary, just as the Little Flower did. 

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

From Charlotte's Web (which I'm reading aloud with Ramona), on Wilbur's plans for the day:

"From three to four, he planned to stand perfectly still, and think of what it was like to be alive, and to wait for Fern."

He is Blessed!

I wrote this six years ago, after John Paul the Great died. I did not yet have teenagers, Ramona was not yet three years old. Life at our house has changed a great deal in the last six years, but one thing has not changed: John Paul II, we love you.



Closer Than Ever to Papa

Our beloved Holy Father (“Holy Daddy,” as my toddler calls him) is with the Lord. There’s no doubt in my mind. I’m certain that Karol Wojtyla, our dear Pope John Paul II, lived his purgatory on earth and was taken straight into the Beatific Vision.

Granted, our family said prayers for the repose of his soul. He asked for our prayers, after all, and we know that our Church never presumes to know the state of a particular soul. But almost immediately, my husband pointed out how backward it felt: We all strongly felt the urge to ask him to pray for us.

At Mass on Divine Mercy Sunday I felt closer to Papa than ever before. I’ve long loved him, of course. As a convert to Catholicism ten years ago, I was greatly influenced by his writings and I continue to be. I grew to love the Catholic Church in large part because Papa explained it to me so thoroughly, so clearly, so beautifully. His apostolic letters and encyclicals told me of the riches of God’s providence, what it means to live a life of and for the Lord, and about the unity and beauty of our faith’s doctrines. Papa showed me that God loved me.

When he was alive, the closeness I felt to him was due to his role as my earthly spiritual father. He taught, led by example, and prayed for his flock. He exemplified a life of sacrifice, of pure and true love for God. However, although I knew his prayers for “all the faithful” included me, I also knew that on a practical level, JPII didn’t know me. He didn’t know for whom or for what I prayed, he didn’t know my private struggles and many weaknesses. He didn’t know how much I personally needed him. Now he does.

As I prayed at Mass, on Divine Mercy Sunday, I felt an overwhelming need to cry out to my papa. I asked him to pray for me. I felt drenched in his love and paternal concern as I imagined his beaming face. I felt convinced, down to my bones, that he now knows. He knows every private struggle that I reveal to him in prayer and he will lay them before my Heavenly Father’s throne, in urgent and loving intercession. He is now present to me as never before.

Like so many others, I will miss Papa’s earthly presence and leadership. But, with him and St. Faustina, I can say, “Jesus, I trust in Thee.” I know that our Church will go on and we will move forward with a new shepherd. We’ll have adjustments to make, and we’ll miss seeing dear Papa’s face, but our Church will go on. I do not have fears about our next pope. I fear only what he (and we) will personally endure as he shepherds us through the mess of the modern world. I trust in the Holy Spirit and I trust in Christ’s promise that the gates of hell will not prevail against His Church. We will push on. We will overcome. Evil will not triumph.

And so, while I am sad that I will no longer read new encyclicals from JPII, hear new pronouncements, or see Papa’s face on the news, I am happy for him. His earthly suffering is over. He has entered into the eternal happiness for which we all long.

When fear creeps in, I will remind myself that Papa is closer to me than ever. I’ll ask for his prayers and know — good father that he is — that he’ll take them to the Lord. Papa told me not to be afraid. I plan to follow his advice.

I'm at Conversion Diary, reflecting on Our Father's Name

Last month, I mentioned that Jennifer at Conversion Diary was putting together a series of posts meant to reflect on the Lord's prayer, word by word. I loved her idea, especially because as I first began tentative prayer I did the same thing. (Pondered one word of the Our Father at a time, that is. Blogging wasn't a word yet.)

Not yet baptized, wondering if I had to go to a church, and reading the New Testament to learn more about this Jesus person, I'd sit down to pray and spend time with just one word of the Our Father. If you've never savored the Our Father this way, meditated on just a single word or phrase, I highly recommend it. You'll find thoughts, connections, and ideas that simply don't pop up in the middle of a rote recitation. (Not that rote recitation doesn't have its place -- in times of fear or crisis, when my brain isn't working well, it's a gift to have a string of real words at my disposal that are at once a cry, a comfort, and a prayer of supplication. And, of course, formal prayer is not automatically rote, but that's another subject.)

So, please head over to Jennifer's to read the whole series, and share in my thoughts on our Father's Name.

(Graphic is thanks to Jen. I'm not that clever.)

Prayer: Progress Doesn't Happen Overnight

Tonight a friend mentioned that at the recent mission at our parish (which we missed, mainly due to Atticus and Betsy feeling miserable with colds or allergies), our pastor discussed the wonderful A-R-R-R prayer. Since I'm being so green today, I thought I'd recycle an old post about the pirate prayer which is, I think, quite apt for Lent.

~~~~~~~~~~

I really need to be accountable. That's why I have Atticus. And children. And a cat. And a scale. And a best friend. And a spiritual director.

This weekend, I got to see my best friend and my spiritual director. I saw Atticus, the children and the cat, too, of course, but you hear about them every day, so let's move on. The best friend and the director live in Omaha, so I don't see them as often. Saturday, I had the chance to see them both, so it was a good day for accountability.

You don't really need to know, and you probably don't care, about the things I was struggling with. Like most of us, I have the same things arise again and again. My spiritual director compares God's work on these issues -- anyone's issues -- to an onion. God peels away a layer or two at a time, helping us to get closer to the core.  My best friend has always compared it to an upward spiral: our struggles keep coming up, repeating themselves, which can be discouraging. But we are being pulled upward.

Both analogies work on the same level: we're making progress, but it's slow. Sometimes painful. Sometimes we don't feel as if we've gotten very far.

When I was an atheist, I assumed that people who had conversions were all like St. Paul: instantly different in every way.  What I've learned, as a Christian, is that some things are instantly different (let's face it, to become a Catholic is to adopt some rather dramatic changes in one's life) but other things are lifelong learning experiences. Core sins or ways of being take time to change.  Most likely, though the substance of the struggles is the same, the accidents, or the way in which those struggles manifest, is very different when we are 30 or 40 or 50 than it was when we were 15 or 20 years old.

I like to take the spiral analogy and visualize it even further. I picture the spiral as something very tightly, painfully wound at the bottom -- wound so tightly it can barely be moved or untwisted. But, as God' work begins, the spring begins to loosen. And as it is unwound, the spiral opens, and widens, and moves ever upward, widening our perspective of it as well.  So, as we move upward on this spiraling, expanding path, we get a better view, a clearer and wider sense of the things we're untangling and dealing with.

I share this because if you are ever discouraged by the fact that you seem to revisit the same sins or the same patterns of behavior repeatedly, I hope you won't despair. Compare yourself to where you were five years ago with the same sin. What about ten years ago?  Do you handle it differently?  If you're striving to seriously live your faith life, my guess is that you do handle it differently. A particular temptation or inclination might still be there, but you're probably approaching it in new and better ways all the time.

Does an alcoholic stop wanting to drink? Usually not. Does a recovering alcoholic stay away from alcohol? Yes. It's the same thing with all of our sins and temptations. We're still the same people, but the ways in which we live and behave do change, with God's grace. Sometimes we even stop wanting the drink, the sin, the temptation. God can transform us that completely.

Having said all that, I'm rerunning something that I need to revisit regularly and so I'm assuming you do, too. It's what my director called the "A-R-R-R" method of prayer, and what I then dubbed pirate prayer. All you have to remember is "ARRR" (but you don't have to add "Matey" or do anything that makes you feel really foolish. You can even eschew my silly pirate label and call it something respectable, such as "a method of prayer for those of us who enjoy acronyms.") 

ARRR stands for:

Acknowledge
Relate
Receive
Respond

These steps in prayer are especially helpful to me when I'm responding to something with a great deal of emotion. At times, I find (or my spiritual director oh-so-gently points out) that I'veintellectually sifted through a problem, but I'm still reacting strongly to the situation. Intellect is not enough. It's time to take it to God in prayer, and "ARRR" helps me in this way:

Acknowledge

Acknowledge what I'm feeling -- what I'm really feeling, not what I think I should feel, what I wish I could feel, what I think God wants me to feel. Acknowledge -- to myself -- my true feelings. No matter how irrational, unjustifiable or unpleasant they may be.

Relate 

Hand those feelings over to God. Tell Him everything -- tell Him what I've honestly recognized in myself. Lay it down at His feet. Give it utterly and completely to Him.

Receive

Receive what God has to offer me in return. Is He calling me to forgiveness? To healing? To action? To grieving? Be open to what He offers. (This may not come right away. Be patient.)

Respond

This is self-explanatory. What did I receive from God, and how will I put that into practice, into action?

These steps don't always occur as neatly as I've spelled them out. The "Acknowledge and Relate" stages may stretch out over many moments or sessions of prayer. Sometimes I find that I have to acknowledge over and over again what I'm reallyfeeling about something before I'm ready to move on. So, the "Acknowledge and Relate" stages may include tears or times of simply pouring my heart out to our loving God. Because I have to empty myself of my self before I'm ready to receive anything from the Lord.

But, I also have to remember that I can't get stuck in the "Acknowledge and Relate" stages. Reminding myself that I'm in the middle of a process is so helpful. When I've really and truly given up to God all that I've been holding on to, He will pour out new graces that I'll then be ready to receive. Knowing that I'm only two steps into a process wards off despair and nurtures hope. And it keeps me from stagnating in self pity or sadness.

I know that there will be gifts to receive, and that He will give me the strength to respond to them.

"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." (Phil. 4:13)

Saying Yes, Saying No, and Jennifer's Our Father Series

Why do mothers feel so guilty about being "only" mothers?  Why do we sometimes think that if our vocation and our work is "just at home" that we should be willing to also take on all kinds of other projects?

Isn't "Home and Family" a worthwhile project?

I think so. But I'd be willing to bet that most stay-at-home moms have felt guilty about saying no to volunteering, committees, and so on, even though we know that Overcommitted = Cranky.

I'm sure we've all heard the spot-on wisdom that we must sometimes say "no" to good things in order to properly serve the people and things we've said "yes" to.

And isn't the best example of that the Blessed Mother?

When Mary said "yes" to God, she was saying "no" to a lot of other objective goods, such as an ordinary marriage and family. But the Lord didn't call her to the ordinary -- He called her to the extraordinary. She said yes.

On the other hand, He has called many of us to the ordinary, and we must say no to the extraordinary (such as being, or trying to be, Superwoman.)  It's okay to say "No, I cannot be Superwoman", no to the many demands on our time that can distract us from handling that one big "Yes" that we signed on for.

Jennifer at Conversion Diary had a great post on this very subject recently.  Visit her post for the tips, definitely, but almost as good is the graphic she threw in.

~~~~~

And, speaking of Jennifer, she's doing a terrific series right now on The Our Father, Word by Word.  She's reflecting on the each word of the prayer, and has invited some guest bloggers to weigh in, too.

My turn will be coming up soon -- I'm delighted to be part of it, and I'll keep you posted.

In the meantime, check out Jennifer's first installment : "Our."  And her first guest blogger, Marcel LeJeune is here, on "Father."

And, just to be clear on the whole Yes/No issue:

If, instead of throwing in a guest post Jennifer had asked me to join a year-long committee to investigate the feasibility of doing a series of posts on the Our Father, and needed me to make 110 phone calls to see which bloggers might be free, and if she wondered aloud if I might also have time to bake ten dozen chocolate chip cookies for the first meeting and also line up the babysitting, rest assured I would have said no to all of those goods in order to say yes to the best: writing a blog post.

What Would You Do Differently?

I recently read a collection of answers to that question from a variety of homeschooling moms.

"If you could do it again ...."


So. Now that I have ten years of homeschooling under my belt, what would I change?

I would ....

Humph. I've been staring at this page for ten minutes.

Is there nothing I can think of that I'd change? Is our homeschool so ethereally perfect that we needn't tweak a thing?

Ummm, no.

I can round up some of the usual suspects for homeschooling change:

More or less curriculum (depending on the year), more or less glitter (depending on the day), more time outside (always),  more penmanship (nah, scratch that. Long ago, a friend told me that he feared for my life because my new boyfriend Atticus had the handwriting of an axe murderer; I think my kids just inherited their father's hand rather than my careful script.)

But, all of those things are somewhat incidental because, as helpful as "What would you do differently?" surveys are (because I do think they can help us identify weaknesses when we're in the midst of battle), generally speaking, we can't change who we are and where we are on the road.

I can tell a new mom to relax about her baby, but she's still going to fret.

I can tell the mom of a three-year-old that "they all get potty-trained eventually," but she'll still be worried.

I can tell a new homeschooler that she needn't create an Einstein in Kindergarten or first grade, but she'll still be overflowing with enthusiasm and might do too much.

Beginners make beginners' mistakes. I did. I'm still making them, because I'm still a beginner,  just in new and different stages of life. Expect mistakes. Expect tweaking. Expect overhauls.

But, here's the best homeschooling and parenting advice I can dish out:

Identify your biggest fear. Then, hand it right over to Jesus. Every. Single. Morning.  Ask Him to help you face that fear, just for today. Go to bed at night thanking Him for the chance to face the fear and ask Him for forgiveness for your mistakes and sins and ask Him to help you through the next day.

Wake up the next day and repeat.

What would I do differently?

I would never forget my own advice.

(Photo from ImageChef.com)

Quote For a Sunday Night

"If you want faith, pray. If you want hope, pray. If you want charity, pray. If you want poverty, pray. If you want obedience, pray. If you want chastity, pray. If you want humility, pray. If you want meekness, pray. If you want fortitude, pray. If you want any virtue, pray.

"And pray in this fashion: always reading the Book of Life, that is, the life of the God-Man, Jesus Christ, whose life consisted of poverty, pain, contempt and true obedience."

~~ Blessed Angela of Foligno, Book of Visions and Instructions

Simple Ways to Get More Prayer Into Your Life

On this Feast of Our Lady of the Rosary, some ideas for prayer and inspiration:

Ideas from my Rosary book:

Pray in the shower.
Pray in the car.
Pray while you walk.
Pray as you do chores.
Pray with your kids instead of trying to find quiet time alone.
Pray a decade of the Rosary here and there.
Pray in the middle of the night (when up with a baby, if you're an insomniac ....)
Pray on the way to Mass.

Ideas from others:

• Sarah Reinhard's The Rosary Seven  and her Faith and Family article, Praying the Rosary: Try and Try Again. 

• Keep Your Perspective, from Fr. S.

• Read some Chesterton and get a head start at Castle in the Sea

Feast of Our Lady of the Rosary

"The Rosary taught Bernadette everything …
The Rosary was her dictionary, her spelling book,
naming and explaining the mysteries of God’s kingdom;
it was a map guiding her to the heart of  God’s love for humanity."

~~ Fr. John Lochran, The Miracle of Lourdes

Anxiety, Stevie Wonder, and Some Assembly Required

Yesterday, at Mass, these words leapt out at me:

"Protect us from all anxiety ...."

I hear the words every Sunday. Right after the Lord's Prayer:

Deliver us, Lord, from every evil,
and grant us peace in our day.
In your mercy keep us free from sin
and protect us from all anxiety
as we wait in joyful hope
for the coming of our Savior, Jesus Christ.

Some days I find that certain prayers or parts of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass are like a familiar song.  Instead of really hearing the words, I feel a rhythm: "Ba dum, ba dum, ba dum. Ba dum ba dum, Amen."

Other times (better times) I don't just feel a rhythm, I enter it. Instead of riding a wave I dive into the deep, break through the water, stop skimming and start swimming. And I hear things in a new way. 

Yesterday I was struck by the fact that our Lord doesn't simply "wish" we would avoid anxiety-- He actually directs us to pray for protection from the evil of it.

and protect us from all anxiety

Protect us. From all anxiety.

Switching gears for a moment:

The other day, I assembled a futon couch. As I tweeted, "assemble-it-yourself" furniture has been known to cause divorces. However, this time, Atticus and I didn't risk our marriage. I tackled the project with my girls (because Atticus wasn't home) and we cranked up some music. Music is such a mysterious gift, isn't it? That day, it was a fun mix that a friend had just given me. How can you get tense when you're listening to Stevie Wonder singing For Once In My Life?

And, it's not just good accompaniment for furniture assembly. For me, it's a spiritual song, though my friend didn't know that.

For once unafraid
I can go where life leads me
Somehow I know I'll be strong

At some point in my conversion, Stevie and God converged on me one day:

For once I can touch
What my heart used to dream of
Long before I knew

and they were both talking about Him.

Someone warm like you
Would make my dreams come true.

And about me:

For once in my life
I won't let sorrow hurt me
Not like it's hurt me before

That day, I knew I'd never hear that song in the same way again.

For once I can say
This is mine, you can't take it
Long as I know I have love
I can make it

Music does this. Leads us and enlightens. It shows us something new, shines light on a dark corner, jolts us into a new vision.

And prayers do it, too. Sometimes, a prayer I've heard countless times is inexplicably a new lyric, a profoundly played note that wrenches a corner of my being and is forever changed for me, forever changing me.

Protect us from all anxiety.
As we wait in joyful hope. 

A cd from a friend, time with my daughters, cheap furniture that needs to be assembled, Stevie, a familiar prayer walloping me anew -- the simplest things can be the most mysterious.

"All art aspires to the condition of music." ~~ Walter Pater

"Anxiety comes from an irregulated desire to be delivered from the evil we experience. Therefore, above all else, calm and compose your mind. Gently and quietly pursue your aim." ~~ St. Francis de Sales

Your Favorite Catholic Devotions and Prayer Practices?

Mary de Turris Poust tagged me for a meme.  The original question was,"What are your five favorite Catholic devotions?"

But Mary responded, "To be honest, my devotions are not going to look or sound like traditional devotions. That's why I added 'prayer practices' to the headline."

Sounds good to me. I never seem to fit neatly into categories either, so I'll follow Mary's expansive lead. And some of my answers are stolen from similar to Mary's. 

1. The Chaplet of Divine Mercy

I love this prayer. Years ago, before I was a Catholic, I was struggling with an enormous problem and my marriage was on shaky ground. I had stopped attending the Episcopal church, and had no place to call my spiritual home. My friend Jack gave me a copy of the chaplet saying, "Here. Pray it every day for the next month." I shrugged and supposed it couldn't hurt. I prayed daily and at the end of that month, it seemed that my problem had miraculously been dealt with and my marriage was getting a new start.

Ummm ... okay.

I knew the prayer wasn't a magic charm but it did seem to be a Catholic road sign. A big, neon one. A sign among many that had been piling up. Nine months later I was Catholic. 

2. The Rosary

A no-brainer since I wrote the book on it .... 

But, seriously, I do love it. I love that the Rosary meets me where I am. If I'm in a hurry, Mother Mary takes my hastily tossed up prayers and delivers them quickly to her Son, as if she were the head of a holy bucket brigade. If I have the luxury of time and contemplation, I am rewarded with sublime immersion into the life of Jesus. He visits me through the Rosary, holds me, accuses me, redeems me. And He does it all through the mysteries that are His life and the life of the woman He honored enough to ask Her to be His mother.


3. The Liturgy of the Hours

As Mary noted this isn't technically a devotion but since I do have a great devotion to the Liturgy of the Hours, I have to include it. I wrote more about it here (in the second part of that post.) And, thanks to pal Lissa, I now have iBreviary on my iPod Touch. As much as I love my set of prayer books, I must admit that iBreviary has saved Atticus and I many ribbonless minutes on busy workday mornings.

4. Music 

Mary also mentioned music and said that "it's a rather odd choice even as a prayer practice, but it's true."  I don't think it's odd at all! I can't imagine not including music as part of my prayer life and devotions. If I am feeling that something's missing, if I am drifting from God, if my prayer life needs a booster shot, I can almost guarantee that certain songs or kinds of music will transport me to the place I need to be: gratitude, yearning, love, attachment, detachment, awe, charity, mystery, hope. It can range from Bach to Matt Maher, from chant to Jill Phillips.

And by the way, dancing in the kitchen is a holy experience, too.

5. Embracing My Vocation

This should possibly be #1 on my list. It is so very Catholic to think of life in terms of vocation.  We are all called to something. In my case, I was called down a circuitous path to marriage and motherhood. When I embrace that vocation as a holy calling, when I have a devotion to my duties, seeing each duty as a prayer, when I offer up every suffering large and small, when I pray through every challenge and triumph, when I talk to God about everything from the laundry to an illness in the family, from dishes to writing deadlines, I am practicing a truly Catholic devotion. 

Now it's your turn.

Instead of tagging others, I'm asking you to send me a link if you blog this meme. Then, I'll put the respondents together in a post.