7 Quick Takes Friday (vol. 11)

Click on the image above to read Jennifer Fulwiler's blog.

~1~

The dishes are still on the table from dinner.  I'm feeling full and sleepy so instead of mustering up the energy I don't have to clean up, I've decided to do my 7 Quick Takes instead.

~2~

This last week we have had company.  My in-laws.  Not a bad visit.  In fact, a very nice one.  However, while I cook to get the whole feeding the hungry thing over with, my mother-in-law actually enjoys cooking. She even plans ahead before driving nine hours to stay with us and totes in a giant cooler full of, I don't know, a half a cow, plus yogurt and nuts.  I do love her coming to my house and taking over the kitchen, but it sure increases the amount dishes that need to be cleaned.  I often feel so guilty for managing to slip out of the kitchen during the cooking process that I force myself to stay put during clean up.  Thankfully, cleaning up does not increase shortness of breath like cooking does. 

~3~

#2 may be why I'm rebelling against cleaning up from dinner tonight. 

~4~

Today was my nine-year-old's piano recital.  She was the star of the recital since she was the only one.  This is one of the perks of living in a very small town.  A few of my friends and their children attended as well as my mom.  We all dressed nicely and then had tea and cookies afterward.  Candy, Grasshopper's teacher, even printed out programs on pretty pink paper.  It was all very proper and fun.  Of course, Grasshopper played her four short pieces very well while counting the time to the music with her high heels.  I'm still not sure how she convinced me that she should have high heals at the age of nine...

~5~

She convinced me to have her ears pierced at the age of nine as well (I had to wait until I was thirteen).  Not only that, she was so nervous to get it done, that she managed to persuade me to let her five-year-old sister do it too.  The big shock came when it was time to pay.  I guess the price of gold dictates the cost. I thought I might pay twenty bucks for the both of them.  Oh no.  It was much, much, oh ever so much more than that.  We will not miss one cleaning or twisting.  Those holes are not going anywhere.

~6~

Hooray!  We have finished with home school for the summer.  Grasshopper has completed the third grade with me as her teacher and I loved it.  I think she did too.  Soon I will get online to buy some of the curriculum for next year for both my girls.  It's hard to imagine not being a home school family.  It fits us well.  Now all I need is to buy a jean jumper dress to make it really official (I'm not sure why that's what I imagine when I think "home school mom").

~7~

I can't believe this post is actually complete and my two-year-old son, kept himself pretty busy the entire time.  He's been outside following his sisters around in his diaper and rubber boots.  I did finally put a shirt on him along with a belt so that he could carry his gun in the belt rather than his soggy diaper.  Now I'll have to get up to clean up the dinner dishes as well as the pieces of our flower garden now strewn around the living room.  I'm sure they were first killed with the gun in his diaper. Thanks, Bubby.

Silence, Nature and Faith

It's not raining today.  A miracle, I think.  The kids are actually outside and the house is quiet.  When it gets this quiet my ears sort of buzz.  I guess I'm not used to the silence.  I wonder about the days long gone, before TV, radios and cars.  How quiet it must of been.  How reflection on God and the nature of creation must have come so much more easily. 

When I was a child, I had ample opportunity for quiet days.  I was the youngest of three by eleven years.  We lived out on a lightly traveled country road.  Most often, my days were solitary.  My mother, who kept herself very happily busy with house chores, was always there when I needed her, but mostly I wandered around by myself.  I'd follow the cat to the barn, throw sticks in the ditch and watch them float down stream, or lay on the grass and observing the clouds pass over head.  I was very aware of the sound of the birds or the breeze that rustled through the leaves.  If there happened to be a car, I'd watch it pass by and then stand just outside the trail of dust it left until I couldn't hear or see it anymore.

My childhood was not the most exciting, but it was peaceful and happy.  I had time to listen, search and reflect. 

My children have a very different life than I did.  We live in a town, a fairly quiet town, but cars can be heard and seen often.  The T.V., no matter how badly I want it to go away, is still ever-present as well as video games.  It also rains here a lot which makes time outdoors difficult and, even if all those things didn't exist, my children have each other to keep the noise going.

I'm not sure, exactly, how to instill in my children a desire for stillness and reflection.  I'm not even sure how to find it myself any longer.  However, I think it's vital for a life of faith.  The only thing I've come up with is to seek out a place on a hill top or somewhere with a view of some sort.  A place that is quiet but full of the sounds of nature.  I need to find this place and take my kids there often.  I need to let them explore and just be somewhere away from all the noise of this world.  And I need to do it for me as well. 

Even Jesus would go off somewhere, away from the hustle and bustle, to pray.

Practice Peace and Quiet

I chose to give up wheat for Lent, but it seems God may have wanted me to give up yelling.  A couple days ago I lost my voice.  I had no idea how much I yelled orders and disciplined by the sheer threatening sound of my voice until I'd open my mouth as usual and nothing would come out but a tiny squeak.  I would actually have to walk over to the problem child and tell her in a hushed voice what I demanded.  It made me laugh when the girls would answer me in whispers even though there was no need.  It seems they naturally mimic me. 

I thought about this a few years ago when Grasshopper had a wonderful pre-school teacher who talked in a sweet, sing-song, soft spoken way.  Interestingly, Linda's students also were sweet, happy and amazingly quiet.  In her classroom I consistently observed three and four year olds who were quietly and happily working away on whatever project or task Linda had organized.  There was not the typical crazy, free-for-all one would expect from this age group. 

It was also obvious that Linda's students were not quiet out of fear or because they were being punished.  They kept their voices and bodies hushed and still because they took their cue from Linda.  Not only that, they loved and respected her because she made it very clear, through her sweet and sincere way, that she cared for them. 

I love my children, but often lack kindness and tenderness toward them.  I am so busy with whatever I am doing that, rather than walk across the room to lovingly break up a fight, or gently remind the kids to put their toys away, I raise my voice and expect an immediate response.  The worst part of all is that my children reflect my behavior and so sometimes it can get pretty loud and mean in our little house. 

Although it would really be nice to be able to talk again, I have learned a lesson these last couple days.  God is right.  I need to stop yelling.

Everybody just be quiet, shut off that tv and clean up this living room...now!

Do you ever have one of those days or weeks when it seems impossible to find the patience to stand your own children?  Before I was a mother I thought mothers loved their children unconditionally, all the time.  I still know that to be mostly true, but not in the sentimental way I had imagined.  It never crossed my mind that loving my children meant I had to frequently grit my teeth and tamp down irritation.

To love my children I must do more than read them stories and bake them cookies.  It's not enough to play board games with them (like I ever do that) or push them on the swings.  To love my children I must continually sacrifice.  I must let go of my own desires and figure out how to barrel through a day without crushing a child's spirit.  And believe me, I am not always successful.

St. Paul writes, "...God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us."  Even while I was and am a sinner, Christ died for me and he did it willingly.  He didn't resent me for it, throw a fit, or curse me under his breath for making him die on the cross.  He slowly and silently walked to his death and instead of bitterness he says: "Father forgive them for they know not what they do." 

And I, as a follower of Christ, am asked to do the same for my children.  Impossible to do without the heart of Christ and in order to have the heart of Christ, I must be united with him through prayer.  Lots and lots of prayer!  I also must expect to fail.  Jesus did not make it to Calvary without falling a few times but he got up and kept going out of love for me (and everybody else including my children).

The Elephant in the Room

The other day my friend was praying for me about my feelings of isolation.  Lately, I have found myself in a smaller and smaller group of people (at least in America).  I would describe myself as a Catholic Christian American Conservative Republican.  In that order.  I'd give them all up except the first two.  So you see where my loyalties are.  The whole contraception debate that has befallen our country has isolated me even more.  I happen to take the teaching of the Church on contraception seriously.  Not only that, my conservatism (conserve what is good from the past) seems to cause some problems out here in the west.  My fellow Catholics have a more liberal ideology and liberals, in my experience, are very tolerant of everything, except conservatism.

My friend, who is a non-Catholic Christian and would also vote for a true conservative candidate like Santorum (unlike my fellow Catholic Republican voters who vote for Romney) said, as she prayed for me, a funny thing.  She called me a "purple elephant."  We looked at each other and wondered where in the world that came from.  At the time we were praying we had not discussed the political aspect of my loneliness, however an elephant aptly describes the Republican part of me. 

Later, as we prayed the scriptural rosary, we read about Jesus and the purple garment that was put on him just before his crucifixion and immediately recognized the color coincidence.  At that point in the crucifixion story, Jesus was completely alone.  Even His closest friends abandoned him. The guards crowned him with thorns, mocked, hit and spat on him. Sometimes that's how I feel as a Catholic Christian Conservative in America.  Mocked.  Belittled.  Tossed aside as ignorant and uneducated.  Abandoned.  Virtually hit and spit on the liberal media.

That image of a purple elephant struck me as an almost perfect description of me and it makes me smile.  I'm the purple elephant in the room that nobody wants to acknowledge is there (at least not my strongly held beliefs).  I know I am not alone in my loyalties, I'm just physically separated from like-minded people (my mom being the exception).   

Today I declare I am a proud member of the Purple Elephant Club and my prayers are with those who are like me.  I pray we will be bold, stand strong and smile.

A Welcome Friend

The sun decided to visit today.  She stayed long enough for me to feel her warmth in my hair and on my cheek.  She beckoned the kids outside and so they trotted, skipped and scampered to play and swing from the trees whose branches snapped and crackled after their long abandonment.  She also encouraged me to keep my garage door open to let the mildew laden air be whisked away and replaced with sweet, fresh, spring air.

Spring may have arrived today, or at least it may on its way.  I am cautiously optimistic.  I don't want to make any great pronouncement yet.  Winter has beat me down so that I am fearful to even think happy thoughts of sunshine, smiles and swimming.

It has been a long, gray, dark, dreary, dank and depressing winter.  Each day I looked out my window at a lifeless and unfeeling sky.  The trees drooped and slumped while black birds sat on their bare branches.  Their low and obnoxious crows and caws echoed through the vacant neighborhood.  Once in a while a storm would blow through.  The gusts would force those same birds from the trees. But they would fly back to the places they had been.  They seemed to sit there for the entire length of winter with nothing better to do, probably as bored and depressed as I was.

I can't recall seeing a black bird today.  I think the sun may have chased them to the shadows.  Maybe they were not quite ready for frolicking and flying.  Maybe their wings were stiff and their eyes blinded by the light.  Maybe it was the barks of dogs, squeals of children or the roar of lawnmowers cutting soggy grass that scared them off.  I, for one, did not miss them or the oppressive sky. 

I lifted my face to my long forgotten friend and let her kiss me.

Welcome back, sun.  I hope you come again tomorrow.

Enforcing the rules

Not eating when I want and what I want is difficult for me.  It's like my body is a spoiled, snobby, pampered child.  If I so much as feel a twinge in my tummy, I run to the pantry or the fridge before I fall to the ground for lack of sustenance.  My body screams, cries and throws tantrums unless I give in to its every need, and quickly. 

So when Ash Wednesday comes along, and the Church has me fast (eat a small amount throughout the day without snacks) and abstain from meat, it becomes abundantly clear that I have spoiled, rotten, body.  It demands so much of my attention that my spirit is neglected.  My spirit needs food as much, or more, and is fed by prayer and the reception of sacraments.

The Catholic Church is often seen as a church of rules and regulations that can hinder a person from truly growing in the Spirit of Christ.  Supposedly the Holy Spirit will guide a person to a life of holiness.  I do agree that the Spirit will guide us, but I also agree with Jesus when He says: "The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak" (Matthew 26:41).  Spirit in this sense is not God's Holy Spirit, but my own.

There are five precepts that the Church has us uphold and one of them is "to observe the days of fasting and abstinence established by the Church" (Catechism of the Catholic Church 2043).  It may seem like a silly rule to some, but to me it is vital.  I don't think my spirit could ever overcome my demanding body without a little discipline.  These days of fasting on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday, along with abstaining from meat on Fridays during the season of Lent, are just small things I can do to strengthen my spirit and my will.

Instead of giving in to the screaming, spoiled child (my body), I am given the opportunity to tell it "NO" and send it to the time out chair.  Lent is a time to enforce the rules on my body so that my spirit will have a chance to grow up.