A Mom's Litany of Humility

O Jesus! meek and humble of heart, Hear me.

From the desire of being Mother of the Year,

Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being told my kids are the best …
From the desire of having the best behaved children …

From the desire of having perfect, quiet children every week at Mass …
From the desire of having the perfect house…
From the desire of being the best cook …

From the desire of having a Pinterest-worthy life …

From the desire of wanting a full night's sleep, every night …

From the desire of being asked for Mom advice …

From the desire of hearing, “I don’t know how you do it all!” …

From the desire of wanting too much time to myself …

From the desire of wanting my pre-baby body back …

Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being left out …

From the fear of being forgotten …

From the fear of being replaced …

From the fear of messing up my kids …

From the fear of my kids messing up …

From the fear of raising spoiled children …
From the fear of forgetting to train my children properly …
From the fear of my children leaving me …
From the fear of my children rejecting me …

From the fear of my children loving Daddy more than me …
From the fear that I am not enough …

From the fear of hearing, “I wish she was my Mom” …

From the fear of doing things the wrong way …
From the fear of falling behind …

 

That other Mothers may be loved more than I,

Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be more crafty than I …
That, in the opinion of the world, others’ insights and advice may increase and mine may decrease …
That others’ recipes may be chosen and mine set aside …

That others may be more organized than I ...

That others may look more put together than I …

That others may have a more fit body than I …
That others may be praised and I go unnoticed …
That others may be preferred to me in everything …
That others may be more efficient than I, provided that I may become as efficient as I should ...

Amen

 

Don't spread it thin

I'm almost halfway through a month-long discipline right now. By the grace of God, I'm doing better than I thought I would. I thought I would feel tortured every day, but by exercising my spiritual muscles, I'm feeling stronger than my passions and stronger than the temptations that assault me.

It's the middle of November and I've been putting off all things Christmas until the first Sunday of Advent, at least.

Maybe to some people that still sounds early. To others, maybe they're wondering what's the big deal, or why am I waiting so long? But to me, it's a big deal.

You see, I'm a Christmas junkie. I love all things Christmas. Christmas baking, Christmas decorations, Christmas traditions, Christmas lights, Christmas movies, and oh my, don't get me started on how much I love Christmas music. When I was a child, Christmas was like the light at the end of the tunnel. I anxiously waited for that magical time of year. The anticipation was almost too much to handle as summer came to an end, school started, the air got chilly, fall came, and then the first snowflakes started to fly. But I'm so thankful now, that my mom made me wait for all those things that I loved. I certainly wanted to have a Christmas tree to look at over Thanksgiving dinner and I wanted total access to our Christmas music and movies, but thank you God, she did not give in. She made me wait.

Unfortunately, when I went away to college and I was under my own discipline, I started dipping my toes into all things Christmas during the month of November. I thought it was great! I listened to Christmas music for almost two straight months! I got Christmas lights up before Thanksgiving break! I was indulging in gingerbread cookies and peppermint mochas! I thought I was multiplying my Christmas joy!

But I forgot one key thing: earthly joy, the happiness that can come from the things of this world, is finite. It has its limits. It can't last forever. And as I learned year after year of loving Christmas earlier and earlier, I didn't feel that deep anticipation and catharsis of Christmas joy like I thought I would. Instead of riding a Christmas high for twice as long each year, I just divided it in half. I spread the joy thin--so thin, that Christmas morning seemed anticlimactic. Worse yet, I gave in completely to the secular view of Christmas and conceded that Christmas was "over" after Christmas morning, rather than just beginning and lasting for the next 8 days as we believe in the Catholic faith.

I literally loved Christmas to death. By giving in to my whims, enslaved by my "desires and pleasures" (Titus 3:3), bowing down to my spur-of-the-moment desires for "Christmas things" in October and November, I was taking away from the joys of the real holiday season. I was losing sight of the true meaning of Christmas, which is Christ Himself, Who alone can give infinite joy, rather than the finite joy from the world. And by bowing down to the world and my passions, I was ashamed in the presence of God.

This year, I said enough is enough. I'm reverting back to the lessons I learned as a child. Wait. Be patient. Love the anticipation rather than giving in. Christmas is taking on a new meaning again this year, that I seemed to have lost a few years back. In addition, I have a baby who will celebrate his first Christmas this year. I want to teach him the patience and discipline that my mom taught me. I want Christmas to be magical to him, too, and I don't think that can happen if I am giving in to my desires, showing him that he can have whatever he wants whenever he wants it.

It's November 18th and I have 12 more days until I can bust out my Christmas things. I can't wait!

Amazing what?

Grace.

I'll be honest. For most of my life, I had no idea what grace was. I don't even really remember talking about it growing up. Maybe I remember a little from high school. But I definitely couldn't have told you what it was. I know that this sounds all-too-familiar for cradle Catholics who grew up not really knowing or authentically practicing their faith. It's no wonder why I thought I didn't need to confess my sins, or pray, or feel the need for the Sacraments, especially the Eucharist. "For men will be lovers of self, lovers of money, proud, arrogant, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, inhuman, implacable, slanderers, profligates, fierce, haters of good, treacherous, reckless, swollen with conceit, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God, holding the form of religion but denying the power of it." (2 Timothy 3:2-5)

That segment of the verse describes my upbringing! Yep, I went to Mass sometimes, made the Sign of the Cross, did the sit/stand/kneel and went through the motions, had a cross in my bedroom, prayed when things got tough, but in almost everything I did, I just held onto the form of Catholicism, but denied the power of it. That power, being grace. 

Sometimes the grace got through all the walls I built up. I can only imagine how many times in my life I said something like, "I have no idea how I made it through that," or "I didn't think I could do it." I'm not talking about rather superficial things like finishing an exam or fixing something, but times of suffering and enduring. Times where I was so sad I thought I could drown in my sorrows; grace got me through. The times where it seemed like every door was closing on me and my life was crumbling in; grace got me through. The times I was frozen in fear; grace got me through. No matter how many times I tried to shut God out of my life, He still loves me more than I can fathom and as a loving Father, He still reaches out to me in any ways that He can.

But for much of my life, I lived without sanctifying or saving grace offered by Christ through His Bride, the Church. Thanks be to God, He gave me more time in my life to turn things around and return to a state of grace. I did, though, cut myself off of this saving grace through my sins. My own choices. I refused the graces, or help, that God was offering me to overcome my temptations, and I fell. Have you ever known someone with bad habits or lifestyles and you wished they would change? Have you ever pleaded with someone to not light that cigarette, or not have another drink? How upset and disappointed were you when they smoked again or drank again? The wounds that we inflict upon His Sacred Heart by our sins are nothing compared to the disappointment we feel in our loved ones.This is like God's offer of sanctifying grace to us, followed by our rejection of it, on a small scale.  Because He has the greatest capacity to love, He also has the greatest capacity to be hurt when we reject His saving help.

Once I began to have a knowledge and awareness of grace, the more I saw it in my life. It's literally everywhere. Constant. Like the air around me... all I have to do is breathe. But I need extra help to heed Jesus' call to "be perfect, just as your Heavenly Father is perfect" (Matt 5:48). My heart swells with gratitude for the Church and her Sacraments, which are visible signs of invisible graces. The most important and life-altering thing I did in my "re-version" was to go to the Sacrament of Reconciliation. By confessing my sins in the confessional, I acknowledged all the times that I sinned, refused God's grace, and damaged my relationship with Him and His Body, the Church. I confessed bad habits and unholy tendencies I had, and through the Sacrament, received the graces to overcome most of them--to this I can attest! The confessional was like a gate to the greatest source of graces: the Eucharist. The Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of our Lord, Himself! Being in a state of grace, I could receive the Eucharist worthily. Remember what St. Paul says:

For I received from the Lord what I also handed on to you, that the Lord Jesus, on the night he was handed over, took bread, and, after he had given thanks, broke it and said, “This is my body that is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” In the same way also the cup, after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.” For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the death of the Lord until he comes.

Therefore whoever eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord unworthily will have to answer for the body and blood of the Lord. A person should examine himself, and so eat the bread and drink the cup. For anyone who eats and drinks without discerning the body, eats and drinks judgment on himself. That is why many among you are ill and infirm, and a considerable number are dying. (1 Corinthians 11:23-30)

The graces from the Eucharist are transforming my life all the time because I try hard to be open to them. Jesus told St. Faustina, "When I come to a human heart in Holy Communion, My hands are full of all kinds of graces which I want to give to the soul. But souls do not even pay attention to Me; they leave Me to Myself and busy themselves with other things. ... They treat Me as a dead object" (Diary of St. Faustina, 1385).

Reading that passage during my "re-version" process really made me stop and think, "What is grace?" and, "Is the Eucharist even important in my life?" My journey really took off from those questions, and now He is changing my life from the answers I sought. I pray for other cradle Catholics with similar experiences as mine, who can say, "I don't know what grace is," or, "I don't make it to Mass every week," which means, "I don't know what the Eucharist is." The Church offers every bit of help that we could possibly need to know, love, and serve Him and become the perfected lovers that we are called to be! Turn to her! I will be praying for you. Please pray for me too.

.

A child in his mother's arms

A quick update. My posts have been so spotty and infrequent in the last several months. I announced a while ago that I was having a baby... and I did! Sweet little Fulton, named after Venerable Fulton Sheen. I'm loving my new vocation as wife, mother, and homemaker. I keep very busy, but along with having a new baby, we had another life change. My husband and I moved to Wisconsin a couple months before Fulton was born. I know without a doubt that God's hand was all over this, so I am excited to know for what purpose we had to move from Montana to Wisconsin!

Now, back to the reason why I'm writing.

God is teaching me so much through my vocation as mother and wife.

Our vocations in life, assigned by God, are our paths to holiness. Whether we are called to married, single, or religious life, each brings us to a path of holiness when we rely on God's grace that is given to us to fulfill the vocation. Already, my son is teaching me so much about my faith and relationship to God. 

 "As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you..." Isaiah 66:13

"Rather, I have stilled my soul, like a weaned child to its mother, weaned is my soul." Psalm 131:2

I see these verses in a new, illumined light, thanks to my baby. Through all the moods and ups and downs that my son has, I know he is most relaxed, happy, and at peace when he is resting in my arms.. when he can just lay his head on my shoulder and melt into my embrace. Of course, being a baby, he's not always so calm. Sometimes he screams. He cries. He squirms. He seems to fight my embrace and all the love and comfort I long to give him. I know he knows that he feels so much better when he is just calm and will let me hold him, but sometimes he fights it.

Often, this is how I treat God.

I can think back to some times in my life where I just let go and fell into His arms. When I put all my worries aside and fell, peacefully and with total trust, into His embrace. I know this is how I should be all the time, with such complete trust in Our Lord that nothing can trouble me. But way too often I find myself being the fussy baby. I'm kicking and screaming because I want things my way or I want something that I can't get. I turn into that squirmy, screaming baby when I feel anxiety in my heart. When I'm relying too much on myself and refusing His grace. When I have fears and I let them consume me. I know it's easier just to give it to God and let Him love me. Why, then, do I fight it?

I never really understood this until I became a mother. But now I am more aware of the state of my soul and the trust I have (or have not) placed in God. When I feel frantic, like God is far from me and things are out of control.. when I'm looking around wondering why God won't hear my pleas to calm me down, now I'm able to think of my son. I'm able to take a step back and look at myself. Is God really trying to hold me and love me, but I'm squirming and crying too much to notice? How do I get to the point of pure, blissful inner peace, like this?

I'm thankful for the many hours I have spent just holding my baby as he sleeps. Not only has it given me precious time with my boy, but I have had long hours of prayer and meditation with Our Lord, just resting in His arms, feeling the love He longs to give me.

A baby is coming

After nine full months of pregnancy, my baby is due to arrive any day now. Throughout this journey, I have reflected often on the end of my pregnancy. You know, the scary, painful part of labor and delivery.

For my entire life, I have never liked taking pain medication. God willing, I will have this baby completely naturally, which I know will entail probably the greatest pain I have ever felt in my life. On the surface, this terrifies me. I've been known to complain for days about a paper cut or a sore from biting my tongue. I've never considered myself to have a high pain tolerance. This puts more fear in me when I think about pushing this little (but not so little!) baby out of my body.

But that fear is eased, and even goes away completely, when I think about Christ and His passion. I see such distinct similarities and parallels between my impending labor and delivery and His passion and crucifixion.

For His whole life, Christ knew that His time would come. He knew he would be put through the most agonizing pain in His life. He knew how much He would suffer. I'm sure, as with any human mind, those thoughts bubbled up from time to time with a sense of anxiety. So, too, have I known my whole life that this day would come for me. That I, too, will be put through the most agonizing pain in my life. That I will suffer. And with every doctor's appointment, baby kick, new baby item, and glance in a mirror, these thoughts have bubbled up in my head, often, with a sense of anxiety. This great suffering is coming. It is God's will. I chose it, I accept it, but it's still scary.

Christ's precious body was completely broken apart. There was blood. There was stress on His joints and muscles. There were rips and cuts. He fell and must have thought that He could not possibly go on and carry that cross. His earthly body would never be the same. So too will my body be broken. There will be blood, stress, fatigue, and cuts. My body won't ever be the same. I will feel so exhausted and beat up that I will think I can't go on. I'm already thankful right now for my Simons of Cyrene--my husband, the nurses, and my doctor--who will help me carry my cross to the end goal.

Why did Christ even endure all this? Why did He willingly go through such agony and suffering? To give all of us life. Through His suffering, death, and resurrection, we can have eternal life beyond this earth. He loved us so much that the beatings were worth it. The cross was worth it. The thorns and nails were worth it. My labor and delivery is worth it to give life to my child. The scars and new look and feel of my body will be worth it to give someone else life. My love is so strong for this baby that it is all worth it.

So yes, I have been scared and anxious for the last nine months thinking about this upcoming day. But Christ gives meaning to suffering. Not only has He shown me how great it is to suffer in order to give life to others, but I can unite my suffering with His. My only peace and consolation comes from Jesus, and I look forward to my passion as a time of grace.

Please say a prayer for me, my husband, our baby, and all of the doctors and nurses who will help us. I can't wait to meet our baby!