Where the Catholic Sun Doth Shine

Resolutions Day Four!

Yes, the churchy resolution is banned to the churchy blog. It just feels cozier over here! 

The resolution, I suppose, is to pray more. HOW NICE AND VAGUE! Right now I am thinking of all the training I've received in long-term and strategic planning, by which I mean I suffered through a year on the five-year-plan committee at church and maybe I could say that my OBJECTIVE is to pray more and my GOALS are to 1) go to prayer retreats/conferences and 2) receive training in prayer ministry. Or wait - did I mix up goals and objectives? I get very confused about these things, Internet. I am now on the committee IMPLEMENTING the five year plan and things get even MORE complicated. (It doesn't help when you've missed the last four meetings due to New Baby Syndrome.) 

ANYWAY! 

A frillion years ago I went to the NDCF fall retreat. As a grown up. Not only was I older than the students, I was older than all the STAFF. That right there was a mind trip. I wrote about it in my last post (which was, holy cats, over a month ago, BAD BLOGGER!) So one thing that happened there, and that I alluded to at the end of that post, was that my friend suggested I join the "prayer team" that Saturday evening at the retreat, and make myself available to pray with/for students. So for those of you who are all, "huh?" (ie: the Catholics in the crowd), the students were probably going to be pretty moved/convicted by/challenged by the Saturday evening talk, and might want to pray about it afterwards. Most of the staff were going to hang out in the back of the room and any student could approach any staff person and my FRIEND (who happens to be the boss of all these people, which is kind of awesome) was going to let ME DO IT TOO. 

Except... UM, NO WAY, LADY. Well, I have to say my first reaction was WHEE! Because... well, this is what I love. I love to pray for other people. I love to pray for people I don't know. I LOVE to just throw stuff out there and see what God does with it. And I have very few personal boundaries, you know, and I don't think it's weird at all for someone to dump all their stuff on ME, and, well, there are definitely times where I feel quite certain that This Is What I Was Made To Do. 

And YES, if you did not grow up in the NDCF or something similar or you're a very private person or what have you, this is super freaking WEIRD. I get that. TOTALLY GET THAT. But it is not weird to me. I love the prayers of the Catholic church but praying for others in this hands-on let's-see-what-God-has-to-say way is not something I ever get to do.

However! I am both smarter and humbler than I used to be (though not much) and I knew that this was not the right place for me to, say, try something out. My friend didn't think this was a big thing to offer, but it was a HUGE thing for me, and I didn't want to treat it lightly. Or turn one of these college kids into a personal experiment or something. 

So I stayed out of the way and just watched it all happen. Then later my friend and I were talking about it and she was all, "we should learn how!" Just like that. And I was all, "REALLY? We can DO that? *I* can do that?!" 

This line I've drawn between my Catholic world and my old NDCF/Protestant world is getting blurrier, or disappearing, or it was never really there in the first place. When my friend told me that one of her staff people just recently converted to Catholicism I about fell over. Seriously. But why can't I go to prayer retreats put on by Protestant ministries? Why can't I go to the NDCF winter retreat and do prayer ministry there? Why can't I learn about prayer ministry from a not-Catholic perspective? 

I don't ever think I've felt like I CAN'T, more like I SHOULDN'T. But I'm not sure why. 

I know people in both places who are super passionate about what they're doing, and I SO admire them. They're so inspiring. But I don't know ANYONE who has a foot on each side. I don't know who to emulate. I don't know who to look to for ideas or guidance. That's always hard for me, not having someone to model myself after, because if a model doesn't exist, then maybe I'm not doing the right thing. And I so want to be doing the right thing. Does that make sense?

What's nice is that my friend thinks I'm a total dork about all of this and is super excited to just try things out and see what happens and maybe we should sign up for this and maybe we can go to that and THAT is really helpful. Having someone who has all of your enthusiasm and none of your neuroses. 

But really, I DO want to learn more about prayer this year, in whichever ways I can. 

Maybe he's even in the paint

I am tired. And people keep telling me I look tired which is 1) annoying and 2) not terribly flattering to my delicate little flower ego. I put on the nicest clothes I have at this stage of life to head out to my friend's birthday dinner Tuesday night, and practically the first thing my other friend said to me when I picked her up was, "Have you been crying? Your eyes are red. Are they red because you're tired? You look so tired."

GEE, THANKS. 

But even if I have the face of a Haggard Old Woman, even if I am sleep deprived and totally worn out by the time I drop off the big kids at preschool, I do not feel tired in spirit. If that makes sense. I actually feel very much alive. I am excited about my life. I am aware of all the bits and pieces. 

There are a LOT of bits and pieces. I'm involved in planning so much right now, either my own stuff or group stuff or helping with other people's stuff - it's a lot of spreadsheets to track. I was telling my dad about some of it today and he said something like, "Gosh, Mags, you're into everything right now" and it really only hit me then. Yes, but I am okay. 

I am well. Even though there's a lot going on, even though a lot of it has potential for conflict and strife and confusion - I am well. I'm not afraid. I'm even excited to meet the challenges. When is THAT ever the case? 

I went to the NDCF fall retreat this weekend - well, the Saturday evening portion - because the guy who used to the lead the fellowship when Phillip and I were in college was the speaker and he's totally worth immersing oneself in a culture I left years and years ago. I was nervous I'd leave the weekend with Issues - not least of which would be Feeling Really Freaking Old. But instead I left with confidence and inspiration. I left knowing that ten (okay, more like twelve) years later, I am secure in who I am and what I'm doing. (Most days!)  

God is with me. I just know this. I watched those college kids and their intensity and tears and joy and just the highs and lows of their emotions - is there anything in between when you are nineteen with an undecided major? I sat in the back and just watched. I could see myself in them, but I no longer need a powerful Saturday night conversion experience to know that God is working in my life. As much as I miss that, as much as I sometimes feel like I DO need it - right now I just know. He is here. He is with me. He is totally cool hanging out in my mundane SAHM world. 

Some of you, in response to my last post, said that dying to my family is what is required of me right now. That's losing my life for Jesus. I agree with you. But it just doesn't feel like ENOUGH. Enough for ME. I want more than laundry and dishes and breastfeeding jail. I know that God is okay with me and I know that there are seasons, but I long for more. I want more of him. 

I am so good at filling my life with things. I've got a party, a blogger gathering, a girls' weekend in LA and family holiday stuff all on my plate right now. House projects, websites, preschool. Plus paint! Don't forget the paint. I could be so stressed out right now, but I'm not. I'm just... I have perspective, and you guys, I never have perspective. God is with me. And would it be weird to say God is with all of those things? Even the paint? I just feel like he totally knows me, he totally knows where I'm at and he's there in the phone calls and spreadsheets and instant messages and face to face conversations. 

When I have space to add something else (or maybe before then, since space never really seems to open up anyway) I'm... well, honestly, right now I have only the faintest glimmer of how I'm going to step forward with God. It happened for me at the retreat - so maybe I had the Saturday night conversion experience anyway. 

But did I tell you I'm tired. I'm so tired. And it's late and Emma is actually sleeping which means I should be sleeping too and I'm going to make myself stop trying to find the right words and just go to bed already. I just wanted to tell you that I'm excited to be busy with something else, even if it's not quite the right time. And maybe if I go to bed and sleep on it, I'll have the right words another day. 

 

Lose my life

It occurs to me that perhaps the reason I have nothing revelatory and awesome and smart and jaw dropping to post here is because I've been putting 'Spend Time With God' somewhere between 'Clean Bathrooms' and 'Box Up The Summer Clothes" on my to-do list. 

Poor neglected Catholic blog. 

I went to Mass Tuesday night. All Saints Day happens to be my favorite feast day, but also I just needed out of my house. I needed to go somewhere quiet and calm and peaceful. Even if that place is a cold church where the windowsills are lined with photos of dead people. Those nutty Catholics. 

I suppose All Saints Day is a strange one to make your favorite. I like that it takes place on a dark cold night, but isn't Good Friday and angling to make me feel terrible. And I like to remember the dead, and the more I think and learn about it, I really love the communion of saints. This would definitely be a top reason I couldn't go Protestant. 

But as I listened to the homily that night, I realized there's another reason I love this feast: the saints are like the valedictorians of faith, you know? They excelled. They won. They achieved the top level of holiness available to a mere human. This is all very inspiring to me. So all I gotta do is get MY head chopped off because I refuse to marry a pagan prince and I'm golden. I love the saints because I love success stories. Isn't that twisted?

I am not a saint. This much I know. I really do know - I read St. Theresa's book... shoot, what's it called?... and GOD KNOWS I am no St. Theresa. I am no St. Anything. The saints lost their lives for Jesus, both literally and figuratively. That IS what it takes and while I love reading about it, love knowing people actually did it, love that my faith celebrates these people and decorates their churches with their pictures, I will never be a saint myself. I love my life too much.

I love my free time. I love my credit card. I love furnishing my house. I love the internet. I love God, but not enough to close out of Pinterest and spend some time with him.

Of course, Pinterest is where I first saw this, in poster form: 

Jacob was a cheater, Peter had a temper, David had an affair, Lot got drunk, Jonah ran from God, Paul was a murderer, Gideon was insecure, Miriam was a gossiper, Martha was a worrier, Thomas was a doubter, Sara was impatient, Elijah was moody, Moses was a murderer & stuttered, Zacchaeus was short, Abraham was old, and Lazarus was DEAD. Now, what's YOUR excuse?

Maggie was lazy.

Maggie was prideful. 

Maggie really wanted to redecorate her entry way in time for her Christmas party in December. 

So much stands in the way between me and truly knowing Christ, between me and sainthood. 

Several years ago I stood during an All Saints Day Mass and remembered a good family friend who passed away that year, one of the few Catholics I knew who'd done mission work. Talk about the heroes of your faith. Will anyone ever put a picture of me on the church windowsill? 

At this rate? Doubtful. I am so ashamed of how little time I've spent with God lately. Like: NONE. It's one thing to have God in the back of your mind at all times, to bring him up here and there, to shout out to him in the car, while folding the laundry, when the baby barfs for the ninety-seventh time. It's another to sit down and really listen. To be still. To know him, to be known. Again, how can I have a relationship with God when I haven't called or emailed in months?

So the gospel this week? TOTAL DOWNER.

1“Then^* the kingdom of heaven will be like ten virgins who took their lamps and went out to meet the bridegroom. 2^* Five of them were foolish and five were wise. 3The foolish ones, when taking their lamps, brought no oil with them, 4but the wise brought flasks of oil with their lamps. 5Since the bridegroom was long delayed, they all became drowsy and fell asleep. 6At midnight, there was a cry, ‘Behold, the bridegroom! Come out to meet him!’ 7Then all those virgins got up and trimmed their lamps. 8The foolish ones said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil, for our lamps are going out.’ 9But the wise ones replied, ‘No, for there may not be enough for us and you. Go instead to the merchants and buy some for yourselves.’ 10While they went off to buy it, the bridegroom came and those who were ready went into the wedding feast with him. Then the door was locked. 11^* a Afterwards the other virgins came and said, ‘Lord, Lord, open the door for us!’ 12But he said in reply, ‘Amen, I say to you, I do not know you.’ 13^b Therefore, stay awake,^* for you know neither the day nor the hour.

While I find this parable more than a little convoluted and confusing, I declare one thing: when the bridegroom arrives, I may not have reached Saint Status, but he will know me. 

I am so tired. I don't know how to know him right now. I don't know how to lose my life for him. I feel like I'm losing it for everyone else instead. I want to curl up in his lap. I want him to read me a story with a soothing ending. I want him to say, "Don't worry, I'll give the baby a bottle tonight so you can get a little more sleep."

Turnaround

Was feeling depressed, fearful, intimidated, regretful. I am tired, short-tempered, no fun. How will having a newborn around make that any better? I'll be MORE tired, short-tempered, no fun. And I don't even want to think about labor. Except that I do, suddenly, all the time. How it starts in the morning and lasts all day, all night, then all the next day. Theoretically this third time could be faster, but oh God can I do that again? Can I do these next weeks? Do I even want to do this at ALL? 

I was wrapped up in how hard it will be to lose the baby weight, how much it hurts when they stick the IV in the back of your hand, how in the WORLD I am going to manage two different preschool schedules with a morning napper. Then a little voice called from the kids' bedroom: "I want Mommy to sweep with me."

And there's my Mollymoo, who ruined a nice long potty accident-free streak today, who's been exceptionally whiny and manipulative and downright liar liar pants on fire when it comes to her brother. And the only reason I lay down with her is because I would like to be laying down anywhere right now, so I do, and she's feeling chatty, not at all sleepy. 

Finally I say, "Molly, let's say our prayers."

She says, "We already said our prayers."

I say, "But we can say some more."

She looks at me. I look at her. It's dark. Jack is softly snoring, Molly's eyes are bright and inches away from mine. "What should we thank God for today?" 

She has no idea, because we only pray before dinner and before bed, this extra prayer is definitely extra. So I say, "Let's thank God for pink bikes." 

Now she has the idea. 

"Let's thank God for Grandma and Grandpa."

Yes. 

"Thank God for Baby Annah and Baby Billy." Our sponsored children. Yes. 

"Thank God for the closet." Sure. 

We thank God for every relative and every friend and every baby we know, several times over. We thank God for pink bikes and Jackson's blue bike. We thank God for preschool and crayons and the ceiling and the sink and Blue's Clues and Mommy's bed and the treats we get for going potty. 

I can't remember half of what she came up with, or what I suggested. All I know is I finally got her settled, content to be alone, and I left her room and went into mine and felt like thanking God for my own grown up things. Like my daughter and my son and our new house and my husband watching Louis C.K. in the living room and the freedom to go to bed at 9 and this hard little bottom shoved into my rib cage, with the little feet that jut out and wake me up at night. Also epidurals. 

I can do this. 

It's that time of year again

Our "couples weekend" is this weekend. I wish I had a better name for it. There are four couples (and nine, almost ten, children!) and we spend two or three days together talking and talking and talking. I've written about it before. Basically it's a time to do a yearly examen out loud, with dear and trusted friends. We've been through deaths, births (lots of those), job stuff, marriage stuff, depressions as well as highs, and plenty of questions of faith. Sometimes it turns into couples counseling. Sometimes its clear that one couple needs way more time than the rest of us. Sometimes we're in mourning, sometimes it's a total celebration. 

It's a little awkward telling other people what we do on our weekend. I mean, I just up and say, "We hear each other's stories and then we pray for each other. And we eat. A lot." Usually people think that's just swell and move on. But sometimes people seem a little weirded out by it. I guess because we're not a church group or bible study, just a group of friends who made a commitment to do this every year. AND IT'S BEEN SO GOOD. 

It's just nice to have this place where nothing falls through the cracks. Like if something were wrong in our marriage, it would come out here. Our friends don't hold back. They would hold us up and get us through whatever we were going through. That's probably the easiest-identified benefit. 

But it's also pretty awesome to pray for each other too. I look forward to it every year. I don't get to do that with just anyone. Hardly ever, really, and God is always with us. ALWAYS. It's kind of crazy, because we're not all super holy or anything (although one of us IS a campus ministry director, she probably wins the holy sweepstakes) and why should we hear so clearly once a year? But that same friend once said that she thinks God "honors" our weekend, that he loves that we've put aside time to do this once a year, and he always meets us. I think that could be it. 

I used to get all anxious about what I was going to SHARE and how I would SHARE it, but I'm a little older now, not to mention more tired, more busy, and more don't-care about the whole thing. I haven't given too much thought to what I will say about my year, other than 1) we survived grad school and 2) I would please like to have this baby NOW. But hopefully this just means I'll be more in tune with what the others are going to say, that I can really listen to them because I'm not obsessed about my own story.

Hopefully I will also not be obsessed with all the things I'm sure I won't get done in time - vacuuming, anyone? Sigh. 

A few bits and pieces

The girl I sponsored through RCIA 4 or 5 years ago is getting married at the end of September and just recently asked Phillip and me if we would be the Eucharistic ministers. My response was: GAK. First of all, I have this huge fear of Doing Things Incorrectly and whenever I have to do something at Mass besides sit in a pew I am anxious about it the entire time, terrified of missing my cue or whatever. I've never been a Eucharistic minister! Second of all, I haven't seen her in YEEEARS and we were never super good friends or anything and when I RSVPd to the wedding it was for the wedding only, not the reception. Also I will be HUGELY PREGNANT. Of course we will say yes because you don't say no to this sort of thing, but I am nervous. 

I had yet ANOTHER conversation about Catholicism with a non-Catholic. I continue to be hugely entertained by these conversations AND afraid of saying the wrong thing. Although in this case, the non-Catholic didn't appear to be interested in BECOMING Catholic, he was merely curious in a very scientific sort of way. Which was kind of fun, honestly. Also, Phillip was there too and that's ALWAYS a good thing when you're talking about stuff like this. 

I don't like the church by my new house. I'm just gonna say it. DO NOT LIKE. I could do a whole post on why, but my current church, in my opinion, does a lot of things better. It's true that I am also USED to my old church and know so many of the faces and that counts for a lot. We've now been to all the different Mass times at the new church and I know it's still summer, but we still don't see any young families there. Jack is still signed up for Pre-K and I'm being open to anything until Decemberish. That's when we'll know if 1) we can afford Catholic school and 2) when we'll have to officially switch parishes in order to get the in-parish rate for school tuition. But I don't feel all that hopeful. Either way I am planning to visit the public school this year to see what kind of feel I get there. 

In the meantime, one of my best church friends recently switched to the parish near her house and all I hear is how WONDERFUL it is. And, sad for me, wonderful in ways that sound right up my alley. She's telling me about prayer retreats and the priest's blog and a charismatic prayer group that meets in the evenings and because I am that self-centered, her enthusiasm just makes me mopey. 

It takes two to make a thing go ri-ight

While my husband is out obeying my order to procure chocolate ice cream, stat, I figured this would be a good time to discuss submission. HEH! 

I first heard about Submission, capital S, sometime in my NDCF years. And I was all, "Um, no." This is what I heard/saw when people talked about it (whether or not they were actually SAYING these things, I don't know, but this is how I interpreted it.)

1. Women are perfectly capable of leading, yes, but the HUSBAND is the head of the family and the spiritual leader. He gets the final say on everything. 

2. Women are to encourage and support their husbands in their endeavors and should really be aware of a tendency to criticize. 

3. (something I saw) Married women in ministry tended to take the back seat to their husbands (also in ministry). Ie: the husbands were ALWAYS giving talks, but the women (who I knew were perfectly capable and totally awesome at giving talks) rarely did after getting married. Or sort of dropped out of ministry all together. 

You guys, this was not at ALL what I intended for myself. I had plans. I had dreams. My number one goal was to move back overseas, preferably to Prague, where I would teach English and have myself a grand old time. Have you had the beer in Prague? Seen the buildings? I loved Italy, but I REALLY wanted to see the rest of Europe properly and this was the way I was going to do it. 

I also happened to be embarrassingly enthralled with a particular Devastatingly Handsome Chinese Man, but as he 1) showed no sign of interest in me and 2) I wasn't particulary stoked about the Proper Christian Marriage examples I saw, this little hiccup wasn't an immediate hindrance to The Plan. 

As far as I understood it, women were only supposed to submit/allow men to make the decisions/allow men to have all the leadership etc. because they were fragile little flowers with fragile little egos and if a woman came along and did everything better or righter, they'd be crushed. How were they supposed to be MEN if women were doing all the MEN things???

This completely grossed me out. 

I seriously felt like I was being told to hold myself back because a man wouldn't be able to handle my independence or intelligence. "Men just NEED to be the leader," some dudes in ministry would say and I'd be all, "Well, some other woman can coddle them then. NO, THANK YOU." 

I viewed it sort of like I view blog posts about modesty that decry women for tempting men. BARF. While I most certainly do approve of dressing APPROPRIATELY, it's not because all the men out there are apparently unable to control themselves. 

I just kept thinking: but what if I'm right? What if he's wrong? And not in the jokey way married people talk about, where "the wife is always right" and all that. Or what if he wanted to become, oh, I don't know, some Corporate IT Guy Who Travels A Lot and I was stuck at home being a stay at home mom? COULD THERE BE ANYTHING WORSE?!?!?!

I did not want to give anything up for a GUY. I would not be standing on the sidelines while the GUY got all the glory. And I was certainly not going to pretend to be a stupid little girl because GUYS can't handle REAL WOMEN.  THE END. 

Now, this is just me. I know other women who have other issues with the whole submission thing. This is just MY story. 

So anyway. Pissy pissy women's studies classes galore smartypantsness and real confusion and sadness over my favorite women leaders slowly backing away while their husbands took on greater roles. What was that about? 

And then I started dating Phillip. He was a guy, but he was not a GUY, he was an actual person named Phillip who turned out to really like me and like my ideas and my dreams and, dare I say, encouraged them? 

WHADDAYAKNOW?!

Not everyone finds a guy like this, but let me tell you: I highly recommend it. 

So I start dating this guy and after a while, by which I mean after many many confusing heartbreaking arguments, I realize that I have lumped him in with GUYS. I keep expecting him to overrule me. I keep expecting him to tell me he'd never go overseas with me. I just ASSUME that he thinks he's in charge! And I am not nice about it! 

But... he's so not like that. It takes me a while to figure that out. He actually doesn't have a big plan for his future. His plan is to (get this) be with ME. In whatever form that takes. He actually says, at one point, "If you want to go to Prague I'd go with you." And this is, like, a HUGE TURNING POINT FOR ME. 

And it's not like I suddenly had it all figured out or anything. But I realized that he 1) loved me and 2) wanted me to be happy doing 3) the things I wanted to do and achieve and be. Maybe it would have been different if he'd had a clear plan for himself. There would have been more discussion, I'm sure. But the summer we started dating I went on a two-month tour of Europe and was miserable because he wasn't there. And that's how I knew. EVERYTHING was lacking without Phillip. I would never go anywhere without him. I would so stinking BE a SAHM to be with him! 

That's not submission, though. That was the first part - realizing that I wanted him more than I wanted everything else. But then, once you HAVE him... then what? 

Marriage is not about compromise. It's about both people giving all that they have. And that's what I think submission is. In the comments to that post Manda talked about the rest of that scripture: 

21 and be subject to one another in the fear of Christ. 22 Wives, be subject to your own husbands, as to the Lord. 23 For the husband is the head of the wife, as Christ also is the head of the church, He Himself being the Savior of the body. 24 But as the church is subject to Christ, so also the wives ought to be to their husbands in everything. 25 Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ also loved the church and gave Himself up for her; 26 that He might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water with the word, 27 that He might present to Himself the church in all her glory, having no spot or wrinkle or any such thing; but that she should be holy and blameless. 28 So husbands ought also to love their own wives as their own bodies. He who loves his own wife loves himself; 29 for no one ever hated his own flesh, but nourishes and cherishes it, just as Christ also does the church, 30 because we are members of His body. 31 For this cause a man shall leave his father and mother, and shall cleave to his wife; and the two shall become one flesh. 32 This mystery is great; but I am speaking with reference to Christ and the church. 33 Nevertheless let each individual among you also love his own wife even as himself; and let the wife see to it that she respect her husband.

Dude. I have to respect you, but YOU have to DIE for me, sucka!

At this point in life/marriage I'm at peace with this submission thing. The decisions are Phillip's. That doesn't mean we don't talk about them, and I honestly can't think of a decision where he overruled me... but there ARE places where I just say, "That's all you." Mostly things about his work. And I do that because I totally support him AND I want him to be happy. If quitting his job tomorrow is what would make his world better, I support that. Even though yes, it would completely freak me out, I trust him, I support him, and I encourage him. And I do those things because I LOVE HIM. I WANT to do those things. I can still think of ways where this would feel like coddling a fragile ego, but because I love him and respect him, it's taking care of him. And it TOTALLY PAYS OFF. The loving looks I get in return for a well-timed sympathetic back rub are huge for me! 

Also, marriage, for me, made me turn inwards, towards my future family. Years later I totally get why a lot of those women leaders went into the background. They were trying for babies and making their homes and pretty much doing all the things I wanted - yes, WANTED - to do when I got married. I was perfectly happy to let Phillip take the reins while I stayed home with babies, and I wanted them WAY earlier than he did. I could hardly believe myself. What happened to all my independent career lady ideas? I even lost a friend over this, you guys, because she didn't get how I had changed. How I WANTED to change. 

Not everyone does. I get that. But for me, I was attached to a GUY who led without being obnoxiously leadery about it, and besides that, I completely trusted him to put me first. Even through all this business travel and school stuff, that's been my thing: I need to know that he puts me first. As long as I know that and trust it (and as long as he reminds me of it without being prompted!) I trust him to make all these decisions. 

I once heard a man in ministry say that submission meant the woman lets the man make the decisions, and the man makes the decisions in her favor. Again: works for me!

Probably the biggest most painful disagreement we have is how many kids we want. If he were willing, I'd probably have a few more after this one. Plus I think adopting. I think about fostering. I feel like we have this huge house and love and room to spare and sometimes I really think that's my vocation: to take care of kids. But Phillip is totally exhausted by the IDEA and after years - YEEEEEEARS - of talking about it and crying about it and not understanding or dealing with it, I think I'm okay. I can't force him, for one thing. But I also respect him. I love him. I trust him. I will let this go. 

I still, on the surface, have issues with submission. All the explanations seem lacking (see: this garbled post). I still look at all those exhortations to women about support and encouragement and being a cute, sweet, happy, pretty, peaceful, safe wife and want to roll my eyes. Then again, I am living the life and it just sort of WORKS. For us. I've seen what support and encouragement DOES. I need different things, usually, and he gives me those things and when we're both giving our best, that's when marriage is the best. It HAS to work both ways, and I'm lucky that I found someone for whom that's a total no brainer. 

Okay I'm tired and my ice cream is here. Sorry this is AS USUAL incoherent. Such is blogging at 10pm. 

 

Aren't I too old for this?

Confession: I feel bored with church. 

GAK.

I am unclear on WHY I feel bored. Here are my possible reasons/theories:

• It's summer. Summer makes me lazy.
• I was more enthralled by the guest priest from Trinidad than I realized and now everything seems lame in comparison. 
• I keep having conversations with people about Protestant Church and sometimes I feel like I just want to show up at one of THOSE services and sing some good songs and hear some good preaching and go home, the end. 
• It's just one of those Times In My Life. 
• I am not super excited about our experiences at the church near our house, but I don't feel called to stay or leave our current church, in fact I feel nothing about any of it, and this makes me Apathetic and Avoidy.
• I am just REALLY REALLY LAZY and summer has nothing to do with it. 

Hrrrmmm. 

I picture the Strong Catholics in the crowd encouraging me to keep plugging along, it's not about feelings and excitement, everyone has dry spells, blah blah blah. And I feel like they are right, except I am still not HAPPY about it, and I want to sign up for some crazy charismatic retreat where, I don't know, SOMETHING WILL HAPPEN. 

I am bored with nothing happening. 

I was reading something about YA lit the other day and it was talking about how when you're a teenager everything is at an extreme, and you just FEEL everything to the max and it's glorious and wretched at the same time. And then you become a grown up and sometimes you miss the passion and the drama, but you realize (hopefully) that it's better to be a more even-keeled adult... Something like that. I'm not explaining it very well. 

And this was a STUNNINGLY LATE conclusion for me, but I was suddenly all: DUDE! This is why it's so hard to leave a college fellowship. You are used to super highs and major lows and Adult Faith is just, you know, boring. And because it's not so roller coastery you feel like you're doing something wrong, that you've lost something, that you are in the wrong place. (Or is this just me?)

And Adult Faith is not BORING necessarily. Especially when my friends keep telling me stories about Adults who adopt sibling groups from the Congo or lead prayer retreats or still work in college ministry (which, honestly, only makes me feel bad about my nice house and my addiction to Project Runway.) And really it ISN'T boring. I am just in a cranky mood right now. Sorry.

Addictions to Project Runway or not, we're not ALL called to the missions field or the sisterhood or intense adoption situations or even, you know, lectoring at church. But our faith, our relationship with Jesus, it's supposed to be sublime ANYWAY. And I think right now I am just mad at all my regular routes to God because they feel definitely lacking in the sublime. It must be everyone's fault but mine. 

So if I just go to the super liberal Catholic church in the mixed neighborhood, with the gospel choir and the crazy friendly people - THAT will make everything better. If I go to my friends' non-denominational church and sing some good worship songs for an hour - that will make everything better. Maybe if I read a good churchy book (confession: I don't think I have ever made it through a Phillip Yancey/Max Lucado type book in my entire life, and remind me to tell you about the time my summer roommate found out I was going to start DATING OMG and immediately handed me her copy of Elisabeth Elliot's Passion & Purity AND HOW IT TOTALLY WIGGED ME OUT.) 

I don't know. Where is my Big Flashy Sign? Honestly, God must get so irritated with me. But I just don't know right now. I'm not FEELING it. And I am SUCH a feely person. I can't help it. 

High Horse: Am On One

Did I tell you that I had a big conversation about Becoming Catholic with the girl who cuts my HAIR? I don't think I did. This was a while ago, and she was more of the Lapsed Catholic Now Considering A Grand Return, If It Wasn't For Her Not-Religious Husband And More General Objects In The Way sort of person. And again I had to restrain myself from busting out the YAY JESUS! and tried to be a normal person, at least a normal person with her hair all wet and unattractive-like, while she cautiously then more openly gave me the history of her own faith. (It just CAME OUT. It was kind of awesome.) I so wanted to be encouraging, but I never know what to say. In the end I feel like maybe it is just enough, at least in that moment, to be a Young-Ish Person Who Believes In That Stuff And Says So Out Loud. 

(The "young-ish" isn't going to last much longer, is it. Oh well.) 

Anyway, between her and my Inquirer and, believe it or not, about nine million coments sections on posts about NFP, I have been THINKING. Mostly about "meeting someone where they're at" and I just wonder if such a thing is even possible. I'm starting to think only God can do this. Or people who are extraordinarily gifted. (Read: NOT ME.) 

Say my stylist and my Inquirer are at one end of the spectrum. Some Protestant people I know would say they are "young in their faith". I would agree, though I feel awfully young in my faith as well and therefore should just keep my mouth shut. 

THEN you have the people who write comments on NFP posts. If you have not ventured into the murky depths that are those comboxes, they are, more often than not, filled with people attacking from the Right. By which I mean... well, they are writing things like, "REAL Catholics shouldn't use NFP EVER!" The words "contraceptive mentality!" are bandied about. They're talking about the RIGHT WAY to do NFP or the idea that even NFP isn't truly "allowed", when, in my experience, hardly anyone knows what NFP IS. In my view, those people are well on the other end of the spectrum. I don't know if it's true to say they are "old" in their faith (you know what I mean) (though I'm sure many of them are) but they are certainly not people who are wondering about exceptions for abortion and women priests and gay marriage and some of the other hot topics that a lot of people-considering-the-church have issues with. I mean, they are not sitting around going, "Do I REALLY think the host turns into Jesus' ACTUAL BODY?"

Does that make sense?

Anyway, those NFP comboxes drive me up forty-seven walls. Not least because I feel like it's a bunch of hard core Catholic infighting. Not that those fights aren't worth having (and man do they make ME think) but I often end up wanting to shout: do you know how many Catholic couples have never even HEARD of NFP? Don't you think you should be talking about THAT? Or how many Catholic couples hear of it but laugh it away? Or how no one ever mentions it? EVER? Shouldn't you be starting THERE? 

In all the NFP comboxes I have immersed myself in (and that would be a lot) I've read exactly one comment saying, in effect, "Perhaps we should try meeting people where they're at."

YA THINK?*

But this is not about NFP. (Man, I wish I were brave enough to write about that. But not now!) 

It's just... it's easier to infight. You know? It's easier to get all up in someone else's business about what you know to be true and how they're obviously doing it wrong. Why try to generously, quietly, lovingly listen and attempt to encourage someone who is young in their faith when you can get into these heady holier than thou arguments instead? 

Like, it would have been a lot easier to take some of my Inquirer's questions and turn it into a Discussion About Abortion. Or about Marriage. Or whatever. I am fairly well versed in the rules for those things and have gone through a similar struggle abotu What I Think and I, personally, think MY views on the topics are the most enlightening and easiest to understand and obviously CORRECT. It would have been easy (had I the stomach to talk about Controversial Things) to school her on what are undoubtedly real and important issues related to being A Churchgoer. 

It is NOT as easy to have humility, to understand that you yourself are in a different place, that someone who has yet to struggle through certain issues can't be expected to fling off years of living a certain way in order to fulfill what they see as The Person They SHOULD Be If They Are To Be A Churchgoer. 

It is REALLY hard to sit there and be quiet, and even harder to have to answer a question without 1) compromising what you believe and 2) discouraging someone who needs encouragement more than anything. 

You either have to be super gifted at this or content to swallow a lot of what you think you should say. I am neither super gifted or content - I swallow because I'm terrified of saying the wrong thing. 

I know there are places for infighting and super intellectual debate and, yes, hard core NFP comments that make me feel less-than even though they are not written expressly for me and I should probably not read them in the first place. I totally respect people who can GO there, you know? Again, I don't have the stomach for it. And I just don't think that's where I'm supposed to be anyway. I am no apologist. I am no theologian or minister or grad student or even Super Smart Thinky Person. My gift is to feel empathy for people who are searching - empathy that lasts weeks, months, years in some cases - and to lift them up where they are. As much as I write through it and try to figure it out, I don't know how to meet them. I know God can. I know he does. 

Anyway... what is the point of me writing this? Er... I guess I'm just feeling frustrated by my inability to do this well, and what I see as an inability of others to even try. Just call me Judgy McInternet! 

Next time: when the Protestants in the room heard a bunch of Catholics discussing baptism and murmured amongst themselves, "how weird..." It was kinda funny. 

 

*I realize those comment sections aren't typically the places Inquirers go to for information. But they just often feel un-loving to me and make me worried about WHAT IF an Inquirer reads it. My thing, not theirs. Have at it, NFP commenters! You DO provide me hours of stress, if nothing else. 

Though I'm a king, I'm a king on my knees

Thanks for your thoughts on my Inquirer and your own experiences. The most helpful thing for me was "if you can say and believe the Creed, you're all good." At least at the start, right? I recently friended my Inquirer on Facebook (I NEVER FRIEND ANYONE) (though I accept friend requests! Am not total heathen!) just to stay in contact. I think I'm going to offer to be an "extra" sponsor or something... just another someone to talk to, at least. Or just make the Inquirer aware that I'd love to stay in the process. If that's not too obnoxious. 

And while my Inquirer is figuring out what it means to be a bad Catholic, I feel like I already know. I'm just not in The Place right now, you know? I am currently worshipping at the altar of Pinterest and Spray Paint. I'm throwing a party this weekend and when a party is on my calendar I pretty much exclude every other priority. I'm AWARE of this, at least, and as I'm decorating my house I'm finding I'm putting up a lot more "religious stuff" than I have in the past. I've always had my Polish pottery cross hanging somewhere, but I finally put up my picture of Eve and Mary, and without really thinking I stuck a little laminated card of Mary and the baby Jesus in the kitchen windowsill crack. I look at it every time I wash dishes. I'm not gonna be, you know, sticking up vinyl Bible verses or anything, but I think it's good to have little reminders of the Actual Priority when I'm just going about my house business.

In other news I'm still processing a recent argument with Phillip. There's always the reason for the argument, and then the REAL reason you're fighting. The worst is when you realize that the Real reason is one of your Fatal Flaws, or just one of the ways that you are inherently broken inside. 

Like one of my possibly-never-to-be-healed breaks (and, I'd imagine, the same break a lot of women have) is this dark abiding fear that one day my husband will decide I am too much. I am too hard, too much work, too crazy, too everything. That his life would be so much easier without me in it. That I make everything more difficult, more stressful. 

This fear was especially front and center when I was dealing with anxiety on a daily basis. I really had no idea how hard it was for Phillip (though he will never ever convince me that it was harder on him that it was on me!) I still don't know. And there were times I rationed my heart... like I just wouldn't tell him what was going on because THAT would be the crazy that would destroy everything, and he'd leave and go find himself a nice mentally-balanced girl who likes to sleep in in the mornings. 

Reading up on the enneagram (SORRY, that again!) was actually really helpful. Turns out my husband is the type that REALLY hates having to Deal with things, especially wives who don't know how to relax, who go go go on a Saturday morning, who like to do work intensive things like constantly invite guests over to eat. And it's not that he doesn't enjoy projects or company, he just... does them at his own speed. But another thing about his type is a happy willingness to go along with whatever someone else wants to do (me) and then not realizing until later how it made him tired or prevented him from doing something else. 

I, obviously, am not sympathetic. I do not work that way. I do not understand it. I get really super duper angry when it's implied that I "made" him do something when I most certainly did NOT. 

But that's not the real reason I'm angry. I'm angry because I'm scared, and I'm scared that once again, I have been Too Much. 

Because it makes sense to me, you know? I AM too much. I am the one who's always enthusiastic about more babies. I'm the one who thinks the entire kitchen should be spotless by the time guests arrive. I'm the one who has the spray paint obsession. I'm the one who thinks up the vacations and plans the social engagements and insists on yard work. I'm the light sleeper. I am on freaking MEDICATION! When will he decide enough is enough? 

It's not a REAL fear. I mean, I am not sitting here biting my nails wondering if Phillip will come home tonight. But it IS one of those dark icky deep-inside fears where you keep your "am I good enough?" and "am I worthy?" and "am I loved?" thoughts. It's not just me who has those, right?

But I am not too much for God. I am telling myself this fact over and over today. I am not too much for God. I am not too much for God.