tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34281090781266163952024-03-13T06:01:51.261-07:00As the Family Goes"Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?" (Matthew 6:26)Natashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905668756839117702noreply@blogger.comBlogger328125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428109078126616395.post-86643732058414662812021-01-02T09:44:00.001-08:002021-01-02T10:04:35.432-08:002021: A Time to be Generated<p>Back in the fall I wanted to make my workspace beautiful, so
I bought a pair of succulents. I chose
these plants specifically because I read that they do not require much care
(watering once a month), and this suits my busy life: I don’t have much to give
but I still want beauty. To my dismay
one of them started dying, and I thought maybe plant ownership just isn’t for
me. I began watering more frequently to
keep the soil damp, as my plants lost their color and the leaves closest to the
soil began breaking off. Strangely the stem continued to
reach higher, even as the base was dying. My husband said this was because it
was searching for the sun and, not finding it in the lower part of the stem, it
reached aimlessly upwards in search of what it was lacking. I can’t do much,
but I can move my plants to the windowsill when I get up in the morning, and
this has made a world of difference. The
lower leaves are stronger, color has returned, and the plant is being
generated. It has found what it was searching for.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This to me provides an interested analogy for the Christian
walk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a homeschooling mother of eight,
I know what it means to be busy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have
spent years of my life working just to stay afloat, daily life consumed me, and
I found that all I was really doing was just “busy work”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was consumed with tasks that seemed
never-ending, but in the end gave little life – like that green stem reaching
aimlessly, knowing that it was missing something as beneath it things continued
to die.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">No matter how busy we are, we need to be generated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And just like the plant, often the solution
is deceptively simple.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A small change to
our daily routine, that puts us in the sun’s rays and not hidden away in
darkness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Only in our case it is not the sun, but the Son
that will bring life to our days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
will break into the endless cycle of tasks that repeat and fill them will
meaning and joy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He will provide the backdrop
for which we can engage in our lives with new meaning and deeper purpose – but even
more than this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He will cause such joy to
well up in us that we will be compelled to make time to share Him and what he’s
done with the rest of the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He will
not make us less busy, but he will generate something new in us, so that our busyness
does not define us – our love for him does.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">If you are feeling tired going into 2021, you’re not
alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most of us feel that way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s been a difficult year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But try for a minute to invite someone into your
life who has just met Jesus for the first time, and watch how that transforms
you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We need to evangelize like we need
to breathe, like a plant needs the sun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We need it, because it generates something new in us, to share Jesus
with someone and watch them come alive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It reminds us of why we first fell in love with him, and awakens our
hearts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have never been more busy in
my life, but I have also never been more happy, because my busyness is directed
by the Lord.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we find our source in him
he won’t keep us to ourselves, he’ll send us out. We may think it is for
others, and that is true.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But is also
for us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We need to share the Gospel, we
need to be connected to the love of Christ that generates something new inside
of us, and gives us the strength we need to encounter him in any circumstance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We need friendship, we need community, and we
need Jesus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">As we step into 2021, my prayer for each one of us is that we
connect ourselves anew to the love of Jesus, allow him to generate us, and watch
where the Lord brings us in this new year. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--lSnGm3WTlA/X_CvYmXLDVI/AAAAAAAACDI/JM6ia9MUWLEzVXqpww08xz1TR4WUMsjfgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1440/blog.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--lSnGm3WTlA/X_CvYmXLDVI/AAAAAAAACDI/JM6ia9MUWLEzVXqpww08xz1TR4WUMsjfgCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h300/blog.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span><p></p>Natashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905668756839117702noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428109078126616395.post-4236237782197707682020-05-11T07:48:00.001-07:002020-05-11T08:00:24.255-07:00How Much Less to Dwell in MeYesterday in our Diocese, the faithful were invited to receive Communion for the first time since St. Patrick's Day, when the last Mass took place and churches were closed in accordance with Government guidelines to prevent the spread of Covid 19. I was surprised by the mix of emotions I had as we received Him in this unusual way.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
In general I have been finding that this first relaxation of limits somehow makes living these days more painful than when we couldn't do anything. With my family for example, being able to have only one bubble (one family that you see exclusively, and must be a mutual choice between the two of you), reminds me of all the others I long to be with but can't. There is so much consolation in spending time with our loved ones who are in our bubble without having to social distance and still, simultaneously, the sorrow that there are many others we'd like to be with in this way but can. It help us to appreciate so much more the time with those in our bubble, and look forward to the day when life and relationships can call resume their normal course with a deep longing.<br />
<br />
This is how I felt coming to the Eucharist yesterday. Our Cathedral offered a livestreamed Mass, and then invited parishioners to come to the Cathedral where clergy would distribute Communion, and so we took part in this. It was striking to arrive at the Cathedral and see all the vehicles lined up. Volunteers were ready to receive each vehicle and give instructions for how to receive (a limited number of parishioners were let into the church at a time, with masks, to receive Communion, and we all parked and waited to be instructed to go in). And while I thought I would only come with joy at being able to once again receive the Lord with my whole family, there was also a pang of sorrow. I was reminded how this gesture is simultaneously beautiful, but also, not normal. It created an even deeper longing to be back in our churches, with our entire community, and to receive without all these barriers. Don't get me wrong, I'm so SO grateful that we are even able to receive at all (it feels like a miracle, when all around us places are not even close to this). But still, there is a longing.<br />
<br />
My daughter is preparing for her First Communion, and this morning in her lessons she was learning about how God, who is so big, makes Himself so small to come to us. And again I had this image of yesterday. Of Him coming to us in the form of a piece of bread so small that it can be put into our hands. Penetrating every barrier that is still in place to come to us in whichever way He possibly can. How many times have I come to the Eucharist and never truly contemplated this? In a very real way, through our shared suffering and inconvenience, Christ penetrates every habit and mindless act of our hearts and turns everything on its head.<br />
<br />
Why would we go to such lengths as we did yesterday? Why would priests scramble to organize outdoor Masses, with all the complicated logistics that entails? Why would volunteers stand in the cold and wind to direct traffic, and count people on their way into the church? Why doesn't TV Mass suffice? Because the Jesus we have been without for so long is truly present in the Eucharist that can be met in no other way. I have found such grace in praying the Spiritual Act of Communion during this time, and I know Jesus has sustained me. But even that pales in comparison to what we received yesterday, and in fact, what we have received every single time we attended Mass before there ever was a pandemic, but did not truly understand. It is this pain, this suffering, these barriers, that make me understand how truly small Jesus makes Himself, what risks He takes and the lengths He's willing to go to, in order to be received by me. <br />
<br />
I will not stop praying for the day when, as the Pope invites us to pray, "God will stretch out his all-powerful hand and free us
from this terrible pandemic, so that life can serenely resume its normal
course." But until that day comes, I will give thanks for this sorrow and discomfort, that makes it truly apparent the lengths Jesus goes to in order to be close to us.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6mq8tSOmgKo/XrlktvKNbeI/AAAAAAAACAA/BJTC-EBR1IEumzIuutdvM-JXOo0nJVorQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6mq8tSOmgKo/XrlktvKNbeI/AAAAAAAACAA/BJTC-EBR1IEumzIuutdvM-JXOo0nJVorQCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/blog.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<i>"All the Heavens cannot hold you Lord,</i><br />
<i>How much less to dwell in me?</i><br />
<i>I can only make my one desire </i><br />
<i>Holding on to Thee." </i><br />
<i>(Third Day)</i><br />
<i></i>Natashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905668756839117702noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428109078126616395.post-11257935842620664262020-04-22T16:11:00.000-07:002020-04-22T16:11:24.815-07:00Snow in April"Mom, it's snowing!" the kids announced shortly after lunch. Today was a heavy day. For no real reason, I just felt the weight of everything. I was easily distracted, unmotivated, had difficulty focussing. Daily tasks piled up, homeschooling was way behind schedule, and I felt everything. My husband, knowing how good it is for me to get out and clear my head, suggested I go out for a run. But I didn't want to. It was snowing in April.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
Every step felt sluggish. In the beginning, all I could think was how much I did not want to be running. It was cold, and I was just...tired. <br />
<br />
My regular route passes our parish. Until recently I just ran past on my way by, but since Masses have been suspended I have gotten into the habit of stopping at the end of my run to pray outside before returning home. In order to time it properly so that I get a full 5 km run in, I have to run just a little farther before I turn back around. Today, I thought about not doing that. I thought about just running past, and visiting later or another day. <br />
<br />
But with each step I took, the familiar prayers of the rosary guiding me as they always do, I began thinking less and less of how hard this was. Before I knew it, and with little effort I was running the full way. I knew I did not want to miss the opportunity to be my Lord.<br />
<br />
I ran up the steep driveway to our church and laid straight back on the lawn. I looked up at the sky, with the steeple pointed to Heaven and closed my eyes. I prayed the words of the Salve Regina, the cool wind blowing across my face,<br />
<br />
<i>Ad te clamamus, exsules filii Hevae</i><br />
<i>Ad te suspiramus, gementes et flentes</i><br />
<i>In hac lacrimarum valle</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
And then, a light refreshing coolness on my face. Snow, in April.<br />
<br />
What had at the beginning of my run been my biggest objection was now a welcomed grace. Doing the work I did not want to do had, in fact, transformed my position. Coming before Jesus exhausted, having given my best, I was now able to see this not as punishment, but gift.<br />
<br />
Don't get me wrong, I am eager for Spring to return. I am happy to have snow stay in the season where it belongs. Where I can anticipate and prepare for it. I do not want snow in April to continue forever. But as long as its here Jesus, help me to see the grace that is present. So that it may sustain me on this unknown and mysterious road you have set before me.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ofxb4XMCLVs/XqDOdv7-X9I/AAAAAAAAB_w/buD9JgCU9lsChZsbMNfiTvby6UrG-16_ACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ofxb4XMCLVs/XqDOdv7-X9I/AAAAAAAAB_w/buD9JgCU9lsChZsbMNfiTvby6UrG-16_ACLcBGAsYHQ/s400/blog.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<i></i><i></i><br />Natashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905668756839117702noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428109078126616395.post-60388026666286789482020-04-15T09:35:00.000-07:002020-04-15T09:35:50.168-07:00What the Sign Indicates Really Happens"This is the height which Christ reached as Lord of history. In His Resurrection, He has set the terms of assimilation to Himself, of His glory, of His making explicit that in Him all things consist, everything belongs to Him. The assimilation of Christ brought about by Baptism is the Resurrection of Christ that penetrates history; it is the Body of the risen Christ that grows ever more according to the times of the Mystery of the Father. And the gesture that makes the new creature possible, the one re-made by the power of God and therefore capable of new things, is the Eucharist,<i> viaticum,</i> food for the journey, true nourishment for the person and for his hope. In this gesture, in giving Himself, Christ continues to bring man to perfection in Himself. Under the sign of matter, what the sign indicates really happens - Christ becomes one with me. An unimaginably profound ontological relationship is truly communicated to our life in a sign." (Msgr. Luigi Giussani).<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
I have been think a lot lately about how to live out a true devotion to the Eucharist in a time when we are not able to receive. It is strange to be in the season of Easter, and see our Lord passed from death to new life, and yet not be able to receive this food for the journey that is so crucial to us. As I read the above quote yesterday, it was difficult to reconcile Giussani's words with what our current circumstances (and I have to believe, God through those circumstances) are asking us to live.<br />
<br />
The only way I can know to relate to this reality is through my own vocation of marriage. When my husband and I, after many years of dating, began to seriously discern marriage, there was a time of waiting. We were both preparing our hearts for the day we would enter into this sacrament, which we desired with all of our being. It was not easy to save the union of ourselves for that day, which seemed so far on the horizon (as most dating couples can attest to). We knew of course, what God was asking us to choose, and we whole-heartedly embraced that. But that did not make the daily living out of this reality easy by any means. All our efforts, desires, every moment of our daily living was focussed on the day when we would enter into the sacrament of marriage and be one with each other and the Lord. It was intense, beautiful, but also full of painful longing. <br />
<br />
When I think of this moment we are living as a church, it makes most sense to me in this context: a painful longing. We know we will receive Jesus again. But unlike a dating couple, we don't know the timeline, which can make it even more painful. Also unlike a dating couple, we have already been one with the Lord in the Sacrament of the Eucharist. So maybe a better comparison would be periods of abstinence within marriage. This too, is a reality we well know. Any couple who practices Natural Family Planning knows that at least once a month, there will be a period of abstinence. On the surface and when we are not in the middle of this time, we know that it is good. That it is a time to reconnect and build intimacy in other ways, the famous "better communication" that NFP is touted for facilitating. But the reality of those moments is that when you are in the middle of them, it is difficult. No matter how level-headed and surrendered to the Lord's will you happen to be, there is still a huge sacrifice that is being asked of you. I can only imagine how much more intense this would be if such an abstinence was not just a month-to-month occurrence but in fact, a daily reality, imposed by illness or other factors that surely prevent some couples from being able to take part in the physical expression of their Sacrament.<br />
<br />
Does that then mean, that such couples are no longer married? Of course not! And in the same way, I believe that not being able to receive the Eucharist in these days does not mean we are cut off from Jesus in any way, shape or form. Think of how many times, each of us over the course of our lives, has received Christ - body, blood, soul and divinity. "Under the sign of matter," Giussani writes, "what the sign indicates<i> really</i> happens - Christ becomes one with me." If we believe this is true, then we must believe that just as a married couple who finds themselves in a period of abstinence does not cease to be married, neither do we who have received over and over again our Lord into our bodies cease to be one with Him. We can still live out this devotion to Him, in the full confidence that He continues to be food for our journey even in these days when it is not possible to receive him into our bodies.<br />
<br />
This will not, however, be without suffering, and anyone who thinks that the awareness of this will somehow make these days easier is mistaken. If a spouse in abstinence did not miss the physical union with his wife immensely, we could ask ourselves how truly he loved her in the first place. Because spouses who love each other want to be together, they want to be in union. The same is true of us with our Eucharistic Lord. We will miss receiving Him, and it will be painful. But we can still live a true devotion to Him from that longing.<br />
<br />
For starters, if you are able to visit a church parking lot, you should. This same Jesus who just one month ago we received into our bodies is still inside every tabernacle in every Catholic church, and we can be there with Him. We can make a practice of taking time out of our day if possible, to pray with Him.<br />
<br />
We can also use this time to remain faithful to our own observances of Mass and Adoration as we did before all of this came to be. If you would normally go to Mass or Adoration during the week, then get ready at those same times every day, and watch a televised Mass, or simply have a private prayer time. For televised Masses where possible, look for live Masses, so that you can be united in real time with the consecration of the Eucharist. Say often the prayer of spiritual communion, and believe that what it promises will happen - that Jesus will never permit us to be separated from Him.<br />
<br />
We can live these days as a courtship with Jesus. Couples approaching the Sacrament of marriage have complete understanding of the goodness of the Sacrament they are journeying towards, that's why the waiting is so difficult. But it is also full of goodness and grace, for those willing to invite God into the waiting. <br />
<br />
Finally, I encourage you not to waste these days. We have all seen the Facebook posts from people telling us to use this time to reflect, take up a new hobby, etc. etc. (and the resulting backlash from parents of small children everywhere who, rightly, point out that many of us don't have more free time, we in fact have much less!) But while we are not so much idle in our daily duties, we can easily become consumed in them, and become idle in our faith. It takes so much work not to just be at the whim of constant pressures and duties that seem to continually impose themselves and distract us, and while we can't ignore these (especially as regards caring for our children), if we do not take care to find beautiful moments in the midst of all of this, we will quickly lose ourselves and our desire.<br />
<br />
Msgr. Giussani says that, " what a person really wants, you understand not
from his work or studies (that is to say, what he is obliged to do by
conventions or by social necessity), but by how he uses his free time. If a kid
or a mature person wastes free time, he doesn’t love life; he is a fool. [...]
Vacation is the most noble time of the year because it is the moment when you
involve yourself as you like with what you value the most in life or you don’t
involve yourself with anything, at which point, you’re a fool. [...] If
vacation does not help you remember what you would want to remember the most,
if it does not make you better in the relationship with others, but makes you
more impulsive, if it does not help you learn to look at nature with a deep
intentionality, if it does not help you make sacrifices with joy, recreation
time misses its mark." While this is not a vacation, his words here certainly ring true for me.<br />
<br />
Nobody knows yet how long these circumstances will go on. But we know that what the sign of the Eucharist indicates<i> really does happen</i>. Jesus really did rise from the dead, He really comes to us under the appearance of bread and wine. We really do receive Him into our bodies and are changed through that Sacrament, becoming more like Him. And He really does continue to reside in our tabernacles in Catholic churches around the world. He never stops moving in our hearts or our lives, and through the pain of these days I pray that we will all find meaningful ways to stay connected to that truth. To live the Resurrection as an objective fact that has happened to us, and transforms these days of darkness into something beautiful and true. Not without pain or sadness, for there will be much of this. But also, full of the joy and hope that comes with knowing that we have been united with Him, that we have put on Christ in our baptism, received Him in the Eucharist, and will one day again be united with Him in this Most Holy Sacrament.<br />
<br />
Until then, let us live in joyful hope. Alleluia! Alleluia!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-C8CARx4qZ5g/Xpc2C3AyMjI/AAAAAAAAB_U/H08GtitYsucLM3L9zZlyM09AiBrgnm3pwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1280" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-C8CARx4qZ5g/Xpc2C3AyMjI/AAAAAAAAB_U/H08GtitYsucLM3L9zZlyM09AiBrgnm3pwCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/blog.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<i></i>Natashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905668756839117702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428109078126616395.post-65721203575426063222020-04-12T12:47:00.000-07:002020-04-12T12:47:52.462-07:00Do Not Spare UsI have been reflecting over this Easter Triduum what a grace it has been that I still have a domestic church to live my faith with. It has been a real comfort to still gather the kids, and even the small annoyances of trying to plan meaningful gestures with kids become a comfort, because they make them more real and true to what we would have been living if churches had not been closed. We have been almost as busy during this last week as we normally are, and in many ways this has been a blessing, because it connects us to the universal church. In many ways, we have not missed too much.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /><br />
Typically once we've gone to the Easter Vigil, that's it. We've had three days in a row at that point, of long Masses and wrangling kids, and we've done our part. Easter Sunday morning is reserved for resting and taking in the goodness of this season. But given our circumstances this year, I really felt drawn to watch our Cathedral's livestream this morning too. I thought, "we'll just play it by ear and see how things go in the morning." And by the time this morning arrived, it was so much on my heart to share in this moment with our diocesan church. An older child of mine objected, feeling that surely we had met our obligation, which we had. But this was not an obligation, this was a call of love. And the more life demands of us, the more we find ourselves in need of grace.<br />
<br />
There were so many things that struck me about this liturgy. Because I always attend the Easter Vigil, I was not familiar with the readings of Easter Sunday, and my gosh - are they beautiful! There was so much that struck me in a new way in this Mass today, precisely because of the moment we are living, but particularly the position of Mary discovering the empty tomb. As I listened to the Gospel account, I felt that we are in such a unique moment where we are before the empty tomb and yet, cannot see the Lord as we are used to: we cannot receive Him in the Eucharist. We don't have that physical consolation of his Body and Blood. <br />
<br />
I realized however, that in that moment Mary did not receive the Eucharist either. She knew who He was not by a physical touch, but when He called her by name:<br />
<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Thinking he was the gardener, she said, 'sir, if you have taken him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him.' Jesus said to her, 'Mary'. She turned toward him and cried out in Aramaic, 'Rabboni', which means teacher." (John 20:15-16)</blockquote>
<br />
<br />
Though we too stand before the empty tomb looking, and though we can't find him as we expect Him (Mary was one of his closest friends, surely she knew what he looked like!) we can wait and listen for Him to say our name in these days. It may not feel familiar, it may not be what we are used to. But we can find Him waiting.<br />
<br />
I sat with this as Mass continued, and our Bishop gave a great homily about how we can trust that the Resurrection is in fact true - one, because there is so much historically verifiable proof from the time that it occurred, but also because we continue to feel and experience Jesus today, in the present. And while I had the hope and even the joy that this happens, there remained the feeling that something still is different this year. And I think for me, that difference is what really helps to make Christ present in a new way.<br />
<br />
It would be easy to replicate our experiences of faith, to watch an online Mass and consider that we had done a good job. To adjust ourselves and carry on. But there is that one moment where we are painfully aware, that something continues after our livestreams are over - and it is the Eucharist. When we see Him being consecrated before our eyes through a television screen and know that for now, we cannot be close to Him or receive Him, we understand that something has changed fundamentally. That Catholic Mass is fundamentally different than any other inspirational sermon or video we will watch and listen to. While these may bring us hope and consolation, the Mass leaves us longing. It shows us Jesus before our very eyes, the Jesus who asks us to wait for Him. The Jesus who pushes us outside of our own understanding of what it means to be in relationship with Him. Like Mary, we may feel that we know Him well. And yet standing before the empty tomb we can become disoriented, confused, unsure of the way. Like Mary, we long to hear Him say our names, and He does! He really does.<br />
<br />
Last night I was full of joy that comes from Lent being over, from all of our efforts culminating into one glorious night, where we can say over and over, Alleluia! and know beyond the shadow of a doubt that He is truly risen. And this morning I still feel all of those things, but also a longing. And a gratitude that the Church does not spare us that which will cause us pain or confusion. Because I have hope that this is temporary, and that we will find ourselves on the other side of this one day soon. But I also have the assurance that, like Mary, we will know through this period of sacrifice and confusion, the experience of being called by name. And that in hearing Him, the one we know and love so well, speaking directly to our hearts, we will know it is truly Him. We may still not recognize the road He has called us to. But we will know in a new way, that this teacher who is our friend, has truly risen from the dead. And we will follow Him wherever he, in His mercy, leads us.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XI2eFIaTaXQ/XpNu-TpcJQI/AAAAAAAAB_A/lhtYXoUrug0EYnFN7WPjzHaNY6syYv9YACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XI2eFIaTaXQ/XpNu-TpcJQI/AAAAAAAAB_A/lhtYXoUrug0EYnFN7WPjzHaNY6syYv9YACLcBGAsYHQ/s400/blog.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<i>"Precisely the challenges that reality does not spare us can become our greatest allies, because they force us to look more deeply at what it means to be human." (Fr. Julian Carron)</i><br />
<i></i><br />
Natashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905668756839117702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428109078126616395.post-835024246501529772020-04-10T08:31:00.000-07:002020-04-10T08:31:36.764-07:00Prepared in Haste
<br />
In his homily for Holy Thursday, our Bishop spoke of the
first Last Supper being prepared in haste.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The apostles thought they were preparing the usual Passover meal, but then
Jesus transformed it into something new that they could not have expected. He gave
them His very Body when He instituted the Eucharist, established the priesthood,
and gave us the possibility of sharing in this meal with Him every day since
that day.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
This description of preparing in haste really struck me.
Last evening I, like many in our diocese, gathered with my family around our TV
anticipating a livestreamed Mass from our Cathedral.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Following along on the Facebook post, it was
clear that something went wrong, and comments numbering into the hundreds
quickly came in, one at a time, from people wondering, “did I miss it?” “Am I
in the right place?” “Has it started?” “What’s going on?”<br />
<br />
It’s hard to find a better representation of this season of
life than that scene that played out before us yesterday evening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We too, find ourselves in front of an unprecedented
situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We prepare ourselves in haste,
in many cases bringing technology to the forefront when our normal lives use it
only a fraction of the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Good people
work tirelessly behind the scenes to keep us connected, diving into new platforms
and embracing new ways of ministering so that we will not be left behind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And still, despite all of that, sometimes it
can translate into a great waiting.<br />
<br />
Had we all been able to go to the Cathedral last night, we
would surely have overflowed it. But we would find ourselves sitting beside people
we didn’t know, doing our own thing with our own families. Yesterday however,
we were waiting together, from our homes but very much connected.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People immediately began praying from their
homes, uniting ourselves to those who were taking part in the Mass (and those
trying to bring it to us).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At a certain
point, one of my older children asked, “how long do we wait?” And I answered, “we
just wait.”<br />
<br />
We put our youngest to bed and finally, after an hour, found
a livestreamed Mass from a neighboring diocese to attend with our older children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By the end they were exhausted, after two
hours of sitting in a quiet living room praying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was beautiful, but it took a lot out of us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<br />
Reflecting on it afterwards, there is always a certain
amount of effort during the Triduum.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If
this had been a normal year, we would have hurried through supper, dressed the
kids in something presentable, and gone into town for a long Mass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We would have returned home after bedtime
tired, and prepared to do the same thing over the rest of the Triduum.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<br />
Participating in these liturgies always asks something of us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But this year it seems, that request is more
personal. It is a deep attentiveness to an ever-changing environment. It is a
oneness with our fellow humanity in a way that is difficult to imagine in any
situation but the one we are presently living.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It is dizzying.<br />
<br />
And so the words of the Bishop about the Lord’s supper
really penetrated my heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In it, I
could very clearly see all of us, busying ourselves with everything that comes
in this season.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Trying to navigate new technologies,
to participate in as much as we can so that our observance of Easter can be as
normal as possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Accepting being behind
a computer screen so much more than we are accustomed to and, at the same time,
being at the mercy of this technology when it fails us, and despite our best
laid plans we find ourselves still waiting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Preparing in haste.<br />
<br />
This gives me hope that the same Jesus who transformed that
meal into something completely new and unexpected will do the same for us right
now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have not yet reached that point,
I don’t think.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are still living in
the haste of these mysterious days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But
we can continue to prepare, as the Apostles did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We can continue to invite Jesus into our
lives and accept with patience these circumstances, which change by the minute
at times. Our work is not wasted.<br />
<br />
And we can trust Him to come as the invited guest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With His presence, He makes everything new,
and brings us what we could not possibly anticipate or expect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He will give us a way forward, and unite us
with Him forever.<br />
<br />
How many times I have heard these readings proclaimed over the
course of my life, and heard them simply as stories? I try to imagine myself in
them, but the mind can only bring you so far.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And yet our current circumstances actually help me to identify with the
Gospel in a way I never could have if we were not living these days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In a single moment, the thousands of years
that have passed since Jesus walked this earth have been bridged, and I can
identify with and feel a small portion of what the must have been living. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<br />
They too, must have been confused.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They must have felt dizzy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were seeing everything they knew about
faith and religion changing not completely, but needing to be measured against
this man that was before them. They had to decide, do we accept his radical
teachings, or do we reject them?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<br />
One of my children asked me this morning, why the people who turned Jesus over
did that to Him. And I told her that it was because they were confused.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In these days of uncertainty, confusion is palpable.
There is the temptation to cling to what we know, and to reject what is before
us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And in order to be able to accept
what is before us demands a great deal of attentiveness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The ones who truly accepted Jesus were those
who listened to Him, stayed close to God, discerned everything that was
happening in front of them, and then walked into the unknown confident that
they didn’t know the way, but they knew the One who does.<br />
<br />
The only hope we have of not falling prey to this confusion is
to live as they did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are in days that
are full of haste.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But we know the
way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like the apostles, we are called to
adapt to ever-changing circumstances that may not always feel intuitive. But if
we keep Christ close to us, praying constantly (and more so the more that the
demands of living this way press themselves down on us), then we can be
confident that He will arrive, and that He will transform our efforts into something
new and unimaginable.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JyJfAu8qDvQ/XpCPia8vR1I/AAAAAAAAB-0/k9YKz1Z3brEF3P4H9MAu-cFlQimZxQDbQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JyJfAu8qDvQ/XpCPia8vR1I/AAAAAAAAB-0/k9YKz1Z3brEF3P4H9MAu-cFlQimZxQDbQCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/blog.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<i>“Man, the human being’s rational life, would have to be
suspended on the instant, suspended in every moment upon these signs,
apparently so fickle, so haphazard, [which are] the circumstances through which
the unknown ‘lord’ drags me, provokes me toward his design. I would have to say
‘yes’ at every instant without seeing anything, simply adhering to the
pressures of the occasions. It is a dizzying position”. (Luigi Giussani) </i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Natashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905668756839117702noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428109078126616395.post-59338497558042451012020-04-04T12:17:00.000-07:002020-04-04T12:17:18.180-07:00A Different Kind of EasterThis morning while I was out for a run, I thought: next Easter is going to be amazing. We are so fortunate in our diocese that our Triduum Masses will be livestreamed, but of course, it's not the same. Many like us look forward to attending and participating in the Easter liturgies, and not being able to be there in person to receive the Blessed Sacrament and be united with our fellow parishioners and our pastors is sure to leave a big hole in our celebrations this year. If we pretend that it will not, we are fooling ourselves.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
And yet, as soon as I had that thought, I remembered my eleven-year-old daughter. It is very much on her mind this year how much different Easter will be. She has spoken many times this week about the things she will miss, the usual traditions that make Easter special. But she also has been thinking about how to make this Easter meaningful too. She has picked out special dresses, one for the Easter Vigil and one for Easter Sunday. When I told her we were watching our Cathedral's livestream for the Easter Vigil, she asked if we could light candles. She wants to help decorate our front door with greenery for Palm Sunday. In short, she is present.<br />
<br />
So many times I think that traditions and meaning are the responsibility of the parents, that we drive our children's activities and they just follow along the path we lay out for them. And it blows me away when one of them shows an interest on their own, or somehow demonstrates that faith has value to them. To see my daughter thinking so thoughtfully of how to live the Easter liturgies in our home is so ministering to me, because it helps to position me in front of this moment as well. <br />
<br />
Next Easter will be amazing. But there is so much that is given to us this year as well. This year will be more quiet, reflective, distanced. But in a strange way, that can help it to be contemplative, monastic, prayerful, personal. <br />
<br />
I spent some time in our church parking lot yesterday for First Friday. As I looked at the stained glass windows from my seat on the lawn, it felt distant and cold. Last week I had been able to enter the church, but new directives from the diocese had asked for churches to be closed for private prayer. As I contemplated what this means for me, trying to conjure up feelings of closeness to the Lord in the midst of this, I studied the windows. From inside the church, you can see every detail in them, and they are beautiful. But from the outside, you have to look a little closer. It's not so evident, no detail, just shapes. <br />
<br />
But the more I looked at those shapes, the more my mind filled in the blanks, and they began to look and feel familiar to me. And the more I did that, the more I realized that whether I was inside looking at the tabernacle or outside on the lawn trying to fill in the blanks, He is still there. He is always there.<br />
<br />
We are very much in a season of filling in the blanks. But Jesus is not absent. He may not be coming to us in the ways we are used to, but He never leaves us. What He is asking of all of us, is to take that time to contemplate Him, and look a little harder. The more we do that, the more we will find Him in a new way, as we navigate this strange season of life.<br />
<br />
Like my sweet girl, we can understand that there are still ways to live this season with meaning. We journey like the Israelites towards the promised land, knowing this journey is temporary and that the food we are given may not be exactly what we wanted or are used to (and may even seem flat and stale at times). But we will not stay here. The journey will end, and we will reach that blessed promised land, where there will be much rejoicing.<br />
<br />
Next Easter is going to be amazing. But I think this one will be too.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-u0r5hxbIUUs/XojcnQVJ3KI/AAAAAAAAB-k/6Qt2xUw9B_4EbDyusTa_FzYIaNd3vI1hwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1418" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-u0r5hxbIUUs/XojcnQVJ3KI/AAAAAAAAB-k/6Qt2xUw9B_4EbDyusTa_FzYIaNd3vI1hwCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/blog.jpg" width="353" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />Natashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905668756839117702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428109078126616395.post-90853332736822968322020-03-30T21:25:00.000-07:002020-03-30T21:25:10.067-07:00Finding Jesus in the Temple<div>
After a crazy day at home, I snuck away for a quick run just before supper. I pray the rosary when I run, because the Blessed Mother is the perfect running companion, and today being Monday, I prayed with the joyful mysteries. <a name='more'></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I live in a beautiful part of the world that sits along a river (and is secluded enough that it is still relatively easy to get out while maintaining social distance). My parish church is practically in my back yard, and I pass in front of it when I run. So when I pray the rosary, inevitably I find myself passing my church during the last mystery, when I'm almost home. Today, that mystery was the Finding in the Temple.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I have often reflected about how our bodies are referred to as a temple of the Lord, and my favorite way to pray with this mystery is with that in mind - that just as Mary and Joseph thought they had lost Jesus, when all along He was in the temple, I too might find Him in the deep recesses of my heart, in the temple, my whole being. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The current situation we are facing in the world brought that to a whole new level today. I ran past our church at the beginning of my run and on the way back. I knew Jesus was in there, in the Blessed Sacrament, but I don't know when I will next be able to receive Him. I have been sitting with this ever since our diocese (following the lead of dioceses all around the world) cancelled first Sunday Masses, then all Masses, to help control the spread of Covid-19 and keep people safe. It is a strange feeling to be so near to the Blessed Sacrament and not be able to receive Him. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I have only just begun to unpack what this means to me. When the announcements came into effect, I brought my children to Mass where we met up with my husband, to receive the Eucharist for the last time. Like many others I approached the altar that day with a more sincere and aware heart than maybe I ever have before, but I know I still did not fully grasp what it was the Lord was asking of us in all of this. Now, just two weeks later, it is starting to sink in.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
As this virus progresses and the directives become more imperative, it is clear we are going to be living like this for a while. The timeline for now is unknown, and as the days pass my heart does something it never really did before this circumstance imposed itself on the world - it<i> longs</i> for our Eucharistic Lord.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Praying before the tabernacle recently, I realized the intensity with which I was starting to feel this lack of the physical presence of Jesus. And knowing that I couldn't possibly be the only one feeling this way, I began to see what a gift can come from being denied something we have never been denied before. In the same way that we can come to take our loved ones for granted, so too I can see how I have taken the Lord for granted. I have tried to pay attention during the consecration, to prepare my heart for Communion. I've walked to the altar with an eye on toddlers ready to dart at any second, with meal plans running through my head, or other meaningless details that pale in comparison to what was about to take place. I have tried in vain to will my heart to understand the miracle that is Christ present in the host. But now, more than ever, He is teaching me - and it is precisely through this lack, this not being able to receive.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i>Thinking He was in their company, they travelled on for a day. Then they began looking for Him among their relatives and friends. (Luke 2:44)</i></div>
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
This is exactly what we are living now. For so long, we have been going about our lives thinking He was in our company. We had no idea what we were missing, until we realized suddenly that He was not there. Of course, Jesus is always with us. But I have been living in a sea of distraction and complacency for a very long time. While I have been able to come to Mass and receiving Him for my whole life, in many ways I have walked as if He was not with me. I knew it in my head, but it didn't quite make it to my heart in the truest sense.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But now, we know. Now we feel that He is gone. So we have started looking. And what a blessing! I just keep thinking as these days go on, that I don't want to waste them; I don't want to loose this opportunity. What is at once a devastating circumstance for the whole world (and one I pray fervently will end soon, and without more loss of life) is also a profound moment in history for all of us. It is an opportunity to be connected and aware of all of humanity at the same time. It is the chance for us to affirm the dignity and value of every human life, by taking every measure we can to stop the spread of this virus. When we change our lives so drastically, we can either see it as an inconvenience to ourselves, we can give into fear that we will become sick and stay in to protect ourselves. Or we can embrace it as an act of love for the sake of the weakest and most vulnerable among us. In this way, we begin to look for Him among our relatives and friends. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
When we feel the true loss of the Eucharist, a gift we receive every time we go to Mass but one that is freely given to us, and which we do not have a right to, then we begin to long for Him. This longing for me is like an awakening, like falling in love all over again with your spouse. Every relationship goes through times when you need to enkindle the flames of that first love, so that you don't take each other for granted. For me, this is exactly what is happening in this time of sacrifice for the universal church. We have been with the Lord for a long time, and maybe we've taken Him for granted. Maybe like me, there are some who have never fully grasped the true gift we've been given. For some, they will find that not going to Mass isn't such a big deal. But for many more, I believe this imposed sacrifice will reawaken a new fire for the Lord, so that on that blessed day when we can finally receive Him again, we will have an awareness to our core of His true presence in the Eucharist we receive.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i>After three days they found Him in the temple courts, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions...When His parents saw Him they were astonished. His mother said to Him, 'Son, why have you treated us like this? Your father and I have been anxiously searching for you.' 'Why were you searching for me?' He asked, 'Didn't you know that I must be in my Father's house?' (Luke 2:46, 48-49)</i></div>
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
Jesus is still in His Father's house, we are not abandoned. Like Mary and Joseph, we are in a time of searching. While there are hardships, even some that seem unbearable, there is also hope. We must go in search of Him. I don't want to waste any of this time. I know that like the Holy Family, this reality is temporary. Let's live this moment of history as active seekers for Christ. Full of love for all of our neighbors, doing whatever we can to help protect everyone around us. Praying always for an end to this sickness and for healing for all those who contract it (especially for those who will die). And never forgetting that He is with His Father. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Let us pray that until that glorious day when we can again receive Him in Holy Communion, that we will find Him in the temple of our hearts, and that He will give us the grace to live out these days with our gaze fixed on Him. Not losing one ounce of the great opportunity He has placed before us on this journey.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-esaFMTHdq0A/XoLD6gGlnJI/AAAAAAAAB-Y/b18ebyeNPuw358kNBNeUWAg2Hta8qqm-ACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1114" data-original-width="1440" height="308" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-esaFMTHdq0A/XoLD6gGlnJI/AAAAAAAAB-Y/b18ebyeNPuw358kNBNeUWAg2Hta8qqm-ACLcBGAsYHQ/s400/blog.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i></i><i></i><i></i><i></i><i></i><i></i><br /></div>
<div>
<i>"Dear Lord,</i></div>
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
<i>I recognize that everything comes from You,<br />Everything is grace,<br />Freely given,<br />Mysterious,<br />That I can't decipher,<br />But which I accept according to the circumstances<br />In which it takes place every day,<br />And I offer it to You,<br />And every morning I offer it to You,<br />And a hundred times a day,<br />If You have the goodness to remind me,<br />I offer it to You."<br /><br />(Luigi Giussani)</i></div>
<div>
<i></i><br /></div>
Natashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905668756839117702noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428109078126616395.post-86546243686668829462020-03-23T13:38:00.000-07:002020-03-23T13:38:40.271-07:00One Week DownAnd what a week it's been! This time last week, I was preparing to take my son to his piano lesson and go to Mass at a nearby parish, when Jeff advised I should probably call to make sure Mass wasn't cancelled (it was). I made the decision then to do piano by video call instead (which we did the following day - it was such an infusion of normalcy and beauty in an otherwise chaotic time!) And I cried when I tried to update our calendar, ultimately choosing not to erase all the events we were certain to miss for the foreseeable future. My friends, a lot has changed since then.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
It's surprising to me to look back and reflect on how this week has been, and how I've responded. On one hand, there were big (massive!) changes to make, not unlike anyone else. In these areas, it's easy for me to just lean in and accept it. It's the smaller things that have been getting to me. Last week during a prayer time at my church, I lost my temper with my kids (during prayer time!) and upon later reflection, I came to see that I need to have mercy on myself and on them. We don't stop being who we are because of a pandemic. The seriousness of the situation may cause us to pause, but we don't cease having the same personality quirks that we always have. I am impatient, one of my kids is rough, another is demanding, another is active, another is two. This doesn't change just because our circumstance did, in fact, I think a lot of our most pressing flaws have been amplified as we adjust to our new reality.<br />
<br />
Today as I began my day, I thought about this mercy, and the thought that has stayed with me all week, that we do not stop being ourselves, faults and all. That much is still true. However, we are one week in now. We are not the same as we were then; we know more. So we should be able to do better. We should be able to look at how we lived last week, and how we adjusted, and see what worked and what didn't. Most especially, we should see where we fell short in truly loving the ones around us, those who will be stuck with us for the duration of social isolation, and not take them for granted.<br />
<br />
True mercy doesn't shame. It doesn't remind us of how terrible we are. It understands, it loves. But it also does not leave us where we are. It calls us forward, to something far better than we can imagine. This is what Christ wants for us in all of this - better relationships with the people around us, and with Him.<br />
<br />
If like me, you look over the last week and see some things that were kind of a disaster, don't beat yourself up. But don't stay there either. Cut yourself some slack, make things right with the people you love, and step forward into the unknown fully confident of where your strength lies. Perhaps the greatest mercy of a world on pause is that we are forced to ask ourselves Who is in control, and where our hope lies. And if we desire to truly live these days as beauty, we need to return often, moment by moment, to the One who is truth, beauty, and goodness.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-adxzFIQlsXs/XnkdztU7XkI/AAAAAAAAB-M/l8ElPcQnlSM-M_9uZrDb1xcDrl88XQl3gCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-adxzFIQlsXs/XnkdztU7XkI/AAAAAAAAB-M/l8ElPcQnlSM-M_9uZrDb1xcDrl88XQl3gCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/blog.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Natashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905668756839117702noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428109078126616395.post-18875926341412705612020-03-17T18:38:00.000-07:002020-03-17T18:38:42.154-07:00Day Two - Sorrow and HopeWe are on our second day of social distancing, following the recommendations of our local government (like most of the people in our province, thank goodness). Yesterday went much like it usually does. To be honest, not much will change in our day to day, except that we can't see any of our friends or family. As we homeschool, that remains the same. Our oldest two, who were homeschooled right up until two years ago, easily reverted to the old routine of working alongside their siblings (and only put up a minor fuss when, apparently talking to some classmates through the day, they discovered that not every student had to keep up with school work this week! Sorry boys, that's what happens when you're the child of a homeschooler 😉). Today however, is when things began to sink in.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
An email from the CL community in Washington contained quotes from a community Mass with the responsible, Fr. Jose Medina, that challenged the way I have been approaching this situation and the accommodations it requires of me. Until now, my main priority has been to keep everything as normal as I can, and yesterday felt very much this way. As the sun went down last night I thought that maybe I could do this for a prolonged period without too much difficulty. And then, from this email I read the following:<br />
<br />
<i>One of the ways, Fr. Jose observed, in which we can avert our gaze from the reality facing us is to immediately jump in to a battle to keep everything as normal as possible. In this way we engage in frantic activity and we do not pay attention to the fact that faces us. We never give ourselves the chance to discover how the presence of Christ, about which we talk so much, can actually sustain our hope in the circumstances of our life which in this moment are quite dramatic. We need to give ourselves time! We need silence and prayer. Fr. Jose spoke of the "Monastic structure of our lives." We need to live the very concrete implication of this crisis: to be at home, with our families, living out that hypothesis of hope with which the movement has attracted our lives to Christ. Fr Jose stated, at Community Mass, "we can survive this time or have a profound experience of companionship and belonging. The difference is incredible: the house as a mere container, or as a generative space." The proposal we would like to make at this time is to live this dimension of the crisis actively, attentive to the experience that living this well will generate in us.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I find that for the last week or so, things can change dramatically from the time I wake up in the morning, until the time I go to bed. I wake up thinking one thing, we'll still do this event, we'll still be able to see these people, we'll scale back. And then as the day unfolds, new information develops, and what I thought would be possible is no longer so. I don't check Facebook through the day, which in these days has been a blessing, but it can also cause me to be a bit distanced from how quickly things are happening. The first clue to this disconnect for me was watching my husband come in the door from work. He was quiet, as he usually is, but with a certain heaviness. When we had a quiet moment much later in the evening, he shared with me that he was starting to feel stressed, and I realized that there is so much that I miss by just being home. Don't get me wrong, I'm so grateful for the security I have here. But it did remind me again of those words from Fr. Jose. Things are not normal, and just going along as if they are does not help me to truly face them.<br />
<br />
Today is when it hit me. I had taken our kids to noon Mass (the last Mass in our diocese for the foreseeable future, since as of today even weekday Masses have been cancelled). I dropped off supplies to some friends, grabbed drive-through lunch for the kids, and came home. I noticed the empty parking lots of shopping centers, the lower-than-normal amount of traffic on the highways and, to my delight, many people out walking. In many ways, it was quite peaceful, very much a "look on the bright side" kind of day. Until I came home, and set to work.<br />
<br />
We had a family work party to clean up the house, and my designated room was the dining room. On the wall of this room resides our master calendar, that details all the comings and goings of the week. At the beginning of each week I update it with the new items that might happen to fall into our rotation, but there are many things that are standard every week, and just stay on the calendar. Erasing the things we were no longer able to do (the extras) wasn't difficult, it was almost a relief. But when I looked at those permanent things, things like violin lessons, band, piano - that's when it really hit me. I started to erase the first one, and I cried. The calendar would be empty if I took them all off, so I put it back, and left the rest there too. At least for the time being, I told myself. We may still get back to school before the year is out, and then we'll have to add them back anyway. May as well wait and see.<br />
<br />
It seemed such a strange thing to have hit me so profoundly, but it did. Not so much the particular events, but I think it was just the prospect of an empty calendar that I could not fill. It really drove home the seriousness of this moment. When it happened, the house was bustling with productivity. Each of the kids was hard at work cleaning, music was playing in the background, and unbeknownst to the kids, I was off in the corner just having a moment. It was a moment I needed.<br />
<br />
Because I realized that what Fr. Medina said is true. In order to live a true hope, we have to have some sense of the sorrow of the moment, to know what it is we hope for. It is not usual for the whole world to be shut into their homes. But these can either just be a space to "keep on keeping on," or they can be somewhere that causes us to pause, and to really grow close to Jesus through what He is doing in this time.<br />
<br />
I recalled when I first started running, and just how much it hurt those first few months every single time I got back from a run. It was like my lungs were going to leap out of my chest, I felt every inch of that workout and it was hard. But over and over again, I would say to my husband, "I feel so alive!" I began to go out in search of that discomfort, because I knew what would come after was a feeling so amazing, that I wanted to keep having it. This pain that showed me the path to something I had long neglected and for which I longed; it became something I went in search of. And to me, this small moment of sorrow at seeing and really feeling what we are loosing in these days, very much felt the same. In that paradoxical moment of happy oblivious children, busily working about to cheery music and my house getting clean (what a beautiful moment for me!), and me unseen to them, sobbing, and feeling the weight of what lay before us, somehow made me feel alive. And even more than that, it made me hope. It made me see what I am longing for, which is a closeness to Jesus that I didn't even realize I was missing, just on the horizon, just past this suffering (and indeed, through it). It gave me the hope that I didn't even know I was missing, a hope that could only have come through sorrow. The two are companions.<br />
<br />
I have no idea what the next weeks will continue to bring, but I know I have never felt so connected to humanity in all of my life. This sacred moment begs all of us to look to one another and to band together in a grand act of charity in the hopes that we will be able to help even one person. Through our privileged participation in this community, we are being given opportunities that are tremendous for ourselves as well. I pray that as these days continue, we will be open to what God is doing through them, and resist the temptation to keep everything normal.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8jjsOFgH2k8/XnF6CStpiEI/AAAAAAAAB-A/XVBEP2Bpe0c5ronrkkQJt8Cu7pAHeIqmwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1280" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8jjsOFgH2k8/XnF6CStpiEI/AAAAAAAAB-A/XVBEP2Bpe0c5ronrkkQJt8Cu7pAHeIqmwCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/blog.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<i>"We will, then, later consider together how to make the path we walk in the weeks awaiting us into a treasure for us all, and the most suitable way to respond to any questions that emerge. With openness to the unexpected." (Fr. Julian Carron)</i><br />
<i></i><i></i><br />
<br />Natashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905668756839117702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428109078126616395.post-28816483002966198892020-03-15T09:48:00.001-07:002020-03-15T09:48:38.416-07:00Salvator MundiIn our diocese, the Bishop has announced that after this week, much like the rest of the country, there will be no weekend Masses to help limit the spread of the Covid-19 virus. So this morning we all arrived in silence. The usual comradery and social pleasantries were eerily absent from our typically social country parish. At the end of Mass, the plates of sweets laid out for our customary after-Mass social remained covered in plastic, as people who normally congregate in the lobby quietly walked to their cars, emptying the church almost immediately. <span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Going to Mass this morning felt very much like Good Friday, which I remarked to my husband. His reponse was that we are almost more solemn than Good Friday.</span><br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">This is truly saying something. Because year after year during Lent, and especially on Good Friday, we are asked to enter into the suffering and Passion of our Lord. We are asked to take it seriously, and to be penitent, and we really do try. But for all of our efforts, often it is difficult to really, truly wake us from our usual habits. We go to Mass, we hear the readings, we receive Jesus, we experience community. We try to keep Him before us, maybe, if we think of it. But for me at least, so much of it is habit. Until that is, something like this happens, to stir us and awaken us.</span><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Why are we so solemn today? For many of us, it is the awareness of Who we receive in the Eucharist, and the thought that we may not be able to receive Him again for some time. We came to the altar not out of habit or obligation, but with a true awareness of Who we were receiving, and the magnitude of what is being asked of us in the coming weeks. I can not tell you when is the last time I even considered how deeply I need Jesus in this way, beyond just acknowledging it as "book knowledge". Today what has been taken for granted in my heart emerged as the most important fact of my life as I walked towards the altar and received the Blessed Sacrament. I was aware what a true gift it was.</span><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">There is also something profoundly beautiful to me about the fact that the world is experiencing this together, at the same time. Week after week our parish priest asks us to pray for this or that disaster taking place in the world, and we do. But it doesn't touch us the way this is. And knowing that it is touching the whole entire world at the exact same moment in time, is to me almost sacred. We are bound together in this way. What other possible event could do such a thing?</span><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white;">I kept hearing over and over as we prepared for Mass today, the Catholic Hymn, "Salvator Mundi, Salva Nos." (Saviour of the world, save us.) We sing it typically on Good Friday, as a reminder that we are all sinners, and are all in such desperate need of Christ. In an online discussion yesterday, a friend commented that people not willing to accept the measures asked of us by our Bishops as an act of charity are suffering from a spiritual blindness, and for me, this is how it all comes together in this moment. In our small corner of the world, we don't have Coronovirus. We are not physically sick. But we all in some manner or another, have spirtual blindness. Even those of us who are willing to do what is asked of us. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-R7nvVZjSbks/Xm5a6z_e8HI/AAAAAAAAB90/oMJKpzSKluY1w1J1v_FEmy1EBR5HJYkGQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white;">We are all sinners in need of salvation - this is not just a sentiment but a fact! A fact that is being made profoundly clear as we prepare to sacrifice our ability to receive the Eucharist for an unknown period of time. My need for Christ has never been so real or true for me than it is in this moment, and for this I can only respond in gratitude. What took place more than two thousand years ago has somehow erased time, crossed over millenia, and come to touch me here, in 2020, as a true fact in my life. This is the omnipotence of Christ, drawing us into His passion in the present. For me, this elevates what we are living to the level of sacred.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-R7nvVZjSbks/Xm5a6z_e8HI/AAAAAAAAB90/oMJKpzSKluY1w1J1v_FEmy1EBR5HJYkGQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #0066cc; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-R7nvVZjSbks/Xm5a6z_e8HI/AAAAAAAAB90/oMJKpzSKluY1w1J1v_FEmy1EBR5HJYkGQCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/blog.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="background-color: white;">Please continue to pray for each other and the world, as we join together and embrace the reality of Christ in front of us now, and what that means for each one of us.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/QDJW8jQ-1Zo/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/QDJW8jQ-1Zo?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>Natashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905668756839117702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428109078126616395.post-80417340724830347072020-03-13T14:45:00.000-07:002020-03-13T14:45:48.952-07:00Christ, the only CertaintyIt has been a crazy week. The developments as Covid 19 spreads, and we continue to learn and adjust, certainly carry the possibility to induce fear. In fact I find, it takes effort not to succumb to it. Just one week ago what seemed so far off is now imminent, causing us to cancel gatherings and watch as grocery shelves go empty and people prepare. What is one to make of all of this?<a name='more'></a><div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
For me, there is an overwhelming peace in front of this. It doesn't make any sense. I have two somewhat major events that I have been involved in planning that will likely be cancelled. I am someone who loves community and often feels isolated, like I'm missing out. Friendships are crucial to me, I want all the people around all the time, and of course in the wake of what is developing, it is looking like at least all but the very intimate few such events will be able to take place. And what is striking to me, is that while in the past this fact would have made me feel desperate and discouraged, today I feel peaceful.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I think it must be because this is so big, and there are no clear answers. It requires an attentiveness to Christ that permeates every moment. It feels very much like Jesus' call to Peter when He asked if He would leave with everyone else - where else would I go? There is no other response than to turn to Him.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And when we do this, the response is not fear, but grace. The grace to adjust our plans, to take things in stride, to make the sacrifices we need to for the sake of the vulnerable among us. It makes me feel so much more aware of people in my community that I seldom take the time to think of. I feel connected to the Body of Christ in a more full way, as collectively we wait for direction on how to proceed. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In his new book, "Where is God? Christian Faith in the Time of Great Uncertainty," Fr. Julian Carron tells us that, "hope is precisely what enables an authentic and radical realism that has no need to erase any part of what exists, in one sense or the other." This is truly the choice before each one of us. Tue hope does not mean we are not aware of what's going on, or that we somehow think God is going to take all of it away. It is precisely what allows us to face a situation as urgent as we are living without allowing fear to take over. It helps us to stay in front of reality, and to move with it.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
For me, there has been a true mercy in all of this. Nobody could know how this would develop, and none of us knows what will continue to be asked of us as the weeks unfold. We will be asked to change, accommodate, sacrifice. And if our response to this is fear and panic, we will miss Jesus present in it. We must fight this urge to respond to the sensational around us. We need to tune out the noise and tune into Jesus, with hearts that are for our brothers and sisters among us. We must prepare diligently and with purpose, not to look out for ourselves, but as a way to better serve the vulnerable. We must reach out and make sure they have what they need.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We must continue to be in friendship with one another, to still do the things we are able (not everyting is cancelled yet). And we must not lose our hope as the days go on. We must live in the gladness that we are not created for ourselves, and that each sacrifice asked of us is a joy. To me, this is the great opportunity that a crisis of this magnitude presents to the world - it forces us to pay attention to Jesus in much deeper way. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It asks the question of all of us, "And what about you?" And the beauty of a question like that is that it pulls us out of the melancholy of our lives, and demands an answer. For many, the question will be lost. But for many more I pray, we will respond like St. Peter, "Where else would we go?" Only then, when we are truly all in with the Lord, can we ever hope of living times of crisis with joy.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Let's continue to pray for Christ to be close to us as we navigate this ever-changing situation. Peace to all of you.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rpWZ3Lyo4V8/Xmv9iZvpflI/AAAAAAAAB9o/p7-2KETH_GI_VAncMVMD731SXdof-965wCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rpWZ3Lyo4V8/Xmv9iZvpflI/AAAAAAAAB9o/p7-2KETH_GI_VAncMVMD731SXdof-965wCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/blog.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i>"If a Christian truly lives an experience of faith, the certainty that it brings extends to the future; that is, it grounds a hope that enables you to face everything with a new gaze." (Fr. Julian Carron)</i></div>
Natashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905668756839117702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428109078126616395.post-40319664452096522512020-03-05T11:31:00.001-08:002020-03-05T11:33:13.048-08:00(Imperfect) Rules for Running - And for Life<br />
I have been a runner for a little over a year now, and it is
always remarkable to me the lessons I learn about running, that are also
applicable to life in general.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here, in
no particular order, are a few of the things that generally strike me while I’m
out on the roads.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<b>#1: Have Reasonable Goals </b><br />
<br />
I’ve tried to take up running many times, dating back to
before I was married, but I never managed to keep up the habit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So back in the Fall of 2018 when I felt the urge
to try once more, I was determined to make it a sustainable habit. To do that,
it had to be something that wasn’t too big to fit into my life. For one, I only
had a certain amount of time to devote to this hobby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And for another thing, once the momentum wore
off (which it always does), it had to be something that wasn’t so big that I
talked myself out of it. I settled on a half hour at a time, at least three
times a week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That way there was never
any excuse for me not to fit it in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There
is nothing I do in the course of my day that can’t wait half an hour for me to
do something good for myself (and interestingly, I have found that by making
this time for myself, I return home more productive, and actually accomplish
the same or more as I did before I started running).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span>
<br />
In life, we need to have this same mercy on ourselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Having goals is important, even crucial to success.
But if we want them to be sustainable, we have to make sure they are so big that
we give up as soon as we lose our groove.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>#2: As Long as you Show Up, You’re Winning</b><br />
<br />
Someone asked me the other day, “so do you have a particular
goal for distance?” And the answer is no, I don’t – and I don’t want to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course I have an idea in the back of my
mind of what a good run in (in general, if I can manage 5K at a time I’m
happy), but there are so many seasons in life that can throw that off. This
winter hit me like a ton of bricks – for the first time since I started running
I started going backwards in my progress, and it was difficult not to be discouraged.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since June I had been running the full half
hour with no walking breaks, but during my first real winter run it was clear
that the combination of cold, slush, ice, and being all bundled up did not lend
itself to setting pace records.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Conscious of the fact that I did not want to lose time over the winter,
I decided to revert to short walking breaks every 5 minutes or so (something I hadn’t
done since my early days of learning to run).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Doing this helped prepare me for the cold weather running, and gave me
something to focus on when I just really wanted to give up to the elements.
Knowing I had this freedom before I even stepped out the door, and setting this
as my goal made me feel deliberate in my walking breaks, and not like I was
performing less.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the winter, as in
any season, the goal for me is not to break any distance or speed records, but
to just show up and do whatever I can for my thirty minutes. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Running needs to accommodate me in all seasons
of life – mental and physical challenges, illness, stress, whatever it is. It
needs to work for me.<br />
<br />
<br />
In life, we need to be aware of what we can give in any
given moment. Sometimes it’s a monumental effort, something we can be proud of,
and it really shows. And at other times, it might be less. We might have more going
on, other people who need us, children, friends, etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of these can have an effect on what we are
able to give.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It doesn’t mean we cut
ourselves off, but it’s okay to scale back on our efforts to accommodate a more
difficult season of life.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>#3: Don’t Stop until you’ve Crested the Hill</b><br />
<br />
When I first added hills to my running routes, it was daunting.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It takes so much effort to make it to
the top, especially when you’re used to level ground.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I’ve found that if I can just maintain my
effort until the top, usually I feel different once I’ve arrived. In the middle
of a hill I’ll often think, “As soon as I get to the top, I’m walking.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Only to find that when I arrive, my stamina
returns and I am able to continue with ease.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Hills have a purpose for us. They build muscle and endurance, and can
make what comes after them seem much easier than it was before we climbed
them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I never tell myself I can’t take a
break if I need to. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just try to wait
until the top, knowing that I may feel different than I did when I was in the
hardest part of my effort.<br />
<br />
In life, we have seasons of ease and seasons of
difficulty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We can be tempted to throw
in the towel, but often in the heat of the uphill, we don’t see with the same
clarity as we do at the top. We can always reassess once we’re through the
difficulty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And if keep moving through
it, we may just find that once we’ve made it through, our perspective has
changed.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>#4: Sometimes the Hill Really is Too Much</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<br />
This is an exception to the previous rule.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yesterday I chose a new route with a huge
hill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did my best not to stop, but in
the end it got the better of me. There is no shame in that. I walked for a
short time, and then started running again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I hadn’t crested the hill yet, but allowing myself a brief walking break
helped me regroup and find the strength I needed to finish the course.<br />
<br />
<br />
In life, we should never feel bad about taking a break if we
need it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are seasons when we need
to push pause – not stop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With the end goal
in mind, don’t be afraid to slow down and regroup, sometimes that’s exactly
what we need to see something through.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>#5: Surround Yourself with Supportive People</b><br />
<br />
Late in the fall when the weather changed, I mentioned to my
husband that I needed a head lamp so I could keep running when the evenings
became darker earlier. Not long after that, one showed up in the mail. So many
times this winter when I was on the fence about running, I remembered that lamp
he bought me, and realized it was one more reason not to miss a run. My husband
is not a runner, but he regularly supports me by allowing me the time to run,
and buying me cool things (like new running gear) that give me an extra
incentive to get out when I start feeling sluggish.<br />
<br />
<br />
In life, people don’t need to share your interests to be a
support to you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The best influences will
be people who want you to be happy and successful, and help you to achieve that.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>#6: Know Your Terrain</b><br />
<br />
When I first started running, I was advised that soft ground
was easier to run on than hard ground.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
have always preferred running on pavement, but hurt my knees early on and thought
maybe this would be the reason. However I have also found that when ground is
too soft, it can be a hindrance. Slush and mud not only slow me down, but they
make me work harder and are a mental drain. In general, though the experts may
disagree, I prefer hard terrain to soft, especially when it’s on the soggy
side.<br />
<br />
<br />
In life, it never helps to water down the hard truths. It may
be more difficult at the time, but in the end, this is what allows us to grow
and progress. While a little softness can be a mercy, too much can create soggy
ground, which is not productive for anyone.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>#7: Go In Prayer</b><br />
<br />
People are often surprised to find that I don’t run with any
electronic devices.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No music, no podcasts.
When I run, my favorite thing to do is pray the rosary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I find in this repetitive devotion the perfect
rhythm to help me stay motivated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I
feel like giving up, I focus on the Hail Mary’s and keep putting one foot in
front of the other. Much like hills, I choose not to take a walking break until
I’ve reached the end of a decade (and usually by then, I decide to keep
going).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mary is a constant companion,
and helps me to focus when the road gets tough.<br />
<br />
<br />
In life, we can dismiss repetitive devotions. But when times
get tough, this repetitiveness can be exactly what we need to help us remain
focus, and keep us from giving up. While we can struggle to find the words to
pray, devotions like the rosary give us the words where we find difficulty, and
can help orient our hearts and minds to Jesus in prayer.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
It never ceases to amaze me how God teaches us through the
things we love most in life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every small
moment is full of meaning and purpose, if we have eyes to see. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Life is full of beauty and possibility all
around us. It is my prayer that Jesus will touch you today, through the things in
life that bring you joy. <br />
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-r1u7I67CgUQ/XmFTh56OEnI/AAAAAAAAB9Q/fnyLdYA2VPs5L_yn4D8sc9Vmyjb_hqY_wCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-r1u7I67CgUQ/XmFTh56OEnI/AAAAAAAAB9Q/fnyLdYA2VPs5L_yn4D8sc9Vmyjb_hqY_wCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/blog.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Natashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905668756839117702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428109078126616395.post-64180599587903123072020-02-26T09:51:00.000-08:002020-02-26T09:55:04.877-08:00In SecretToday is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent. And of course, the familiar reading about how we are to enter this season of fasting:<br />
<br />
"<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , "times" , serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 18px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Do not be like the hypocrites,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , "times" , serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 18px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
who love to stand and pray in the synagogues and on street corners</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , "times" , serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 18px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
so that others may see them.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , "times" , serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 18px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
Amen, I say to you,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , "times" , serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 18px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
they have received their reward.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , "times" , serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 18px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
But when you pray, go to your inner room,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , "times" , serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 18px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
close the door, and pray to your Father in secret.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , "times" , serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 18px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
And your Father who sees in secret will repay you."</span><br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
It is this hidden, secretiveness that is particularly speaking to me as we prepare to enter into Lent. A few weeks ago, we saw in the scriptures that Jesus spoke in parables to the crowds, but spoke more clearly and directly to the apostles when he gathered them away from the crowds. As a busy mother with a very hectic life, it's not hard to see why this makes so much sense to me. Those crowds of people, they're wonderful. Full of life and joy, and in many cases people hearing the word for the first time. But for those of us who have been on the journey for a little while now, Jesus is calling us to something deeper, more thoughtful, more...silent.<br />
<br />
Jesus tells us the ones who pray in synagogues and street corners, in other words for others to see and notice them, have received their reward. So often I have taken this as a warning not to brag and be boastful about Lent (or for that matter, anything that I do with regards to my journey with Christ). And I suppose it is that. But somehow today, it seems less of a warning, and more of an invitation.<br />
<br />
I am discovering as I journey deeper into myself and look back over my experiences, just how much I desire to be seen by people. The older I get, the more I grow tired of the superficial, and in fact become almost hurt when it seems that's all people can give. I have this deep, insatiable desire for connection. And when I hear today's reading, I hear an invitation.<br />
<br />
"Come deeper with me," Jesus is saying. For years I have wanted to surround myself with people, assuming this would fulfill what I desire so deeply. But for me, this reward is not enough. For surely in a large crowd, one is seen. But are they truly known, valued, understood? This, alas, takes time and relationship, and ultimately I think cannot be fully satisfied within the constructs of human relationships (though good friendships can certainly be a help).<br />
<br />
"Close the door, and pray to your Father in secret," Jesus tells us. It's that preferential friendship He is offering me this Lent. How special the apostles must have felt to have been gathered in this way. Jesus recognized in them a seriousness, a desire that goes beyond the superficial to know Him in a deeper way, and He gathered them away from the crowds to nurture and grow this desire. This is precisely the way He wants to meet each one of us this Lent. Not to tell us not to brag or boast (which obviously we shouldn't do), not to reprimand or induce guilt, but to invite us to that sacred sweet place that is union with Him, relationship, unity - being seen. <br />
<br />
"And your Father, who sees in secret, will reward you." May the grace of Christ guide each one of us to the fullness of this reward over this time of Lent.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Olt3oBmlfxY/XlawJnBaW7I/AAAAAAAAB88/Ohsl4Zv_vXQrwa1xddlPYPtE0UkcsS1OACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1280" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Olt3oBmlfxY/XlawJnBaW7I/AAAAAAAAB88/Ohsl4Zv_vXQrwa1xddlPYPtE0UkcsS1OACLcBGAsYHQ/s400/blog.jpg" width="318" /></a></div>
<br />Natashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905668756839117702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428109078126616395.post-4488781205682406742019-11-22T06:00:00.000-08:002019-11-22T09:04:34.330-08:00Can We Touch Him?<div>
Once a week I try to bring the kids to weekday Mass, but occasionally that plan can be interrupted if the church we go to has something else going on. I knew that to be the case yesterday when we approached the church and, despite the lights being on inside, very few cars were in the parking lot. As I unloaded my vehicle, a kind parishioner approached me and informed me that they were preparing for a funeral, and there would be no Mass. Since we were already there, I asked if we might be able to sit in the sanctuary for a few minutes and pray with the Blessed Sacrament, which she said would be no problem.<br />
<a name='more'></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
As a few dedicated parishioners bustled about making preparations, the kids and I sat for a few moments in front of the tabernacle and prayed silently. At one moment an older child of mine was struck by something large to the left of the altar. As she made sense of what it was, word spread from sibling to sibling, and it didn't take long for all of them full of wonder and curiosity to be transfixed. It was a life-sized crucifix, that is currently being restored to eventually be installed in the front of the church. "Can we go see it?" They asked me. And so, we did.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The moments that followed to me are such a profound gift. We see big, beautiful crucifixes in churches all the time, but always at a distance. It is so rare to be able to be so close to one, and for my children it was really evident how moving this was. My ten-year-old daughter was mesmerized by the detail of the lines and shapes of the muscles and bone structure of Jesus, saying, "whoever did this is a real artist." Asked later about what seeing this crucifix meant to her she replied, "it helped me to see that the Jesus we read about in the Gospels all the time was a real human being." Another child remarked that seeing such a human presentation of Jesus in all his woundedness helped him understand what Jesus really did for him, and helped him to feel closer to Him. My youngest, just two years old, wanted to touch the nails in His hands and His feet. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I have often encountered over the years the attitude that "Jesus should come down from the cross". I don't know where this aversion to the visual of the crucified Christ comes from, but for me, this simple unplanned moment on a rainy Thursday morning, in a quiet church in my area, speaks more profoundly than anything else I have ever experienced of our need to see, up close and personal, the gift of Christ's sacrifice. Because more than anything else, what was communicated was love. This is the most powerful catechesis we can offer. We don't need to frame or explain, or prepare anything - we just need to let Jesus be who He is, and to bring our kids to Him. They'll get it, perhaps better than we will. We just need to let ourselves be loved by Him, understanding that this love finds its full meaning precisely in this sacrifice that He made for us. And rather than running from any reminders of this sacrifice, we can - like my children - put ourselves at eye level to it. Be drawn into it, study it, put our hands on it, and let it penetrate our hearts. This is the moment where we know our true worth, and the depths of Christ's love for us. And it is moving to the depths of our soul.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sZ0uZKXttbc/XdfpcI7oD3I/AAAAAAAAB8c/kieoGkkd0IECrDX67W6BixJ0ZTWk4SZNACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sZ0uZKXttbc/XdfpcI7oD3I/AAAAAAAAB8c/kieoGkkd0IECrDX67W6BixJ0ZTWk4SZNACLcBGAsYHQ/s400/blog.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Natashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905668756839117702noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428109078126616395.post-4345620178758595412019-09-30T06:22:00.000-07:002019-09-30T06:22:59.558-07:00Least Among UsToday`s gospel reading is a familiar one from Luke,<br />
<br />
"<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",Times,serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 18px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Jesus realized the intention of their hearts and took a child</span><br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia,&quot; font-size: 12px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",Times,serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 18px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">and placed it by his side and said to them,</span><br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia,&quot; font-size: 12px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",Times,serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 18px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">"Whoever receives this child in my name receives me,</span><br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia,&quot; font-size: 12px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",Times,serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 18px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">and whoever receives me receives the one who sent me.</span><br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia,&quot; font-size: 12px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",Times,serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 18px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">For the one who is least among all of you</span><br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia,&quot; font-size: 12px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",Times,serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 18px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">is the one who is the greatest."</span><br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",Times,serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 18px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span>
As the kids and I discussed it together, I thought immediately about the relationship between parents and their very young children. I asked them, "Do you think when Paul was an infant, when he woke for the tenth time in the middle of the night he thought to himself, 'Gee, I've already had Mom up so many times...I should ignore this hunger let her keep sleeping.' " (Wouldn't that be nice?) No, they agreed. Babies don't take their parents' needs into consideration. They simply respond (in a very needy way) to the desires of their heart. <br />
<br />
I have often thought that parenthood is truly made in these moments, more than any others. Sure the good moments are there, and thank God for them. But it is in the constant responding that we are able to pour ourselves into our children, that we are bonded in a way that goes beyond the superficial. Whether it's caring for a sick child, watching them struggle with a difficult situation, being in front of a very emotional child that you can't walk away from, or any one of the many ways our children are bundles of need at our feet - these are tough, but ultimately what sets our relationship about that of anyone else. Anyone can appreciate the sweetness of a child, but no one loves them like their parents do (and they don't love anyone else the way they love their parents). This bond comes from sacrifice that is, in a way, pleaded for by a child in tremendous need in front of their parent.<br />
<br />
Re-reading this Gospel with this in mind, it strikes me that in trying to put themselves in a position of power, the disciples are stepping out of this relationship of need. Rather than recognizing their tremendous need before Christ they try to be self-sufficient. They downplay their needs so that they can become efficient and great, and in this way they hinder how He is able to act in their lives. We too, can be this way. When we downplay our needs and desires, or rush through them because we think we should be more mature about this by now, we are in a sense, removing the possibility of being filled by Jesus. Sure, the selfish part of me would love it if my baby had the presence of mind to ignore his needs in the middle of the night and keep from waking me. But this would remove the element of sacrifice, and the possibility of me being there for him and pouring myself into him. It is in this need that demands a response that the possibility of being loved on a new level exists.<br />
<br />
This is what I think Jesus is saying to us in this Gospel. Not that he doesn't want us to be fulfilled or happy, or to have ambition. But that He wants us to be completely ourselves, even in our deepest needs. To not feel that we have to have things under control, or that we can't burden Him with more of the same struggles. When we are as a child in front of Him it is without any kind of holding back. And He, the gentle father, just like every one of us who has children, does not begrudge us these moments. Rather He waits expectantly for the day when we will, in all of our need, cry out for Him. He anticipates it and is ready, waiting to fill us in a way that could not happen unless we had such need for Him. <br />
<br />
Let us go out today, as children before the need. Fully aware of our tremendous need, not hiding anything before Him, and trusting Him to fill us up.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--DlMWM-_xWw/XZIBngJjGDI/AAAAAAAAB78/xmjLcF6Ymz81YgsLWF2h9xjsNI5L5SKJgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--DlMWM-_xWw/XZIBngJjGDI/AAAAAAAAB78/xmjLcF6Ymz81YgsLWF2h9xjsNI5L5SKJgCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/blog.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Natashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905668756839117702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428109078126616395.post-49453902587383467622019-07-08T22:04:00.000-07:002019-07-08T22:04:55.455-07:00Where There Is NeedMany years ago, when my children were younger in age and fewer in number, I remember a dear friend (and mother of ten) telling me about how she met the needs of her older children while balancing life as a mother to very young children. Because when you have many children, at a certain point you find yourself with two very different age groups at the same time. The littlest children have a way of making sure their needs are met - they are very demanding and dependant, and parents of the very young will find they are on their mind most of the time. We naturally gravitate to our littles, sensing their immense need and making ourselves available. But older children are a different bunch. As they grow and become more independent, we see them less. We tend to them less, because they are doing more for themselves. They don't open up as easily, even when we ask them about their lives, and it can be difficult knowing when to push, and when to allow the freedom and space to open up in their own time.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /><br />
Through careful attention, my friend had discovered a secret to this older set - that if you stay up late, that's when they open up. If you're still up when they get home from being out late at night, when the house is quiet and their siblings are all tucked in for the night, that's when according to her, the older children would open up. She, who as the mother of small babies was often up through the nights and early into the morning, was always exhausted at day's end, and favored a reasonable, early bedtime. But once she happened upon this discovery, she felt it was essential for her to be available. She would put on a pot of coffee to keep from falling asleep, and do her best to be awake when they got home. There in the late hours of the day, she became the happy recipient of the gift of their hearts, as they very willingly opened up about their lives and the struggles they were having. It was not forced, it was simply a response to her being there.<br />
<br />
I have always kept this with me, for the day when I had older children of my own. I will admit that over the years I have come to romanticize it a bit, because I am a night owl myself. I love the idea of staying awake, waiting for my older kids to come home, put on a pot of coffee and hearing all about their lives. Isn't it funny how we can build up things in our mind? We have a plan of how we might walk through a circumstance based on someone else's experience, and even imagine that because we know of their lives, we will somehow be spared a bit of the sacrifice. True, sharing of wisdom is so encouraging, and I feel I have a treasure trove of life experience from friends I respect and value so much. But still, God has His own way, and we can never really know it until we live it.<br />
<br />
While I would happily sit into the late hours of the evening every night of the week, this does not seem to be when God wants me to be available for my children. For me, the sacrifice comes out of my daytime, and specifically my precious little time with grownups. Over the past year it has been a struggle for me to make real connections with people, and I crave opportunities not just to socialize (which don't get me wrong, is beautiful in its own right), but to really grow in friendship by sharing life and experience. I have had many beautiful moments lately of being surrounded by people that I am just dying to talk to about life, only to be constantly pulled away by children. <br />
<br />
During a recent visit of friends from away, I missed many opportunities to gather with the rest of the adults because of errands for the kids. At our CL Vacation last weekend, where sessions are offered for the adults while children participate in day programs, I was unable to leave my two youngest children alone, because they kept escaping to find me. After several failed attempts at leaving them, I finally resigned myself to the fact that for this year, my vacation would be with them in their Petit Ecole. While I was initially disappointed at this, over the course of the weekend I had many beautiful moments with my six younger children, and as I opened my heart to the possibility that maybe this was the Vacation God had intended for me, I felt more happy with my time there.<br />
<br />
Upon returning home we had the joy of welcoming three friends who live abroad (in different parts of the world) who all happen to be visiting at the same time. It has been a beautiful time of gatherings and day trips, but still I find myself longing for that connection. Again my littlest ones require so much care; but this is to be expected. What has been surprising for me however, is how the needs of the older ones have made themselves apparent in this situation, and the sacrifice it has asked of me.<br />
<br />
While the littler ones go to bed earlier, it's the older ones who are awake later into the evening, when I would hope to have quiet time to catch up. And more than once during this week, I have found myself in a bedroom talking a child through a difficulty they were having, only to hear from behind the door the sounds of our guests leaving for the night. It has been frustrating and discouraging, and yet a gift at the same time. Because I realize that for me, this is my late night coffee. This is me waiting up, being there for them, putting myself and my own needs aside because, for whatever reason, this is the time when they are ready and willing to open up the most, and I don't want to miss that opportunity. <br />
<br />
While I am still pained at missing opportunities with my friends, I realize that (hopefully) they will still be here after my children are grown. For now, the most immediate need for my children is that whenever they are ready to open up, I am available. Whatever I need to sacrifice is worth it. Because while it is true that I would love to be connecting with friends, the gift of truly connecting with a child who has otherwise been closed off is far more valuable to me. What I receive when I make a choice for one of them is so precious, and the window for being able to take advantage of such a moment will not always be open. Like my friend who came to recognize those times and prepared herself to meet her children, I want to anticipate them, and be a willing and available ear. <br />
<br />
I am so grateful to my friend for her romantic example of making coffee and being awake for her children. And I am thankful to God that He shows me a new way to be awake to my children in my own circumstance. I don't have it all figured out, but I don't need to. As long as I am attentive and alert, Jesus will guide me in whatever I need. I simply must be willing to be available wherever the need is presented to me.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Lp4rf-Qj7uw/XSQfD2VNV3I/AAAAAAAAB7Y/6WZPwiLwBN8f2_ZiQYagU7HgTxOQYJWlQCLcBGAs/s1600/blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Lp4rf-Qj7uw/XSQfD2VNV3I/AAAAAAAAB7Y/6WZPwiLwBN8f2_ZiQYagU7HgTxOQYJWlQCLcBGAs/s400/blog.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />Natashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905668756839117702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428109078126616395.post-89811472951753528882019-06-20T08:17:00.000-07:002019-06-20T08:17:26.057-07:00The UnseenI am entering into a season of loneliness in my life,
again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve often reflected that loneliness
is a surprising and fairly constant companion in this vocation; surprising,
because my motherhood not only has me constantly surrounded by kids, but also in
contact with other parents as the lives of our children cross paths, and
constant, because just as it seems to me I am passing through it, lo and behold
I find it has once again crept in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Under
a new disguise, but always there, always the same.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
These days what really seems to cause it in my life are a
few different circumstances. Firstly, I have been aware that we are entering
another season of isolation as a family. When my husband and I first got
married and moved out of the city we experienced this (I’ve written about it
many times), and following those years there were blessed merciful years of
abundance. I foolishly came to think this was the new normal, and thank
God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And yet it seems that this
abundance was itself a season, that for now is passing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have been recognizing this and trying to come
to terms with it, hoping that the life I’ve lived to now has taught me not to
seek consolation from my immediate surroundings. That my longing for the
beautiful around me reminds me that what I really seek is not something this world
can provide.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first time around those
days were dark, but this time I feel Christ close to me, understanding that He answered
my prayer before, and He has a reason for leading me here again. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
The other contributing factor, and one that is not so easy to
come to terms with for me, is this feeling of being invisible. Don’t get me
wrong, I know when I go anywhere, people definitely “see” me and my brood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know we are loud, we are big, we are
surprising, and we are beautiful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People
comment all the time, say hello, marvel at how many kids there are and draw
conclusions about me that may or may not be true. People are drawn to our
family, and I have long been aware that people want to be friends with us often
for our family as a whole, and for the kids, and I love that so much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But in the middle of it all, often I feel
unseen as a person. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not known, not
having any real opportunity for connection on a personal level. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As my life gets bigger
and bigger, I feel like I am being stripped more of myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The climax for me came a few weeks ago when
some dear friends were visiting from away. I always anticipate with great joy
the company of these friends, as I can usually count on one moment where
everyone is together, talking about what God is doing in our lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are all reading the same work currently, a
work that has been pretty profound for me, and I was looking forward to
speaking with others who were reading the same things, and sharing with them.
But that moment never came this time. I had to miss out on a few things to take
care of small children or tend to bigger ones, and the one evening we had
together here ended up being cut short.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They left and went home, and I remained with the feeling that what I
wanted so badly to share was still resting inside. It definitely inspires
loneliness on a paramount level.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I don’t know what the solution is. I suspect it is not something
to be solved, but rather journeyed into.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I don’t know why Jesus has once again given me this cross to bear, but I
do know that consolation precedes suffering, and is meant to help us live the latter
with Him. I also am profoundly aware that not being able to share my life in
words with people at this moment does not take away all that Jesus is doing for
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, I think in a large part
what He has done has so much to do with this isolation, and this loneliness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because if my longing could be satisfied by
human interactions, I would be tempted to stop there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For a time, that was necessary, and He gave
me some beautiful people to journey with. But now, I feel like my road has
taken a different turn, a path He wants me to walk with Him alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For how long, only He knows, but while I am
here, I want to make the best of my time with Him.<br />
<br />
<br />
A dear friend of mine shared after our recent friends had
departed, that in a conversation with him about me, he saw me very clearly. She
said he articulated things about me to her that revealed that he had a very true
and real vision of me as a person, and this was so affirming to me. Because
even though I didn’t have an opportunity to share my heart as I had hoped, even
at times when it seems I am around people all the time but have little time to speak
about anything, even when I feel like nobody sees me, people do. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am not invisible, not to my family, not to
my friends, and most especially, not to Christ. I am just on a more secluded
part of the road.<br />
<br />
<br />
I pray for the grace to keep putting one foot in front of
the other, confident that even when I don’t see or feel it, that I am seen,
known and loved, by the ones who love me in this world, and by the One who gives
me life and sustains my hope for the next one.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-48aEytHi_tw/XQujdxUgAQI/AAAAAAAAB7A/mU6gZ3W_YZIo8Kmow0ar_kzUgr0ml4u_wCLcBGAs/s1600/blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1280" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-48aEytHi_tw/XQujdxUgAQI/AAAAAAAAB7A/mU6gZ3W_YZIo8Kmow0ar_kzUgr0ml4u_wCLcBGAs/s400/blog.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Natashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905668756839117702noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428109078126616395.post-34269622483374523622019-06-11T05:34:00.000-07:002019-06-11T05:35:06.049-07:00Bring Them InWhenever I bring home a new baby, it’s always especially important
to me to make the younger children in our family feel like this baby is theirs
too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I never ever want to get angry with
them or punish them for being curious about the new little one, because I want
them to love the baby as much as I do. It is of course, very easy in our desire
to protect this new little one, to keep the smallest ones away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I worry that will only create pain and
resentment, because they are after all my babies too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So instead of keeping them apart, I choose to teach them how
to be around the baby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To touch their
toes and not their hands and face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To be
gentle and not rough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To sit beside
Mommy while I nurse and not on top of me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
Of course they are little ones, and sometimes get swept up in the moment. They’re not always perfect, but when I lead
this way, I generally find that very little words are needed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By being welcomed into this new situation with
me, they naturally intuit that there is something sacred here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By being allow into my relationship with the
little one, they understand by the way I am loving the baby (and them) that this
little one is precious, fragile, special.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Things that are impossible to communicate with words become clear in a relationship,
if I allow love to lead me.<br />
<br />
<br />
This past Friday we took our kids to adoration.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our parish has First Friday adoration every
month, and I try to bring the kids when I can. Conscious of their rambunctiousness,
I generally wait until the last half hour, to give faithful adorers a few
moments of silence before our brood comes in and changes the atmosphere. I
knelt down in front of Jesus to pray, and no sooner did I silence my heart than
my eight-year-old stood directly in front of me, blocking my view of the
Lord.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span>
<br />
This kind of interruption is not uncommon with them. Often
when I am talking with another person and one of them wants my attention, they
will place themselves directly between me and that person, so that I can’t see
them anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt a frustration bubbling
forth, and was about to get angry at said child for stealing a beautiful moment
from me, when I was suddenly inspired to bring him in. Rather than discipline him,
I put my arm around him and gently pulled him to my side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Do you see what I’m looking at?” I asked
him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<br />
He looked up, and said, “yes, you’re
looking at Jesus.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span>
<br />
“Right,” I told him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Do
you know why I’m looking at Jesus?”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Because you’re praying?” he inquired.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Because I’m loving Him,” I responded.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“And I’m letting Him love me.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Instantly he understood the sacredness of this moment. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He gave me a big hug and snuggled up in front of
me, facing the Lord.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not entirely
sure that he was praying himself, but he was definitely taking this moment
in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One by one each of my other children
(littles and teens alike) proceeded to do the same thing. It was as if the Lord
was sending them to me!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And each time I responded
the same way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their hearts were moved by
the simple act of seeing me loving Jesus. My daughter even asked me how I love
Jesus, so I tried with a very few words to explain how I enter into
adoration.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I sit very still,” I told
her. “And I look at Jesus, and I quiet my heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lots of times, I can almost feel as if my
heart is burning.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Wow,” she responded.<br />
<br />
<br />
Wow indeed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<br />
For me,
this experience of tenderness is not always intuitive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And as I shared this moment with my children,
I understood that it was an other-worldly grace given to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jesus acting through me, giving me the grace
to welcome my children before Him.<br />
<br />
<br />
It is so intuitive with a new baby, but less so I think in these
moments with the Sacraments, when there are other people around, and expectations,
and it takes more faith to see what is before our eyes. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How often do I bring my kids to Mass and spend
the entire time snapping at them, correcting them, being frustrated with them
for distracting me (and everyone else), and interrupting our time with the
Lord? And how much different would it be if I simply brought them in?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I allowed them to see me loving Jesus, and
led with that?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I held back my words
and allowed the love that flows from my relationship with Jesus to envelop them
too, to communicate this sacred, holy moment?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They would understand, I am certain, far more than a few angry reprimands
delivered in haste and frustration.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
would get it, and so would I.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That the
only way to communicate a love beyond words is to let love do the talking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To bring them in, and allow them to be
touched in the same way that I am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<br />
<br />
Love is not meant to isolate us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is meant to be lived in a
relationship.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And the genius of Jesus is
that He forces us to be open to the other, as they are.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If we could communicate on our own, we would
thing ourselves quite holy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But He doesn’t
leave us there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He strips us of our
faculties, of our ability to fall back on words to get our kids to understand.
And in so doing, He requires that we get in touch with Him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, the end result is more favorable
for the kids. But for us, even more so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because
it makes this encounter with Him necessary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And when we meet Him in this way, and discover that He is the answer to
our needs, we discover again what we always knew, but falls too quickly into
the background as the demands of daily life swirl around us – that love truly
is all we need.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mOuMGrM51tg/XP-fnInWbII/AAAAAAAAB6w/JBAoxvaFRUMyBFnFs1C_kv8VzQddPkNoACLcBGAs/s1600/blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mOuMGrM51tg/XP-fnInWbII/AAAAAAAAB6w/JBAoxvaFRUMyBFnFs1C_kv8VzQddPkNoACLcBGAs/s400/blog.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Natashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905668756839117702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428109078126616395.post-2559555649272497302019-05-15T18:17:00.000-07:002019-05-15T18:17:25.999-07:00As You Love
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: "inherit",serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">We celebrated
Mother’s Day a few days ago, and for me it was one of the best ones yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is significant, because I have a rocky
history with this holiday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It started with
my first Mother’s Day, when we were both new parents and new puppy parents as
well. Being responsible dog owners we had our puppy go through obedience
training, which was quite suited to her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We entered her into a dog show, which happened to be scheduled on – you guessed
it, Mother’s Day weekend. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not only did
we find ourselves trying to make time for both of our mothers on this important
day, but now the dog was getting in on it too. And she totally bombed her show!
How’s that for gratitude?</span></div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: "inherit",serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Every year
Mother’s Day would roll around, and every year I’d get some idea of what I
wanted to do to celebrate it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing
too big, sometimes a day at the park, sometimes brunch out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But
every year I bought into the hype surrounding the holiday – this is your
day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You should be spoiled and taken
care of, and everything should be perfect for you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Which of course, doesn’t happen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Children don’t stop being children on Mother’s
Day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They won’t magically stop fighting
or keep the house clean, or go happily where you’d like them to go just because
it’s Mother’s Day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Husbands won’t cease
to have the demands that they have on their lives, simply because it’s Mother’s
Day. And so it came to be that somehow, I always found myself feeling last.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: "inherit",serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Until one
year, a little while back, something clicked for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I realized that since I started having babies,
I stopped doing Mother’s Day right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before
that I knew it was about honoring my mother, and I went to great lengths to do
that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I never thought about myself on
that day, but did what I could to make it special for her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When my husband and I started dating, we spent
our time between both families for both of our mothers, because this is a day
for them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once I had children, I did
become a mother, but I didn’t stop being a daughter. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: "inherit",serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">I realized
in that moment that the reason I always felt let down was because I was looking
for my kids to do for me what they can’t do yet, and I had stopped putting my
full focus on honoring the two mothers I have to the fullest, because I was so
caught up in the kind of day I wanted for myself. From then on my plan for Mother’s
Day became see my mothers. Both ask me each year what I want to do, both put me
first on a day that is meant for them as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I spent a happy day this year running to both sides of town, soaking up
the day in the best possible way with the two families I adore, and it filled
my heart to the brim.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is how I want
to do Mother’s Day from now on, because life is so much sweeter when we look to
others first. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: "inherit",serif; font-size: 10.5pt;"><i>“The law of
life is loving, not being compensated. We suffer when we don’t receive anything
in return, but this fact does not destroy companionship nor unity. Everything
is born within us. Everything!” </i></span></div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 4.5pt; orphans: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: "inherit",serif; font-size: 10.5pt;"><i>(Luigi
Giussani)</i></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 4.5pt;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 4.5pt;">
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: "inherit",serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">I read this quote this morning and it spoke directly to my
heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are so many situations
where I am wounded, and which I approach with a selfish position of wanting
something for myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What if I approach
each of these in the same way I have begun (after many years of messing it up)
to approach Mothers Day?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What if I went
into each relationship not looking for what I can receive, but simply loving
the other?</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 4.5pt;">
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: "inherit",serif; font-size: 10.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 4.5pt;">
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: "inherit",serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">I thought of my children and the way I relate to them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I am busy and trying to get a million
things done so I can get out the door, and someone is putting on the brakes and
not applying themselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or when I am appalled
at the constant mess of everything they come in contact with – our living
spaces, our van, our yard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I am frustrated
at the way they treat one another, and their lack of empathy and
compassion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When they just won’t listen.
All of these circumstances elicit anger in me, and too often I find myself
reacting in a split second, rather than seeing the big picture.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 4.5pt;">
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: "inherit",serif; font-size: 10.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 4.5pt;">
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: "inherit",serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Discipline is important, to not discipline is to leave a child
severely impeded in life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, I
think that when anger sets it, more often than not it can be because I feel
that I am not being compensated in some way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I am not being helped out, I am not being rewarded for all my hard
work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am not being considered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How often have I told my children that I feel
last.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why is this?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because I had an expectation that I wouldn’t
be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In other words, I expected to be before
them and their needs. The tension comes from this expectation that goes unmet
for the vast majority of mothers, and which also flies in the face of what
Jesus tells us,</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 4.5pt;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 4.5pt;">
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: "inherit",serif; font-size: 10.5pt;"><i>“Anyone who wants to be first must be the very last, and the
servant of all." (Mark 9:35)</i></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 4.5pt;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 4.5pt;">
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: "inherit",serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">What if, in my dealings with my children, I always had before me
their greater good instead of my own personal gain?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead of focussing on the impact to me when
they don’t behave as they ought to (for surely it does impact me), what if the
goal was to simply encourage them to be a better person because I want them to
be happy?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I would not give up on
the discipline, but perhaps I would have more compassion for those in my
care.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It would become important to me
that they work hard and do their best not simply because that’s a benefit to me
(which it would be) but primarily because it is for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">their good.</i> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 4.5pt;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 4.5pt;">
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: "inherit",serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Msgr. Giussani had great love for each person’s destiny, which
is ultimate union with God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When he met
someone, he looked at them with great affection, not because he knew them
(often times he didn’t know them at all) but because he knew what they were
created for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He desired with his whole
being to lead everyone to that destiny, out of love for them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is the way I want to love every person
around me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is the wonder with which
I want to see my children, my family, my friends. Too long I have spent
floundering in hurt feelings over what I think I deserve from people. Of counting
the cost and feeling that I come up short. I want instead to love with reckless
abandon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To put the other first not just
in times when it’s convenient for me, but always.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To love people as they are right now because
I know who they are and what they were created for, and I want to do whatever I
can to help them get there.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 4.5pt;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 4.5pt;">
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: "inherit",serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">I want to love, Jesus, as you love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please continue to teach me.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 4.5pt;">
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: "inherit",serif; font-size: 10.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pU5nAoDppYY/XNy54ihvFjI/AAAAAAAAB6Y/UcPoKfElslYXwh4jVHfvqpS1QcJY0bJTACLcBGAs/s1600/blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1350" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pU5nAoDppYY/XNy54ihvFjI/AAAAAAAAB6Y/UcPoKfElslYXwh4jVHfvqpS1QcJY0bJTACLcBGAs/s400/blog.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 4.5pt;">
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: "inherit",serif; font-size: 10.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Natashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905668756839117702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428109078126616395.post-61122903833768160112019-05-07T06:13:00.000-07:002019-05-07T06:13:32.536-07:00The Bread of Life
<br />
I am in a complicated stage of life right now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve shared often about the isolation I feel
in my vocation and the daily living of my life, and while the particular circumstances
have changed over the years, the general feeling remains.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I often feel alone, like I don’t really
belong, like regular community is hard to achieve in the midst of such a full
and busy life (especially when everyone else is just as busy).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Living in the country away from the center of
where everything seems to being going on adds a new dimension to this hurt, as
I see all around me communities thriving, and feel the pain of being just on
the outside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
<br />
Truth be told, this is a burden I have lived with my whole
life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have a tendency to feel on the
outside, even when I’m not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I was
in school, I always wished I was one of the popular kids. When my husband and I
first started dating, I thought everyone liked him better than me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And now, as an adult, I think this is how it
manifests itself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So this week I have
been trying to focus not on what others have, but on being happy for them, and
looking at my own life and what God has given me, and how that leads me to
grace in its own particular way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Yesterday at a certain point I realized that part of what I desire is
esteem and approval, and so I prayed that God would help me to be happy with a
secret, hidden life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span>
<br />
I love John of the Cross so much, and have often thought
that his writings on the Dark Night of the Soul parallel so much with motherhood,
and for me especially the trajectory I am on – this sort of secret, secluded
path that is hidden from the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A
path of suffering and loneliness, but also infinite possibility for union with
God that might not be possible if I was closer to people, and could pacify
these deep desires by hanging out with people more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span>
<br />
Another work I recently began reading is Catherine Doherty’s
“Poustinia – Encountering God in Silence, Solitude and Prayer,” which touches
on much of the same thing, and encourages me to journey inward in the face of
these insecurities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“So the Poustinik,”
she writes, “usually selected a secluded spot in a clearing in the woods.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He sought the really hidden places of his
world – mountains, forests, woods – places where he was really alone with
God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thus his human horizons were somewhat
limited so his spiritual horizons could grow without distraction.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In two short lines I feel like Catherine Doherty
at once summarizes my life, and gives me something to strive for and not fight
against when living out these circumstances God calls me to.<br />
<br />
<br />
And yet, often I still struggle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I slip back into this, “but what if?” state
of mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More than anything, what I
desire is true friendship, true connection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I lament what is past, moments of life that were sweet and bustling with
what I realize now I took for granted – friends who were always around, and
always open.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As life changes and people move
on, I go from trying to make peace with it all, to really missing it and
wanting it back.<br />
<br />
<br />
And so this morning’s Gospel reading really opened my heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is the Bread of Life discourse, and in it the
disciples are asking for a sign from Him, so they can believe Him, like when
Moses gave them Manna.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am not typically
an ultimatum-giving kind of person, and on the surface I don’t think I’ve ever
asked Jesus for a sign. But on further reflection, I do think that I experienced
something in my community when I was younger that served as a sign of Christ,
much like the manna in the desert, and that in many ways I cling to that now,
and want it back.<br />
<br />
<br />
The disciples ask Him, like I do very often, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“give us this bread always." Let me live
in this circumstance where you were so present, so real to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What’s wrong with wanting this?<br />
<br />
<br />
Nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s not
wrong to desire the goodness you have lived before, and to know that it is
possible now. But for me, the real eye opener is where I am putting my focus. In
short, what is the bread of life?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These
relationships I have lived in the past, the ones I still desire now, are so
very sweet, and so good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But they are
not the bread of life, any more than manna from Heaven is our salvation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are merely a vessel through which the
bread of life touches us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And He can touch
us just as much in the absence of these vessels.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the secret quiet solitude of the hidden
life of motherhood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the Dark Night through
which He calls us into more intimate union with Him.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Jesus said to them, ‘I am the bread of life; whoever comes
to me will never hunger, and whoever believes in me will never thirst’.” When I
heard this, I realized there is still so much I hunger and thirst for. And I
wonder if I was not in this particular stage of life, would I even know this
hunger? Or would I placate myself with other things and convince myself that
these are union with Christ?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is hard
to feel alone, and I don’t think anyone, in any walk of life is immune to it.
But for me, having a vocation that takes so much out of me and doesn’t allow me
to make any quick changes that I think will solve the problem forces me to look
at it head on as something given to me by God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My constant desire to loved, affirmed and included is a wound that
continues to draw me to Jesus, who is the only One that can fill this longing.<br />
<br />
<br />
Give me always this bread that satisfies. And thank you for
the grace of feeling this hunger.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9d8_cX_Fhis/XNGEVP1UVxI/AAAAAAAAB6E/VWOdEiArGNobHu3-Hh1lK1KZBKYcYihhgCLcBGAs/s1600/blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1349" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9d8_cX_Fhis/XNGEVP1UVxI/AAAAAAAAB6E/VWOdEiArGNobHu3-Hh1lK1KZBKYcYihhgCLcBGAs/s400/blog.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Natashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905668756839117702noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428109078126616395.post-66588258836140010972019-04-21T19:34:00.002-07:002019-04-21T19:34:57.111-07:00Vigil, Darkness, and Morning
<br />
My experience of Holy Week this year was very much set by my
particular life circumstances this year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>For starters, in addition to being the biggest week in the Christian
calendar, it is also one of the busiest weeks in my academic year as a homeschooling
parent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our children have four major events
taking place next week, all of which require a ton of work to complete (and which
they have been working on for weeks).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
knew this was going to be the case, and we planned around it in order to be
prepared.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
<br />
What we did not plan on was me being sick for the second
time in two weeks (the first time was a bout of gastroenteritis that took out
the whole family, and caused us to lose a week of preparing for these events as
we took the time we needed to rest and get well).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This second illness, mercifully did not strike
everyone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And even those who did come
down with it seemed to bounce back relatively quickly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone that is, except for me. I can’t remember
the last time I have been so sick.<br />
<br />
<br />
That this would happen to me during Holy Week was not lost
on me, and from the beginning I asked Jesus to use this to help me enter into
His passion with Him. Every day I would wake up in the morning thinking, “today
is the day I’m going to start getting better.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And every day my illness dragged on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But life didn’t stop, it couldn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We have too much to prepare for. And so I reflected on how I could put
one foot in front of the other, doing one small thing at a time, with my eyes
on Jesus during this holiest of weeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It became very much a gift for me, because if I had not been ill I think
it would have been easy to get lost in the “doing” of this week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Get this project done, practice for this
event, pray this way, etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But having to
do all of this through sickness made me think of Jesus so much more, and made
me feel closer to Him in all of the things that were made more difficult because
of it.<br />
<br />
<br />
We had made arrangements to go to Confession at the beginning
of the week, and when I scheduled it (before I got sick), I thought briefly
about postponing until a less busy time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But I knew I wanted us to get to Confession before Easter, and I felt so
strongly that doing so even in our busiest week would help us to live all the
events that laid before us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Little did I
know how much more difficult they would be, and how true this would become.<br />
<br />
<br />
My husband proposed that we try to attend Mass as often as
we could, and again for a split second I thought I could not do this. But once
again, this overwhelming feeling that only way to live all the intensity of my
life in this moment was united to Christ came over me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And knowing that this was not just any other week,
I responded that yes, we could do that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And we did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span>
<br />
Perhaps one of the more difficult ways my illness has
impacted me this week was in the way I live my devotions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because I had no voice, I could not sing
(which I love so much, especially during the Triduum).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could not receive Eucharist on the tongue, or
kiss the cross during the veneration on Good Friday. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Things that would seem small to most people,
but for me, because I had decided to do them in order to help me feel more
close to Jesus, not being able to was a bit of a sadness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like when you can’t kiss your elderly
grandparent or hold a new baby because you’re ill, you feel the loss of that
outward sign of affection when everything inside of you is longing to show it.<br />
<br />
<br />
However, here is where it really began to bring about a
change in me. In all of this, I became aware that all of these things have
become traditions, and we have had the blessings to think about them for many
years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those of us who have grown from
infancy in the Church have had time to sit with them, to decide how we are going
to observe these days, what is most meaningful, which things we will practice
in order to hand them down to our children. All very beautiful things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But for me, being stripped of many of these
comforts brought me face to face with Jesus in a way I had not been
before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It reminded me that once, there
was a first Good Friday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And these people
did not plan how they were going to mark the day, what they would do to help
them connect with Jesus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They simply lived
it with Him. In many ways this year I felt that my inability to do things I
longed to do helped me to live the Triduum with Him.<br />
<br />
<br />
A reflection I came across during Holy Week asked me to
place myself on the Way of the Cross, and to think about how I would be, and
what I would do. And I thought, “I would look at Him.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would want to see His face, to gaze at Him
even if He was never able to look back at me, only because if He did, if at
some moment His eyes searched for comfort in mine, I wanted them to be there ready
for Him. If I had worry or fear or pain, I would not want to live from that in
that moment, I would want to live only for Him, and what He needed from
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would want the affection of His
gaze alone, and for Him to know the affection of mine.<br />
<br />
<br />
I thought of the Blessed Mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She did not focus on comforting herself by
throwing herself at Jesus and wailing, though no one would have blame her for
doing so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was not living those
moments for herself at all, if she was how could she endure them?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was living for Him. And in a very small
way, I feel that this is what Holy Week this year has taught me.<br />
<br />
<br />
During the Easter Vigil Mass, at a parish we have never attended
for Easter before, I sat in the quiet room in the dark, rocking my baby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The church, lit only by candlelight, was
still bathed in darkness as we waited to commemorate the resurrection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My young son was mesmerized by something
behind us, and when I turned to see what it was I saw a fine mist falling
outside in the darkness. In the light of day such a small thing would pass by us unnoticed. But by night, in the glow of candlelight, it is serene. And in that moment, so close to the culmination of this
great feast, I could not help but feel gratitude for the gift of the darkness.<br />
<br />
<br />
Or perhaps not the darkness itself, but Christ’s presence in
it. Touching every part of it, illuminating it, changing it. Not taking it
away, but calling us to walk through it, and giving us what we need to do just
that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He not only modelled that for us
during the events of His passion, but He continues to give us circumstances
that allow us to do the same thing in our own lives, over and over again. This
year for me, it was being sick for the second time in two weeks, in the busiest
week of the year, during Holy Week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If
it had not been for Jesus, this week could have gone very differently. But with
Him and through Him, I have walked one of the most beautiful moments of unity
with Him that I have ever experienced.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span>
<br />
I am still sick today, but Christ has risen!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Very truly, in every way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Alleluia!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Alleluia!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QR8etvD5lxg/XL0oMKLL_II/AAAAAAAAB5w/H8YTy7T51lQlETiWTP11830Nn9AGTiCGwCLcBGAs/s1600/blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QR8etvD5lxg/XL0oMKLL_II/AAAAAAAAB5w/H8YTy7T51lQlETiWTP11830Nn9AGTiCGwCLcBGAs/s400/blog.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Natashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905668756839117702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428109078126616395.post-20985100866666596352018-09-11T05:04:00.000-07:002018-09-11T05:04:23.634-07:00Thoughts on a Rainy Tuesday<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; border-bottom-color: rgb(68, 67, 64); border-bottom-style: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-image-outset: 0; border-image-repeat: stretch; border-image-slice: 100%; border-image-source: none; border-image-width: 1; border-left-color: rgb(68, 67, 64); border-left-style: none; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-color: rgb(68, 67, 64); border-right-style: none; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-color: rgb(68, 67, 64); border-top-style: none; border-top-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444340; font-family: &quot; font-size: 18px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 300; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 28.8px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; outline-color: invert; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
As a general rule, most people don’t like the rain. We all see it as necessary, vital to life. But the rain generally means a bad weather day. We stay in, things get wet and kind of gloomy. A favorite song of mine says, “I can’t stop the rain, but I will hold you till it goes away.” We understand that we need rain, but we’re all just waiting for it to go away.</div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #444340; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: "Source Sans Pro",Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 300; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; border-bottom-color: rgb(68, 67, 64); border-bottom-style: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-image-outset: 0; border-image-repeat: stretch; border-image-slice: 100%; border-image-source: none; border-image-width: 1; border-left-color: rgb(68, 67, 64); border-left-style: none; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-color: rgb(68, 67, 64); border-right-style: none; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-color: rgb(68, 67, 64); border-top-style: none; border-top-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444340; font-family: &quot; font-size: 18px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 300; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 28.8px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; outline-color: invert; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
So the readings from this morning touched me immediately:</div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #444340; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: "Source Sans Pro",Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 300; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
</span>
<blockquote style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; border-bottom-color: rgb(68, 67, 64); border-bottom-style: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-image-outset: 0; border-image-repeat: stretch; border-image-slice: 100%; border-image-source: none; border-image-width: 1; border-left-color: rgb(68, 67, 64); border-left-style: none; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-color: rgb(68, 67, 64); border-right-style: none; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-color: rgb(68, 67, 64); border-top-style: none; border-top-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444340; font-family: &quot; font-size: 23px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 300; left: auto; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 36.8px; margin-bottom: 36.8px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; outline-color: invert; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 55.2px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: relative; quotes: &quot; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; top: auto; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<div style="border-bottom-color: rgb(68, 67, 64); border-bottom-style: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-image-outset: 0; border-image-repeat: stretch; border-image-slice: 100%; border-image-source: none; border-image-width: 1; border-left-color: rgb(68, 67, 64); border-left-style: none; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-color: rgb(68, 67, 64); border-right-style: none; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-color: rgb(68, 67, 64); border-top-style: none; border-top-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: &quot; font-size: 23px; font-style: normal; font-weight: 300; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: invert; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“You poured down, O God, a generous rain:<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />
When your people were starved you gave them new life.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />
It was there that your people found a home,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />
Prepared in your goodness, O God, for the poor.”</div>
</blockquote>
Read the rest over at <a href="https://daughtersofsaintjohn.wordpress.com/2018/09/11/thoughts-on-a-rainy-tuesday/">Daughters of Saint John</a>.<br />
<br />
<br />Natashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905668756839117702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428109078126616395.post-14295659482275430472018-05-26T13:29:00.003-07:002018-05-26T13:29:43.776-07:00Blessed the People - Thoughts on the Readings for Trinity Sunday"<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 18px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 300; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">But there is more to our relationship than just the happy and positive. The psalmist reminds us that, “The eyes of the Lord are upon those who fear Him, upon those who hope for His kindness. To deliver them from death and preserve them in spite of famine.” Sometimes we see God in His glorious presence, but other times, it takes a moment of suffering. Both are part of His plan."</span><br />
<div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 18px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 300; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 18px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 300; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Read the rest over at <a href="https://daughtersofsaintjohn.wordpress.com/2018/05/26/blessed-the-people-thoughts-on-the-readings-for-trinity-sunday/#more-416">Daughters of Saint John</a>.</span></div>
<br />Natashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905668756839117702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428109078126616395.post-72457812166807884142018-05-15T18:57:00.000-07:002018-05-15T18:57:18.458-07:00Me! Me! Look at Me!
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I don’t think it would come to anyone’s great surprise to
know that there are a lot of things competing for my attention at any given
time. And that makes daily life fairly intense for me most of the time. On the
whole I can usually manage, but every now and again there comes a period of
time in which it seems everything is coming at me at once, and I get bowled
over.</span></div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">That was the case for me this past month. April is always a
busy month, and so we anticipate and plan for it in our school year, but
nothing can ever quite prepare me for it.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>I end up doing a lot of running, a lot of bending the rules and making
things work, and a lot of just trying to survive. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And then, once we had made it through our busiest two weeks,
the promise of normalcy on the horizon, the Saint John River swelled and
overtook the bottom of our road. Our home was well out of harm’s way, but we were
forced to move our brood out of our home for more than a week until we could
safely drive across the road and back up to our house.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>During this time we also said goodbye to my
husband’s Grandmother quite suddenly.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>It
made for an emotional time.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When we were finally back in our house, a friend said
jokingly to me, “hey, remember that time when you had to evacuate your house
and your husband’s grandmother died?” And I said to her, “It’s crazy
right?<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Who could plan this? Only Jesus,
because He wants to teach me something in it.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We joked a little more about how demanding Jesus is, and I
kidded that He needs to be with me, because my life is too crazy for Him to be
able to reach me otherwise!<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>But the more
I thought about it, the more I realized that this is indeed the case.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Left to my own devices, I’d likely never even
notice the gentle hand of Jesus stretched out to walk with me, I have too much
going on.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>So what else can He do but
penetrate the noise? He reaches into the mess that is my daily life and says, sometimes
gently and sometimes forcefully,</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Natasha,<br />
<br />
Natasha,<br />
<br />
Look at me.<br />
<br />
I’m over here.<br />
<br />
Natasha<br />
<br />
Give me your attention!”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">St. John of the Cross in his book, “The Living Flame of
Love,” writes that, “if a soul is to be the recipient of His grace passively,
in the natural way of God, and not in the supernatural way of the soul, it follows
that, in order to be such a recipient, it must be perfectly detached, calm, peaceful
and serene, as God is…thus the soul must be attached to nothing, not even to meditation.”<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>And I wonder if maybe the constant demands of
my life are in fact a way of detaching me from my own will, and preparing me to
be more attentive to Jesus in my life.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">St. John continues, “God requires a spirit free and annihilated,
for every act of the soul, even of thought, of liking or disliking, will hinder
and disturb it, and break the profound silence of sense and spirit necessary
for hearing the deep and soft word of God.” <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>And I wonder if it’s possible that the chaos I
live actually makes me more free to see Jesus, when He breaks in and becomes so
demanding?</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">How can silence exist in the midst of such a noisy life? Because
the chaos helps me search for silence, not just something of my own making that
allows me to feel good about myself, but the true silence that is a balm for
one who desperately desires peace.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>If it
were not so, I think it would be much easier for me to construct something that
I thought was a fruitful prayer time and be happy with my own efforts. But the
way things are now I don’t have the opportunity to make it anything pretty, I
just show up because I NEED to.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Because
without it, I would surely succumb to hopelessness and despair.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>And when I come thus, with my heart and my
will bare – ah! This is when Christ is truly able to work in me.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Because my life is so demanding, Christ is even more
demanding, such that I must respond. Sometimes He is tender and serene, but not
always.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Often for me He is loud,
deliberate, and authoritative.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>It puts a
lot on me, to be sure.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>But He never
asked me to carry it on my own. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Me! Me!<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Look at Me,”
He says.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>And when I do, I find in Him all
grace I need to continue in His love.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n-VIOVaKav8/WvuPvkMXmAI/AAAAAAAAB2s/4jjjZ2P3z4cacANYR9UtrHH_yJ_ZsckygCLcBGAs/s1600/blog1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n-VIOVaKav8/WvuPvkMXmAI/AAAAAAAAB2s/4jjjZ2P3z4cacANYR9UtrHH_yJ_ZsckygCLcBGAs/s400/blog1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span>Natashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905668756839117702noreply@blogger.com0