July 23, 2013 Snapshot

Well so much for my once-a-week intention to snapshot!  We've been busy!  Nevertheless, it's never too late to get back at it and so, while I could never recap the last two months of craziness around here, I can make an attempt at last week:

Last week was a bit of a crazy one.  We thought we were going to family camp in Little Harbour Nova Scotia, but alas, those plans fell through.  We decided to make the best of it and have a stay-cation, doing what we could close to home.  On our first day (which was actually Tuesday, since our van was in the shop until then) we stopped by a local nature park for a picnic lunch.  I brought my camera everywhere we went, even though we were staying mostly in our own city, because I still wanted it to feel like vacation.  Katie was delighted, and asked me to follow her around taking pictures while she posed.  Whenever I ask her to smile she makes this crazy, forced grin where you see all  her teeth and she looks kind of scary.  So I asked her to think of something really sweet and she made her kiss face.  Adorable!

These are my kids, on the beach at the Nature Park.  We played in the water for a little bit, but I'll admit I was terrified!  The current there can be strong, although my husband assures me it's not dangerous unless there's a storm.  But I had just had surgery four weeks ago for a hernia repair and could not do any heavy lifting or straining, so feeling like I couldn't go after one of the kids if they did get out too far was a little nerve-wracking, since my husband had to hold the baby.  I kept a death-grip on my toddler's hand, and didn't allow the kids to go much beyond their calves, and we survived it.  They had so much fun letting the waves crash into them!

On our last day of vacation, we spent the night with a friend in Fredericton.  We've never really spent time in the city, but when Jeff was there for an event last weekend he saw how beautiful it was, and we took the opportunity to visit as a family.  It was raining when we arrived on Friday evening, and we arrived at a gallery we intended on visiting 20 minutes before closing, so we wandered around the city in the rain for a bit, then went to our newlywed friends' house for the evening.  The next day was much nicer, and we returned to the gallery and spent the afternoon strolling the city.  It was a great day.

So far our summer has consisted of a lot of beach and water time.  These guys don't mind a bit!

Jeff and I managed to get away for a date - our first without the baby since she was born!  It was fun to get out.  We went to a movie and while I enjoyed it more than Jeff did, it was nice to be out just the two of us.

My two oldest boys attended a drama camp the week before our vacation.  The oldest had done one last year, but this year he was one of the older kids, and they were the only two boys.  I was so proud of what they had accomplished by the end of the week!  Being homeschooled, they don't get much opportunity to come together with a group of kids and put on a production, so I am grateful for these opportunities when they come around.  They were so great!

This is another shot of our trip to the Nature Park.  The kids were loving posing for me, and I came away with many great memories captured in photo.

After almost four weeks of not being able to lift my baby, this felt like Heaven!  I could sit with her if someone brought her to me, but I couldn't pick her up and carry her around, which was good (so good!) for my husband and both of her grandmothers (who came to help me when Jeff was at work), but a little sad for me because it meant that when she was upset, she wanted them.  Even when I was able to get down on the floor with her, once she figured out I wasn't picking her up it didn't take her long to find someone who could do stuff for her.  It felt so good to have my arms full of her again, but already she is clingy to me.  Perhaps I spoil her just a little bit?   I'm just making up for lost time.

This last photo was taken by my oldest son, and is possibly one of my favorite pictures ever.  It is at the top of a hill near a beach we visited last week, and the kids were having so much fun running up and down.  I love the way the kids are all to one side, and all the clear blue sky.  I think I have a budding photographer on my hands!

Even though we didn't make it to Nova Scotia, and my heart still sinks a little whenever I think of it, I am still immensely grateful for the time we spent together at home.  God is so good, and has given us so many great things to celebrate!  I sure do love this little life.

In honour of Natural Family Planning Awareness Week

It's Natural Family Planning (NFP) Awareness Week, and that has me reflecting on my own family life, and the conversion process that continues to take place after eight pregnancies, six babies, and ten years of marriage.

I've often said that when I exchanged vows with my husband on our wedding day and promised to be "open to life", I didn't really know what that meant.  I always have identified myself as pro-life, but NFP really is a conversion process.  Like many couples, our circumstances were less than ideal to have a baby when we first got married (or so we thought).  My new husband had two more years of school, and so we had prudently decided to postpone a pregnancy until he was finished, so that I could work and we would not be left with maternity leave benefits as our sole source of income.  And so we set about not conceiving - the church-approved way.

Of course we did conceive.  I think possibly on our honeymoon.  And while it had not been our initial plan, we were both thrilled.  Being newlyweds and having a new baby is so very exciting, and we were too caught up in the whirlwind of it all to be any less than happy.  Next time though, we'd do it better.  We'd pay more attention, be more cautious, and watch those charts.  We wouldn't make another mistake.

But NFP is more than just a series of charts that is the Church's alternative to contraception.  It involves the whole person, the whole relationship, self-discipline, and choosing to love each other and potential new life above all.  But the temptation is there to think that because we have all this knowledge of our biology and how it works, now we can control perfectly our family size.  And so when our second child was conceived nine months after the birth of our first, we felt like we had made a mistake.  How could this have happened so soon?  How could we have been so careless?  As time went on we accepted the new pregnancy and became happy about it, but still felt slightly embarassed about telling our friends (especially non-Catholic ones) that we were pregnant again.

And then that pregnancy ended in miscarriage at 12 weeks.  It was such a perplexing feeling of losing something you initially felt sad about, and had not really had a chance to know.  At so young although I had known the life was there, I didn't feel it within me.  I am so grateful for the gift of my oldest son, who really got us through that experience, and for the gift of that little baby, who we named John Paul, that paved the way for us to intentionally conceive our third child.

I should mention that I was working outside the home until my fifth son was born, and that added a whole new dimension of openess (or lack thereof) to my discernment of babies.  I always had a number in mind of how long I needed to be back to work, not just for EI hours (which to be truthful, I didn't want to consider, because I never intended to be that woman who was only working to build up maternity leave hours) but for my own image on the job.  I always dedicated myself as much as I could, and wanted to work with such integrity that my employers and coworkers could not ever be tempted to think I was using the job to pay for my babies.  But I experienced a whole new level of relief when my sixth child was conceived after I was home for good, because there wasn't that same kind of pressure to delay pregnancy for anyone else.

I've had people tease me about NFP, and say things like, "why would you ask them about it, they can't do it."  And I've heard people say things like, "we're doing NFP but it didn't work, because we conceived when we didn't intend to."  But as I look back on my life, on the four of my six children coceived when we were trying to postpone pregnancy, I realize that NFP was working exactly the way it was meant.  Because NFP is not a means of preventing pregnancy.  It is a means of making a decision as a couple, discerning, praying, and coming before the Lord saying, "okay God, here's what we think, and what we're working towards, but we're open to being lead in a different direction if we're wrong."  It is evidence that God does indeed step into our lives if we allow Him to, and correct us if our will differs from His.  And oh, what a joyful correction it is!  If only all of our mistaken ideas could be so generously corrected.  Because when I look back, there is not one of those babies conceived at a time when I was certain I "couldn't have a baby" that I really couldn't have had.  Not even my first, born while my husband still had one year of school to finish when we lived off of our maternity leave benefits and his student line of credit.  God sees the bigger picture, and if we allow Him to have dominion in our lives, He will reward us many times over.

So to anyone who has ever felt that NFP didn't work for you, or felt bad or embarassed that you "made a mistake", I say - kudos to you, for laying down your life and allowing God to do what many couples are so afraid of allowing Him to do.  You have your reward, and God will bring you many blessings.  You are a sign to the whole world that NFP does indeed work exactly as it should.

Martha's sacrifice

This weekend the gospel was the reading about Mary and Martha which, like most people, I've heard many times.  I think every woman (certainly every mother) can relate to the message the Lord is proposing - don't let the daily grind do you in.  Relationships are more important than chores, find Jesus in front of you.  Oh Martha, how could you be so silly?  Just rest a bit.

Listening to the homily this weekend made me look at this story a little different.  Our priest talked about comfort, specifically that hospitality often requires us to be uncomfortable.  And it made me think of last summer, how many times people would show up at our house unplanned, and how grateful I was after such a long time without regular companionship, of friends not simply when it was convenient for them, but who were really invested in me and made the effort to drop by.  I remember a few times wanting to crawl under a rock thinking that my house was so messy, but vowed that I always wanted my home to be an open one, where people could feel free to drop by unannounced and that I would value their friendship over a clean house. It didn't feel at all comfortable to be doing that, it was a conversion.  Something God was asking me to hand over to Him.

I always thought that Martha, once she actually stopped to sit in the Lord's presence, that she relaxed.  It never occurred to me that maybe she wasn't comfortable, that it was a real sacrifice for her to walk away from what she was doing.  She knew that when she was finished, her tasks would still be waiting for her.  She wasn't indulging anything, or trading anything.  Jesus was asking her to make a sacrifice - one that brought a greater good, but a sacrifice nonetheless.  And this is the way the Lord works in our lives.  Any greater good needs to come with sacrifice.  For a busy Mom, for Martha, that sacrifice is our control.  And that's no easy thing.

When I think about where I was last year vs. this year, what strikes me is how little control I have.  This time last year I was baking up a storm, making all my own bread and snacks for the kids, attending family camp, generally keeping things in order.  This year at four weeks post surgery I am still largely limited in the amount of things I can do around the house (only for the next couple of weeks though), very dependant on the people around me, and we missed family camp for the first time in five years. I have also had persistent issues nursing my daughter for the last two months, making something that should be so natural for me into such a work.  And while I've been learning so much about taking one thing at a time during all these small trials (which I am the first to admit are not so huge as they perhaps seem to me), and there has been good, it has not been comfortable.  Even when I submit willingly, when I hand over what I know the Lord is asking of me without reservation, there is still unrest.  Which I suppose is what makes the good something worth fighting for.

I relate to Martha in a whole new way this year.  And I pray that like her, I will always be able to welcome Christ in my midst.  To turn to Him even when it's not easy, even when I am distracted, even when it means giving up control in all the areas that make me feel like a better wife and mother.  May I always look to Him first, and know that I will only reach the fullness of my call when I take my identity with Him, and take each step, however uncertain, with His gentle direction.

A Moment in God's Presence

This is the result of a quiet moment with my four-year-old daughter this morning.  She was in the bathroom with me while I was taking a shower.  Sometimes, especially lately, I get this feeling of anxiety that just sets in for no apparent reason.  Kind of just an uneasiness tingling just below the surface.  And I'm recognizing the beauty of these moments, because they cause my heart to long for something more.  They cause me to not be happy with anything less than God's presence in every moment - they remind me He is near.

As the warm water from the shower hit me I exhaled a deep breath and said, "Praise the Lord!" To which my daughter responded, "Why praise the Lord?"  And I said, "because He's here, because He's close."  And she went happily along playing.  And I went happily along in my shower, drinking in this soothing moment of calm, relaxation, and being with my little girl.  The gift that is every day life.  The gift that is unexplained anxiety.  The gift that is each moment.

----------------------

Lord, You are never far away
The deepest stirrings of my heart
Point to You
So real, so true
Provoking my desire

Anxiety that takes my breath
And makes my heart to race
Longing for your embrace
It's Your face
Which brings me rest

The simple joys surrounding me
Exciting all my senses
Laughter, lullabies
The love in childrens' eyes
Moments so pure and true

In my heart of hearts there burns
A longing just for You
In joy, in pain
Many times over again
Resting only in You

These moments, pure gift
Always provoking my heart
Each step I take
Means to awake
A fire that burns for You

Other Plans

Every summer for the past five years we have attended a Catholic Family Camp in Little Harbour, Nova Scotia.  I will never forget how much that first year transformed our family life!  It was so encouraging to be around so many families while ours was so young (the oldest had just turned five) and to take in the wisdom and experience of the other families.  We have made it our goal ever since to attend, no matter what.

Us at family camp last year - so blessed by this beautiful place and these beautiful people!

So you can imagine our shock when, having the van in for some work the Thursday before leaving for this year's retreat (which we had planned to leave for that Sunday), the mechanic came across another problem, which required the ordering of a part, which would not arrive until that Monday - a day late.  A series of events leading up to this news had already caused us to question whether or not we should be going, and we decided to leave it in the Lord's hands.  We messaged the organizers, dear friends of ours, to let them know that we couldn't be there until early Tuesday morning, and that if there was another family looking for a space to give them ours, since we didn't want the opportunity to be lost.  And then we prayed that the Lord would make His will known to us.

Our friends told us to come when we could, and that they would take notes.  And so we adjusted our plans. The retreat begins each day with Mass at 9:00 am, followed by a parents' session from 10:00 am - noon while the kids are at a kids' program.  Then the rest of the day is free until 7:00 pm for rosary.  Sessions are Monday - Friday, and Little Harbour is a four hour (straight) drive away.  We figured if we packed the van up Monday afternoon when we got it back, made it an early night and got the kids up and into the van at 4:00 am, we could eat breakfast on the way and we would still make it for the Tuesday morning session. No biggie.

All of our efforts as a family on Monday went towards packing ourselves up for the week - no small task for a family of eight!  The blazing heat further complicated things.  Jeff called to confirm when the van would be finished, and hitched a ride to town with a neighbor while we worked away at home.  We had all the kids' clothes packed into their suitcase when Jeff called with the disappointing news - they had broken another part in the van, and it wouldn't be ready until the next morning.  They provided Jeff with a loaner vehicle for the night, but we couldn't take that on vacation with us because they needed it back in the morning when our van was done.  By the time we were able to get the van home and packed, we wouldn't have been able to make it to family camp until supper time on Tuesday, at best.  Which would mean we would have missed almost half of the sessions.  And we had no guarantees at that point that our van would even be finished by then.  So we made the difficult decision of cancelling our trip to family camp this year.

Our kids were all disappointed, but my two most sensitive children took it the worst.  They sobbed and sobbed, and while I normally am quick to lose patience with them, I felt overwhelming grace to be compassionate.  I was drawn into their suffering because I was sharing it - I felt sad over this loss too.  And while I am often tempted (and often tell them) to just get beyond it, I knew the Lord wanted us to stay in it, and so we did.  The overwhelming theme of my life these days has been to lay it down - everything I have, the things I hold most dear, the things that bring me comfort, the Lord is gently but firmly asking for those things. I wanted so badly to be able to say to my kids, "We'll go anyway, we'll find a way".  And yet, I knew the Lord wanted them to feel this loss too, and that He wanted to be the one to satisfy them.  And there was nothing for me to do but experience it with them.

We sat around the table for supper that evening, and I lead the kids in a spontaneous prayer (something about asking the Lord to be close to us, and to help us understand what He is asking of us) which normally causes the kids' eyes to glaze over.  But not this time - they were all so earnest.  And then my four-year-old daughter did something I've never heard her do before.  She said, "And please Lord, let us go to family camp next week."  She talked directly to God all by herself.  Her eyes were closed, and I knew it was coming right from her heart.  I also know we can't go to family camp next week, but I didn't bother to correct her.  I figure that's between her and God.  And that's when I realized that maybe losing something so dear to you isn't the worst thing in the world, if it causes you reach out to God.

Our van ended up being ready at 9:00 am this morning, which left me further conflicted. For a moment, I thought maybe we could pull it together enough to salvage the rest of the week.  But we had both prayed for the Lord's will to be apparent, and I can't accept the string of events leading up to today as anything but the Lord's gentle hand.  And so, with heavy hearts, we are making the best of our time at home.  We've made no new plans (though the thought crossed our minds) but have decided instead to take this week one day at a time, being attentive to our children and the opportunities that are before us each day.

Some people pray so hard to know the Lord's will in their lives, that He would just "give them a sign".  I am so grateful for the ways God reaches into my life, even when it is to ask something so dear of me.  Sometimes we cling so desperately to the things we want. Help us instead Lord to cling desperately to Your will.

Stay-cation's not so bad

To see Your face

These past few months have been some of the most challenging in my journey as a parent.  I have struggled with feeling completely worn out, and lived through some of the worst personal days I have ever had.  Struggling between knowing the Lord is present in every moment and really seeing Him there - between the knowledge in my head and the conviction in my heart.  And it felt like while the former was there, the latter most certainly was lacking.

These past few days have been such a blessing.  I feel like the Holy Spirit has breathed new life into me.  Thanks to my wonderful husband we made a family trip for confession last weekend, and it was a turning point for me.  The priest I went to asked questions, the first time that's ever happened to me in confession.  As I poured out my heart he picked up on the things I was struggling with, and I really felt the Lord working through His servant.  My penance was Psalm 62:

For God alone my soul waits in silence; from him comes my salvation. He only is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be greatly moved. How long will you set upon a man to shatter him, all of you, like a leaning wall, a tottering fence? They only plan to thrust him down from his eminence. They take pleasure in falsehood. They bless with their mouths, but inwardly they curse. [Selah] For God alone my soul waits in silence, for my hope is from him. He only is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be shaken. On God rests my deliverance and my honor; my mighty rock, my refuge is God. Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your heart before him; God is a refuge for us. [Selah] Men of low estate are but a breath, men of high estate are a delusion; in the balances they go up; they are together lighter than a breath. Put no confidence in extortion, set no vain hopes on robbery; if riches increase, set not your heart on them. Once God has spoken; twice have I heard this: that power belongs to God; and that to thee, O Lord, belongs steadfast love. For thou dost requite a man according to his work.    

Last night Jeff was sharing with me how a reading he had done recently has caused him to think about what it really means to see the face of Jesus.  How do we even know what that means?  How do we come to a place where we truly desire that?  It really stuck with me.

If I look at the way I'm living now, especially these last few months, it's very evident that I don't see His face before mine.  And I think that I want to - I know that I do.   But I don't live that way.  My trials, they break me.  They cause me to despair.  That's not how someone deeply focused on the Lord lives.  That's how someone deeply focused on their trials lives.

This morning as I continued to mull this over in my head, a thought occurred to me - it must be through our relationships that we see the face of Jesus.  The people around us, how we treat them, affects how (and whether) we are able to see Him.  How we love them.  Too often lately I have not been loving with my kids. Being spread so thin I have been short-tempered, and snappy, thinking about how this little struggle or that little struggle is affecting me, rather than approaching them with love and compassion, and objectivity.  I snap, I send them off, and I sulk. "Where are you God?  I'm trying!"  But I'm not.  And the evidence is the unhappy children, and the lack of peace in my heart.

Today I tried instead to be compassionate with the kids. I tried to understand that two-year-olds throw tantrums and get into everything at the most inopportune times.  I tried to understand that four-year-old girls can be very (very) emotional.  I tried to understand that five-, seven- and nine-year-old boys don't always do things the first time you ask (or the second, or third).  And I tried to remind myself that in each of them, Jesus is there.  Not off in the distance, a spectator to my daily trials.  In them, in these children who so desperately need a mother who is patient, who teaches instead of reprimands, who shows the face of Jesus to them.  And today, I felt more like myself than I have in a long time.  I felt connected with them, even when they were misbehaving (which, to be honest, is not nearly as often as I tend to think when I am feeling down).  To love when they are being good, that's easy.  But to love when they are needy, and desperate for direction, so vulnerable - wow, that brings it to a whole new level.

I read something this evening that talked about the scripture where Jesus was surrounded by a crowd of people, and still felt the tug of the hemorrhaging woman.  When we feel like we're spread thin, pulled in a million different direction with so many people needing us at once - He knows how we're feeling.  He's been there.  We can turn to Him.  And by sacrificing ourselves and looking instead to love those in need, we find the strength and the grace to rise about our own selfishness (which is really the only obstacle to the peace we so desire).  We see His face, that face we so desperately look for.

 

O my dove, in the clefts of the rock,

    in the covert of the cliff,

let me see your face,

    let me hear your voice,

for your voice is sweet,

    and your face is comely.

(Song of Solomon 2:14)

Day Off

Jeff and I have just wrapped up a crazy two months in our household that was a delightful mix of crazy, exciting, fun times (day trips, concerts, birthdays, first communions, showers, bachelor and bachelorette parties, and WEDDINGS!) and extremely trying times (a stomach flu, colds, some other weird bug that resulted in severe stomach cramps, and a month straight of plugged milk ducts and milk blisters - ouch!)  Ballet and piano have both finished, Cubs and Beavers are winding down, and we are basking in the glow of a very full, very busy, very fun, very exhausting time in our life. A life busting at the seams with goodness.

Today, we have nothing else to do but catch our breath.  And so, I have deemed it a day off.  I told the kids that it's my day off from crying and tantrums, and that if they want to do either they must do so away from me (because it's my day off). In return I've given them the day off from shouting, and so no matter how angry, frustrated or exasperated I feel, I may not yell at them (because it's their day off).

I can hear the chuckles now, but I assure you, things are going exceptionally well.  Tantrums are not a problem with the bigger kids but the little ones - phew - let's just say they're feeling the effects of the past couple of months as much as I am.  So as soon as they start into one of those behaviors, I calmly remind them that it's my day off.  I tell them I'm not going to yell at them (too often my default reaction under these circumstances) and calmly place them somewhere until they are done.  And we are all reaping the benefits.

A day off energizes you, helps you take a breath and refocus.  For me, just having some way to acknowledge the situation before it escalates out of control, some small intervention to keep me away from that ledge, works wonders.  I think God is like this in our lives.  Too often we are so wound up, too far gone to notice that gentle, firm coaxing - I'm here. God is never far away, we just have to train ourselves to look for Him before we've lost control.  This is my biggest challenge these days, and I think, the biggest blessing of a life bursting at the seams. Only when I am so spread thin am I completely aware of my inability to make it through this life on my own merits.  Trying only furthers the point of how completely incapable I am on my own, because I'm not meant to do this alone.  God is always there, in plain sight, offering the day off I so desperately desire to get my bearings about me once more.  Not the day off from the kids, or from family life.  Just those things that make things infinitely more trying - the crying, the nagging, the incessant whining.  Things I'm finding, all too often I create in my children.

Let it begin and end with me Lord.  In searching for you, may I transfer the burden of my happiness from their little shoulders to Your loving arms, that are so ready and waiting to meet my every desire.