When I came into the Church I went through a radical conversion. The majority of who I was and what I had done for most of my life made me cringe, and I thought, "I am so glad that I am not THAT person anymore." I got rid of everything that reminded me of who I used to be and promptly created a bubble around myself. I breathed a sigh of relief thinking that my cringe-worthy behavior was over and I wouldn't have to deal with any of that again. Little did I know that 11 years later I would be cringing again. This time because of who I became within my bubble.
I entered into my bubble with a heart bursting with love. Love for Jesus. Love for my new found Catholic faith. Love for all of His creation and a profound gratefulness for His mercy. I was on fire for the faith. Unfortunately, over time the love in my bubble was smothered by fear and pride. Instead of a beautiful sanctuary, it became a fortress keeping everyone and everything out for fear of contamination. I saw evil in everything and was in constant fear of unintentionally opening a door to the devil. The joy was gone and I began searching desperately for the love that was lost. I was beginning to despair and lose my faith. Finally, it became clear that my bubble needed to be popped.
So I popped my bubble. I popped it, and our family emerged from a place filled with fear and began to rebuild. My heart needed to get back to the place it was in when we began this journey. I felt like I had climbed a mountain just to get halfway up and jump off. I was confused. I questioned everything. Was I going crazy? Was this really what God wanted for us? The answers were made very clear. In my bubble, I had run up the mountain the first time. Pridefully pushing people out of my way in my zeal. Finally I reached a point where I was the recipient of all that I had been dishing out. It hurt very badly, but I needed to feel this. I needed to feel the rejection. I needed to feel what I had done to others. It sparked a flame of compassion in me, and brought to light the need for my own repentance. I needed to go through all of this so that I could start over. This time not trying desperately to bubble up and keep others out, but rather trying desperately to hold onto the love in my heart so that others might see it and want to come with me. I am going more slowly and carefully this time, because I am sure I haven't learned nearly as much as I think I have. The only thing I can say with certainty is that I am never going to be done making myself cringe, and I think that the humility that comes along with making yourself cringe is not necessarily a bad thing. In fact, this whole post already makes me cringe.
Showing posts with label conversion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label conversion. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 4, 2015
Monday, May 19, 2014
My Journey with NFP
I entered the RCIA with full intentions of becoming a Cafeteria Catholic. I had never heard of the term before, and of course I had no clue there might be something less than ideal about this, but that is exactly what my intentions were. The master plan was to become Catholic and pick and choose to believe what I thought made sense. Something unexpected happened though. Everything made sense. Everything. It was the richest, deepest, most perfectly logical theology I had ever learned. Not that I had a large background in theology. I had spent most of my Sunday school days and confirmation classes passing notes and goofing off. But the teachings of the Catholic Church were so beautiful and made so much sense they just completely penetrated my heart and soul. I became like a sponge soaking everything, and always thirsting for more.
A little over halfway through the year the catechists started tackling the some of the more controversial teachings of the Church. My husband and I had entered the RCIA as a contracepting couple. I had absolutely no clue that there was anything wrong with this. No clue. Not even a smidge of a clue. I had no recollection whatsoever of any hint of this teaching being presented in our pre cana classes. I am certain none of my fellow teachers shed light on my lack of knowledge about this topic while we chatted in the teacher's lounge of the Catholic school I taught in. This was the first time I had ever heard that in the eyes of the Church contraception was wrong. Lucky for me God's timing is always perfect. Lucky, because we were in the process of trying to conceive our second child by the time this class took place. This made hearing this news significantly easier to accept and to at least be open enough to learn a little bit more about why the Church's teaching is what it is.
So when the lead catechist asked us during a private meeting if we would be willing to accept this teaching and give NFP a try, my husband and I looked at one another, shrugged our shoulders, and said, "Sure, why not?" Learning NFP was not at all difficult for me. In fact, I was already practicing it, without calling it NFP, while trying to conceive. I had also used it when trying to conceive our first child. I already knew all about taking temperatures, being aware of changes in mucous, ovulation strips, the luteal phase, etc. None of it was new. I knew from living my secular lifestyle that using these signs was the quickest way to find yourself staring at a positive pregnancy test. What I had never heard of was using these same signs to avoid a pregnancy, but it didn't matter to me. We were months into a six month wait to conceive our son and wanting to avoid a pregnancy was the last thing on our minds. We fully embraced NFP and learned all that we could, committing fully to the teachings of Holy Mother Church.
I'm not going to lie. NFP was not quite so beautiful after our second child was born. It was time to test the effectiveness of NFP when trying to avoid pregnancy. It was scary. It was difficult. It was not fun. But we did it. We did it and it was the right thing to do, and THAT made it worth it. The obedience and trust in God's will for our family did bring us closer together and it did eventually bring with it, beauty. NFP does not come without sacrifice. It is often mocked by the secular world and glossed over by the Catholic world. Sorry to all of you ob/gyn's who roll your eyes at me and make snarky comments about how ineffective it is, you're wrong. It is very effective when used correctly. But it's not all roses like so many in the Catholic world proclaim either. Throughout my ten years of NFP I've liked it, hated it, and am currently starting to fall in love with it and see a little more depth into its' beauty.
Our first child was breech. I chose an elective c-section. At that time the risk of too much scar tissue and a ruptured uterus in future pregnancies was not even on my radar. However, after my second c-section my biggest fear became the chance of a doctor telling me (somewhere down the road) that it would not be safe to have anymore children. This was my biggest fear, because I could not imagine having to use NFP for the rest of my fertile years. I loved using NFP for achieving pregnancy, but hated using it for avoiding. Every pregnancy I feared the doctor declaring, "This scar tissue is out of control," but instead, every pregnancy the incision would be made and I would hear, "Wow, your uterus looks great! Very little scar tissue, for all the c-sections you've had!" So I was feeling pretty confident that we might actually make it through the fertile years without having to endure years and years of NFP. I was wrong though.
Very often our plans are not the same as God's plan. We lost our third child 20 weeks into the pregnancy. This made future pregnancies for me a time of extreme emotional stress. My last two pregnancies have been spent in a constant state of panic and fear that the baby will die. In addition I've dealt with gestational diabetes and cholestasis of pregnancy (which carries with it an increasing risk of death to the baby the further along the pregnancy progresses). So while many moms worry about losing a baby in the first trimester, it doesn't end there for me. I have an overwhelming and often debilitating fear of losing the baby until it is safely delivered and in my arms. Telling myself to trust in God doesn't exactly help either, because I know that sometimes His plan hurts like hell, and even though I can rattle off a list of ways He brought good out of our loss, I never want to feel that pain again. In essence, during pregnancy I am petrified of what God's plan might entail. All of this makes my pregnancies difficult, not only for me, but especially for the rest of my family. So near the end of my last pregnancy and at the height of my cholestasis when my husband hinted that we should probably not do this again, I was completely devastated. I was mad. I was hurt. I could not believe it. I decided not to say anything and I assumed that after the baby was born and things returned to normal he'd be ready to continue filling our house with little ones.
But, in the weeks that followed delivery, I began to face the fact that he was right. My heart rate was in the lower 40s for weeks after my surgery and though there was concern, no one could explain it. The doctors shrugged it off as some sort of reaction to the anesthetic and sent me home. I would lay in bed and hear this slow creepy throb pounding in my head, "Thump......................................................................thump........................................................................thump." Now I was scared in a new way. I remember laying in bed, hearing that throb, scared that something was seriously wrong, wondering when/if it was going to get back to normal. Wondering who would take care of my babies if it DIDN'T get back to normal and something happened. I admitted to myself that my husband was right. I admitted that maybe God was not calling us to have as many babies as possible. Maybe He was calling me out on my prideful motives for wanting more babies. All my friends have loads of babies. It's like a badge of honor, and I wanted to continue wearing that badge. I knew some moms who looked forward to a day when God would give them a break between pregnancies, but I'd spent many months waiting for God to give me babies, and then even had Him take one away after the waiting. Having a full womb was never a cross for me. Ever. It was then that I realized that God may be calling me to a different kind of cross. While my friend's wombs continued to expand with new life, mine would remain empty. Laying there, sobbing, I made the most painful promise to God that I have ever made. I promised Him that if He just allowed my heartrate to go back to normal, than I would not try to have any more babies. I would not selfishly be with my husband whenever I wanted. I would use NFP. BLAH!
I very much wanted to keep having babies. I felt like God was smacking me in the face, telling me I didn't make the cut as a "mother of many." It was very hard. I don't remember how many weeks I cried, but it was a long time. To top it all off, this meant NFP for the rest of my fertile years. Not because a doctor had said my uterus couldn't handle another pregnancy, but because in prayer, I had discerned that GOD had said that I could not handle another baby. Even worse.
I've never hated NFP more than the I did during the first two years post partum after that last pregnancy. I was miserable, and the intimacy within our marriage suffered badly. I felt like there was no point in our embrace anymore if it would never again result in new life. I knew that even if my body could handle another pregnancy, that mentally I couldn't, and this made me mad. I couldn't imagine taking care of my current children and going through another pregnancy. "No wonder God doesn't want me to have any more babies," I would tell myself. Those words stung and even as I was saying them, the question was always in the back of my mind, "What if you made a mistake, and He IS calling you to more babies, and you are throwing away your fertile years?" This, I believe, is where my true frustration and fear came from.
It wasn't the NFP. It wasn't that I probably wouldn't get to be pregnant again. It was a fear that we may have messed up in discerning His will for us. That is what was causing the misery. I have learned this in the last year. The further away from the "scary" pregnancies we have gotten, the more loosely we have followed the NFP rules. NFP is extremely effective...if you follow the rules. Not so much so, if you smudge the rules a bit. So, in the last year, there have been a handful of times when He has definitely had His chance to gift us with another child, and He has not. Each time this happens I go through the same emotions. First, panic, followed by hopeful excitement, and ending with a somewhat sorrowful, somewhat relieved, peaceful confirmation that He indeed is not calling us to another pregnancy at this time.
The most recent incident was a little over a month ago. We do not use the most conservative rules for the beginning of the cycle and usually do not cut off relations until after day 8. This is risky, because you can always ovulate earlier than usual, which is exactly what happened during this cycle. I ovulated on day 12, which has never happened in all of my days of charting. As soon as I realized what was happening I went through my little stages of panic, etc. I was more excited than ever though this time, because it was so very clearly in God's hands. Other times we have been selfish and given into temptation to cause the possibility, but this time, I really felt it was in His hands completely since I can't MAKE myself ovulate early. Wow, maybe I CAN have another baby! The fear of pregnancy problems melted away because of the NFP, because I knew this was not Him giving into OUR WANTS, but something HE was specifically arranging by having that egg drop earlier than usual. I started looking at baby names. I started peeing on the strips at 8 days past ovulation. My temp stayed high. Negative tests did not deter my excitement, I knew it was WAAAY to early. Then came Easter Sunday. I woke up. My temp had dropped, and I thought, "Empty tomb, empty womb." I wasn't pregnant. That old voice telling me I'm not good enough came sneaking in, but this time it was stomped out by a new voice. A new confirming voice reminding me that God calls families of all sizes. A voice telling me what a gift NFP is because it is cycles like this that help us to continue to discern His will for us. He gifts me with cycles like this, not to crush my hopes, but to reassure me that we are following His will for us. So for the first time ever, filled with peace and more confidence in discerning His will, I am beginning to see glimpses of the fruits and rosiness proclaimed in all the Catholic promotions of NFP as a marriage builder, and I'm kinda starting to fall in love with it!
NFP Methods/Resources:
My favorite Method
My Top Pick for Post-Partum, Before Cycles Return
Most of the Ladies I Know Use This Method
Another Option
My Favorite Place to Chart This one is not an NFP site, but I have been charting there since before conversion when I was trying to concieve our first child. It is not meant to be used to avoid pregnancy, but I still use it to chart.
Info from the USCCB
A little over halfway through the year the catechists started tackling the some of the more controversial teachings of the Church. My husband and I had entered the RCIA as a contracepting couple. I had absolutely no clue that there was anything wrong with this. No clue. Not even a smidge of a clue. I had no recollection whatsoever of any hint of this teaching being presented in our pre cana classes. I am certain none of my fellow teachers shed light on my lack of knowledge about this topic while we chatted in the teacher's lounge of the Catholic school I taught in. This was the first time I had ever heard that in the eyes of the Church contraception was wrong. Lucky for me God's timing is always perfect. Lucky, because we were in the process of trying to conceive our second child by the time this class took place. This made hearing this news significantly easier to accept and to at least be open enough to learn a little bit more about why the Church's teaching is what it is.
So when the lead catechist asked us during a private meeting if we would be willing to accept this teaching and give NFP a try, my husband and I looked at one another, shrugged our shoulders, and said, "Sure, why not?" Learning NFP was not at all difficult for me. In fact, I was already practicing it, without calling it NFP, while trying to conceive. I had also used it when trying to conceive our first child. I already knew all about taking temperatures, being aware of changes in mucous, ovulation strips, the luteal phase, etc. None of it was new. I knew from living my secular lifestyle that using these signs was the quickest way to find yourself staring at a positive pregnancy test. What I had never heard of was using these same signs to avoid a pregnancy, but it didn't matter to me. We were months into a six month wait to conceive our son and wanting to avoid a pregnancy was the last thing on our minds. We fully embraced NFP and learned all that we could, committing fully to the teachings of Holy Mother Church.
I'm not going to lie. NFP was not quite so beautiful after our second child was born. It was time to test the effectiveness of NFP when trying to avoid pregnancy. It was scary. It was difficult. It was not fun. But we did it. We did it and it was the right thing to do, and THAT made it worth it. The obedience and trust in God's will for our family did bring us closer together and it did eventually bring with it, beauty. NFP does not come without sacrifice. It is often mocked by the secular world and glossed over by the Catholic world. Sorry to all of you ob/gyn's who roll your eyes at me and make snarky comments about how ineffective it is, you're wrong. It is very effective when used correctly. But it's not all roses like so many in the Catholic world proclaim either. Throughout my ten years of NFP I've liked it, hated it, and am currently starting to fall in love with it and see a little more depth into its' beauty.
Our first child was breech. I chose an elective c-section. At that time the risk of too much scar tissue and a ruptured uterus in future pregnancies was not even on my radar. However, after my second c-section my biggest fear became the chance of a doctor telling me (somewhere down the road) that it would not be safe to have anymore children. This was my biggest fear, because I could not imagine having to use NFP for the rest of my fertile years. I loved using NFP for achieving pregnancy, but hated using it for avoiding. Every pregnancy I feared the doctor declaring, "This scar tissue is out of control," but instead, every pregnancy the incision would be made and I would hear, "Wow, your uterus looks great! Very little scar tissue, for all the c-sections you've had!" So I was feeling pretty confident that we might actually make it through the fertile years without having to endure years and years of NFP. I was wrong though.
Very often our plans are not the same as God's plan. We lost our third child 20 weeks into the pregnancy. This made future pregnancies for me a time of extreme emotional stress. My last two pregnancies have been spent in a constant state of panic and fear that the baby will die. In addition I've dealt with gestational diabetes and cholestasis of pregnancy (which carries with it an increasing risk of death to the baby the further along the pregnancy progresses). So while many moms worry about losing a baby in the first trimester, it doesn't end there for me. I have an overwhelming and often debilitating fear of losing the baby until it is safely delivered and in my arms. Telling myself to trust in God doesn't exactly help either, because I know that sometimes His plan hurts like hell, and even though I can rattle off a list of ways He brought good out of our loss, I never want to feel that pain again. In essence, during pregnancy I am petrified of what God's plan might entail. All of this makes my pregnancies difficult, not only for me, but especially for the rest of my family. So near the end of my last pregnancy and at the height of my cholestasis when my husband hinted that we should probably not do this again, I was completely devastated. I was mad. I was hurt. I could not believe it. I decided not to say anything and I assumed that after the baby was born and things returned to normal he'd be ready to continue filling our house with little ones.
But, in the weeks that followed delivery, I began to face the fact that he was right. My heart rate was in the lower 40s for weeks after my surgery and though there was concern, no one could explain it. The doctors shrugged it off as some sort of reaction to the anesthetic and sent me home. I would lay in bed and hear this slow creepy throb pounding in my head, "Thump......................................................................thump........................................................................thump." Now I was scared in a new way. I remember laying in bed, hearing that throb, scared that something was seriously wrong, wondering when/if it was going to get back to normal. Wondering who would take care of my babies if it DIDN'T get back to normal and something happened. I admitted to myself that my husband was right. I admitted that maybe God was not calling us to have as many babies as possible. Maybe He was calling me out on my prideful motives for wanting more babies. All my friends have loads of babies. It's like a badge of honor, and I wanted to continue wearing that badge. I knew some moms who looked forward to a day when God would give them a break between pregnancies, but I'd spent many months waiting for God to give me babies, and then even had Him take one away after the waiting. Having a full womb was never a cross for me. Ever. It was then that I realized that God may be calling me to a different kind of cross. While my friend's wombs continued to expand with new life, mine would remain empty. Laying there, sobbing, I made the most painful promise to God that I have ever made. I promised Him that if He just allowed my heartrate to go back to normal, than I would not try to have any more babies. I would not selfishly be with my husband whenever I wanted. I would use NFP. BLAH!
I very much wanted to keep having babies. I felt like God was smacking me in the face, telling me I didn't make the cut as a "mother of many." It was very hard. I don't remember how many weeks I cried, but it was a long time. To top it all off, this meant NFP for the rest of my fertile years. Not because a doctor had said my uterus couldn't handle another pregnancy, but because in prayer, I had discerned that GOD had said that I could not handle another baby. Even worse.
I've never hated NFP more than the I did during the first two years post partum after that last pregnancy. I was miserable, and the intimacy within our marriage suffered badly. I felt like there was no point in our embrace anymore if it would never again result in new life. I knew that even if my body could handle another pregnancy, that mentally I couldn't, and this made me mad. I couldn't imagine taking care of my current children and going through another pregnancy. "No wonder God doesn't want me to have any more babies," I would tell myself. Those words stung and even as I was saying them, the question was always in the back of my mind, "What if you made a mistake, and He IS calling you to more babies, and you are throwing away your fertile years?" This, I believe, is where my true frustration and fear came from.
It wasn't the NFP. It wasn't that I probably wouldn't get to be pregnant again. It was a fear that we may have messed up in discerning His will for us. That is what was causing the misery. I have learned this in the last year. The further away from the "scary" pregnancies we have gotten, the more loosely we have followed the NFP rules. NFP is extremely effective...if you follow the rules. Not so much so, if you smudge the rules a bit. So, in the last year, there have been a handful of times when He has definitely had His chance to gift us with another child, and He has not. Each time this happens I go through the same emotions. First, panic, followed by hopeful excitement, and ending with a somewhat sorrowful, somewhat relieved, peaceful confirmation that He indeed is not calling us to another pregnancy at this time.
The most recent incident was a little over a month ago. We do not use the most conservative rules for the beginning of the cycle and usually do not cut off relations until after day 8. This is risky, because you can always ovulate earlier than usual, which is exactly what happened during this cycle. I ovulated on day 12, which has never happened in all of my days of charting. As soon as I realized what was happening I went through my little stages of panic, etc. I was more excited than ever though this time, because it was so very clearly in God's hands. Other times we have been selfish and given into temptation to cause the possibility, but this time, I really felt it was in His hands completely since I can't MAKE myself ovulate early. Wow, maybe I CAN have another baby! The fear of pregnancy problems melted away because of the NFP, because I knew this was not Him giving into OUR WANTS, but something HE was specifically arranging by having that egg drop earlier than usual. I started looking at baby names. I started peeing on the strips at 8 days past ovulation. My temp stayed high. Negative tests did not deter my excitement, I knew it was WAAAY to early. Then came Easter Sunday. I woke up. My temp had dropped, and I thought, "Empty tomb, empty womb." I wasn't pregnant. That old voice telling me I'm not good enough came sneaking in, but this time it was stomped out by a new voice. A new confirming voice reminding me that God calls families of all sizes. A voice telling me what a gift NFP is because it is cycles like this that help us to continue to discern His will for us. He gifts me with cycles like this, not to crush my hopes, but to reassure me that we are following His will for us. So for the first time ever, filled with peace and more confidence in discerning His will, I am beginning to see glimpses of the fruits and rosiness proclaimed in all the Catholic promotions of NFP as a marriage builder, and I'm kinda starting to fall in love with it!
NFP Methods/Resources:
My favorite Method
My Top Pick for Post-Partum, Before Cycles Return
Most of the Ladies I Know Use This Method
Another Option
My Favorite Place to Chart This one is not an NFP site, but I have been charting there since before conversion when I was trying to concieve our first child. It is not meant to be used to avoid pregnancy, but I still use it to chart.
Info from the USCCB
Saturday, September 21, 2013
Rediscovering the Love
I wrote this awhile ago and have not published it, because, well, it bares all, and that is hard. I keep coming back to it though, and some of the recent comments made by Pope Francis during an interview speak so loudly to me on this issue. Many of his words deeply touched my soul and instilled in me an even greater desire for a stronger conversion in love and compassion. Like our Holy Father, I stand firmly with Holy Mother Church and embrace all that She teaches, but my approach to living out the faith and sharing it with others is in desperate need of change. My Papa is speaking and I am trying to listen.
When I came into the Church I was attracted to the love. I witnessed a love in people that I had never seen before. It was so intense that at first I thought it was fake. There was a woman at my RCIA classes, who was overflowing with the love of Jesus. Her eyes were shining with His love. She gave her testimony one night, speaking of her love not only for Jesus, but also for His mother. I had never before heard anyone speak about God in the way she spoke, filled with so much emotion and love. I was intrigued by her, but highly skeptical. On the way home, I decided it was time to call the bluff. I shared my suspicions with my husband, telling him that I really didn't think anyone actually LOVED Jesus like THAT. His response was silence. I continued, "I mean, YOU don't love Him like that, do you?" His reply was soft. He nodded and whispered, "Yeah, I do." I can pinpoint that exact moment as one of the most pivotal moments of my conversion. It was the moment when I realized I was missing something hugely essential in my life. I began taking my RCIA classes much more seriously. I listened when the lead catechist advised us to "pray for a desire to love Him." I listened and began doing everything she suggested. I prayed, I opened my heart, and He poured Himself in. After a few months I knew first hand that the woman with love in her eyes was 100% sincere, and I was completely amazed at what God had done in my own heart in following the advice of the lead catechist. I am forever grateful for the witness both of these women gave me as I was coming into the Church.
I am also thankful for the warm welcome I received not only after my conversion and during my conversion, but most importantly before my conversion. I had been in plenty of Catholic churches pre-conversion and always felt like I didn't belong, like I wasn't welcome. I felt ashamed of who I was, not because I realized all the things I was doing that were against Church Teaching (I had no clue), but because I got the feeling that I was not welcome there simply because I was not Catholic/different. I felt like this in every single Catholic church I had been in, with the exception of the one in which I eventually ended up receiving my first Sacraments in. No one gave me a sour look when I remained in my pew at Holy Communion. People smiled at me, even though I fumbled through most of the Catholic gestures of the Mass. People were welcoming. To top it off I went to the mail box one afternoon and found a card addressed to me. It was an invitation to check out the RCIA. An invitation sent out to all the non-Catholic spouses in the parish. Wow, not only did they not dislike me because I wasn't Catholic, they actually WANTED me to consider joining them in their faith. I took the bait, and here I am!
At first the same love that attracted me to the faith, filled my own heart, and I wanted to share. Unfortunately, as time went on my faith sharing transformed from "I'm telling you this because I love you, and want you to experience what I am experiencing (God's love)" to "if you aren't practicing the Catholic faith in the way that I think you should be, than I am not going to hang around you." I began to think of my little circle of friends as "the ones who had it", and forgot about where I had come from. I didn't take the time to remember all the warmth given to me in those welcoming smiles. Smiles freely given in His love, even though they knew I was breaking so many rules. They had patience with me and waited for Him to change my heart. We are blessed to belong to a very, very, solid parish, and I would venture to guess that the majority of the parishioners there are daily striving to follow every single teaching of Holy Mother Church to the best of their ability. We are also blessed with a group of friends outside of our parish community who do the same. All of this made it fairly easy for me to cut ties with most of my "outside of Church" connections. Everything worked well for quite a few years. The problem reared its ugly head when I couldn't live up to my own standards. When I started asking more out of myself than even God, Himself, was asking. I had forgotten that He is not asking me to be perfect. What He IS asking for is permission to perfect me Himself. I had forgotten that all I need to do is open my heart, and HE will do the work. All I could see was my sinfulness and an illusion of perfection in all those surrounding me. I had forgotten that we are ALL sinners, and began to believe I was the only sinner in the midst of holy perfection.
It took hitting rock bottom spiritually for me to be awakened to this monster that my own pride had created. I was in despair. I found myself on the verge of throwing in the towel, spiritually. The devil constantly whispered in my ear, "You're not going to make it." "Who are YOU trying to be?" "You aren't going to make it, you are going to hell." Why was I entertaining this conversation? Well, let's see. At the time I thought I was failing because I wasn't doing all the "super holy" things I had done in the past. I wasn't going to daily Mass anymore (by the way there is nothing better than daily Mass, but I just can't manage it right now). I was very frequently skipping my daily rosary. I wasn't "feeling" it. This went on until I one day last fall when I entered the church where I had received my first Confession. Upon entering the church I experienced the most wonderful thing. I was immersed in that feeling of love that I had been missing for so long. It hit me in a powerful way and I was so saddened because I had not felt it in so long, and it brought back so many wonderful memories of my conversion. I went to Confession there and was reminded that our faith is not about completing a checklist of daily devotions, but rather praying with our whole heart. One really, really well prayed rosary is much better than a half-hearted daily rosary prayed just to check it off the list. I have held these words in my heart for almost a year now. What those words have done for me is remind me of why I started praying the rosary in the first place. Out of love. I knew it was pleasing to Our Lord and His Mother, and I wanted to do it for that reason. What my devotion developed into was one not out of love, but out of fear. I began to fear that if I didn't pray that rosary, I was not going to make it. After my confession experience I slowly began to find glimpses of joy in praying that rosary again. I no longer had this huge weight of guilt and fear on my shoulders. I was doing it out of love again, not out of a fear of going to hell if I didn't.
I also began to see clearly just how toxic my expectations for myself and those around me were. I desperately longed for those early days of my conversion when I felt joy and love in my heart, rather than fear, shame, and disappointment. I knew something was missing, but I couldn't figure out what. I went back through my memories of those early days and asked myself what was different. What did I have then, that I don't have now? The first response was love. The fire of love in my heart was gone. Fear had smothered it. The second was humility. When I entered the Church I knew I was a HUGE sinner, and guess what, I still felt loved. I felt so, so, so loved. I could lay in bed at night and literally feel God's love as I drifted off to sleep. I owned, and in a way embraced my sinfulness, because it made me dependent upon His great Mercy for me. I knew how much I needed Him and I appreciated all He had done, and was continuing to do, for me. I knew He loved me. As I grew in my faith, my pride grew with me. I began to believe that because I was still inclined to a large number of sins, that God did not love me anymore. I told myself I did not deserve His mercy, and He wouldn't want to give it to me anyway. Lies, piled upon lies, in my head.
The blinders are slowly being removed. I am once again rejoicing in His mercy and am much easier on myself. I have also spent a good deal of time thinking about how my expectations may have affected those around me. How many people who were lost did I send a warm smile to during those years? Not many. How many felt judged by me, even if I had no intentions of judging? Probably countless. How many times did people see me and think, "Wow, I should really check out the Catholic faith?" Zero. I was so consumed with reaching some unattainable level of holiness (on my own), that I forgot to reach out to myself, and to others, with that same warmth and love that brought me to Him in the first place. I forgot that the only thing I needed to do to start moving in the right direction is depend on Him, rather than myself to move me.
Following all the rules and devotions, means nothing without the love. I wanted everyone to be Catholic, but did not give anyone any reason to want to be Catholic. In a crowd of non-practicing Catholics you might find me sitting with a frown of discomfort on my face, because maybe someone might use the Lord's name in vain. Or maybe they might mention what contraceptive they were using. I was a crab. No one frowned at me or pouted around me when I was coming into the Church as a contracepting, Lord's name in vain using, big, fat, gigantic sinner. So why on earth was I not reaching out to people with the same love and patience I was shown? As the love returns to my heart I am finding a love growing for myself as well as for those who are not in that same little box as me. People already know where I stand on the issues of the Church. I no longer feel the need to shove it down their throats, or pout when they don't do back flips (like my heart did) when they hear the Good News. None of this is going to show them His love. They need what I needed (and still need), and that is simply to SEE HIS love.
I think Casting Crowns is on to something. This song is not saying that we should adopt an attitude of moral relativism, or that Jesus doesn't mind our sins as the title might suggest. Instead, it argues that we should live the faith showing His love to those who don't know Him, rather than closing our doors to them. Check out another powerful song from Casting Crowns . The message of being open to those who aren't exactly on the same page as us, is speaking so loudly to my heart. I was that girl, and I THANK GOD really, really, holy people reached out to me and allowed my ugly sinfulness into their presence. I have also been those who ignore the girl or even the woman who pulls her daughter closer to protect her from just walking past the girl. I am much more ashamed for having been the woman, than I am for having been the girl. Jesus, meek and humble of heart, make my heart like unto Thine. Fill me with your love so I can give it to others, in the same way it was given to me!
When I came into the Church I was attracted to the love. I witnessed a love in people that I had never seen before. It was so intense that at first I thought it was fake. There was a woman at my RCIA classes, who was overflowing with the love of Jesus. Her eyes were shining with His love. She gave her testimony one night, speaking of her love not only for Jesus, but also for His mother. I had never before heard anyone speak about God in the way she spoke, filled with so much emotion and love. I was intrigued by her, but highly skeptical. On the way home, I decided it was time to call the bluff. I shared my suspicions with my husband, telling him that I really didn't think anyone actually LOVED Jesus like THAT. His response was silence. I continued, "I mean, YOU don't love Him like that, do you?" His reply was soft. He nodded and whispered, "Yeah, I do." I can pinpoint that exact moment as one of the most pivotal moments of my conversion. It was the moment when I realized I was missing something hugely essential in my life. I began taking my RCIA classes much more seriously. I listened when the lead catechist advised us to "pray for a desire to love Him." I listened and began doing everything she suggested. I prayed, I opened my heart, and He poured Himself in. After a few months I knew first hand that the woman with love in her eyes was 100% sincere, and I was completely amazed at what God had done in my own heart in following the advice of the lead catechist. I am forever grateful for the witness both of these women gave me as I was coming into the Church.
I am also thankful for the warm welcome I received not only after my conversion and during my conversion, but most importantly before my conversion. I had been in plenty of Catholic churches pre-conversion and always felt like I didn't belong, like I wasn't welcome. I felt ashamed of who I was, not because I realized all the things I was doing that were against Church Teaching (I had no clue), but because I got the feeling that I was not welcome there simply because I was not Catholic/different. I felt like this in every single Catholic church I had been in, with the exception of the one in which I eventually ended up receiving my first Sacraments in. No one gave me a sour look when I remained in my pew at Holy Communion. People smiled at me, even though I fumbled through most of the Catholic gestures of the Mass. People were welcoming. To top it off I went to the mail box one afternoon and found a card addressed to me. It was an invitation to check out the RCIA. An invitation sent out to all the non-Catholic spouses in the parish. Wow, not only did they not dislike me because I wasn't Catholic, they actually WANTED me to consider joining them in their faith. I took the bait, and here I am!
At first the same love that attracted me to the faith, filled my own heart, and I wanted to share. Unfortunately, as time went on my faith sharing transformed from "I'm telling you this because I love you, and want you to experience what I am experiencing (God's love)" to "if you aren't practicing the Catholic faith in the way that I think you should be, than I am not going to hang around you." I began to think of my little circle of friends as "the ones who had it", and forgot about where I had come from. I didn't take the time to remember all the warmth given to me in those welcoming smiles. Smiles freely given in His love, even though they knew I was breaking so many rules. They had patience with me and waited for Him to change my heart. We are blessed to belong to a very, very, solid parish, and I would venture to guess that the majority of the parishioners there are daily striving to follow every single teaching of Holy Mother Church to the best of their ability. We are also blessed with a group of friends outside of our parish community who do the same. All of this made it fairly easy for me to cut ties with most of my "outside of Church" connections. Everything worked well for quite a few years. The problem reared its ugly head when I couldn't live up to my own standards. When I started asking more out of myself than even God, Himself, was asking. I had forgotten that He is not asking me to be perfect. What He IS asking for is permission to perfect me Himself. I had forgotten that all I need to do is open my heart, and HE will do the work. All I could see was my sinfulness and an illusion of perfection in all those surrounding me. I had forgotten that we are ALL sinners, and began to believe I was the only sinner in the midst of holy perfection.
It took hitting rock bottom spiritually for me to be awakened to this monster that my own pride had created. I was in despair. I found myself on the verge of throwing in the towel, spiritually. The devil constantly whispered in my ear, "You're not going to make it." "Who are YOU trying to be?" "You aren't going to make it, you are going to hell." Why was I entertaining this conversation? Well, let's see. At the time I thought I was failing because I wasn't doing all the "super holy" things I had done in the past. I wasn't going to daily Mass anymore (by the way there is nothing better than daily Mass, but I just can't manage it right now). I was very frequently skipping my daily rosary. I wasn't "feeling" it. This went on until I one day last fall when I entered the church where I had received my first Confession. Upon entering the church I experienced the most wonderful thing. I was immersed in that feeling of love that I had been missing for so long. It hit me in a powerful way and I was so saddened because I had not felt it in so long, and it brought back so many wonderful memories of my conversion. I went to Confession there and was reminded that our faith is not about completing a checklist of daily devotions, but rather praying with our whole heart. One really, really well prayed rosary is much better than a half-hearted daily rosary prayed just to check it off the list. I have held these words in my heart for almost a year now. What those words have done for me is remind me of why I started praying the rosary in the first place. Out of love. I knew it was pleasing to Our Lord and His Mother, and I wanted to do it for that reason. What my devotion developed into was one not out of love, but out of fear. I began to fear that if I didn't pray that rosary, I was not going to make it. After my confession experience I slowly began to find glimpses of joy in praying that rosary again. I no longer had this huge weight of guilt and fear on my shoulders. I was doing it out of love again, not out of a fear of going to hell if I didn't.
I also began to see clearly just how toxic my expectations for myself and those around me were. I desperately longed for those early days of my conversion when I felt joy and love in my heart, rather than fear, shame, and disappointment. I knew something was missing, but I couldn't figure out what. I went back through my memories of those early days and asked myself what was different. What did I have then, that I don't have now? The first response was love. The fire of love in my heart was gone. Fear had smothered it. The second was humility. When I entered the Church I knew I was a HUGE sinner, and guess what, I still felt loved. I felt so, so, so loved. I could lay in bed at night and literally feel God's love as I drifted off to sleep. I owned, and in a way embraced my sinfulness, because it made me dependent upon His great Mercy for me. I knew how much I needed Him and I appreciated all He had done, and was continuing to do, for me. I knew He loved me. As I grew in my faith, my pride grew with me. I began to believe that because I was still inclined to a large number of sins, that God did not love me anymore. I told myself I did not deserve His mercy, and He wouldn't want to give it to me anyway. Lies, piled upon lies, in my head.
The blinders are slowly being removed. I am once again rejoicing in His mercy and am much easier on myself. I have also spent a good deal of time thinking about how my expectations may have affected those around me. How many people who were lost did I send a warm smile to during those years? Not many. How many felt judged by me, even if I had no intentions of judging? Probably countless. How many times did people see me and think, "Wow, I should really check out the Catholic faith?" Zero. I was so consumed with reaching some unattainable level of holiness (on my own), that I forgot to reach out to myself, and to others, with that same warmth and love that brought me to Him in the first place. I forgot that the only thing I needed to do to start moving in the right direction is depend on Him, rather than myself to move me.
Following all the rules and devotions, means nothing without the love. I wanted everyone to be Catholic, but did not give anyone any reason to want to be Catholic. In a crowd of non-practicing Catholics you might find me sitting with a frown of discomfort on my face, because maybe someone might use the Lord's name in vain. Or maybe they might mention what contraceptive they were using. I was a crab. No one frowned at me or pouted around me when I was coming into the Church as a contracepting, Lord's name in vain using, big, fat, gigantic sinner. So why on earth was I not reaching out to people with the same love and patience I was shown? As the love returns to my heart I am finding a love growing for myself as well as for those who are not in that same little box as me. People already know where I stand on the issues of the Church. I no longer feel the need to shove it down their throats, or pout when they don't do back flips (like my heart did) when they hear the Good News. None of this is going to show them His love. They need what I needed (and still need), and that is simply to SEE HIS love.
I think Casting Crowns is on to something. This song is not saying that we should adopt an attitude of moral relativism, or that Jesus doesn't mind our sins as the title might suggest. Instead, it argues that we should live the faith showing His love to those who don't know Him, rather than closing our doors to them. Check out another powerful song from Casting Crowns . The message of being open to those who aren't exactly on the same page as us, is speaking so loudly to my heart. I was that girl, and I THANK GOD really, really, holy people reached out to me and allowed my ugly sinfulness into their presence. I have also been those who ignore the girl or even the woman who pulls her daughter closer to protect her from just walking past the girl. I am much more ashamed for having been the woman, than I am for having been the girl. Jesus, meek and humble of heart, make my heart like unto Thine. Fill me with your love so I can give it to others, in the same way it was given to me!
Monday, December 10, 2012
Game On!
Last night a friend mentioned reading one of my posts on here. "Oh yeah," I thought, "I have a blog." I started this blog after a confession when a priest told me to take the time to do something for myself. I can't say that I love to write, but I do find it therapeutic, so this blog is what I came up with. I am not exactly sure what my purpose of my blog is, but it has served as a good place for me to reflect on some of the things that dominate my crazy world, and I do find sorting those things out to help bring peace. I am also certain that some of the same struggles I go through, others have gone through, or know someone who has gone through, and it helps to know you are not alone. So here it is. It has been so long since I have even written anything, that I don't know where to even start. So you 1 or 2 people who happen to stumble upon this, can sit back and prepare for a ramble, I guess.
I got a little too personal in my last post and the thought of writing again made my stomach turn. Most likely because I was shining a giant spotlight on my own sins. Pride. It's lovely, isn't it? I am happy to report that all is still going well on THAT battlefront. Unfortunately the enemy has changed his tactic and is now attacking from another angle. I've been hit by the lazy bug. "Hit" may be too light of a word. Stampeded, is probably much more suitable. A few weeks ago my husband woke up one morning, looked up at the sun shining through our bedroom window, and said, "We're in a snow globe." It was a great joke around here for a few weeks. I tried desperately to make up for my weeks of neglect which had caused the "snow"storm to rear its' ugly head. Eventually I threw in the towel, or rather the dust rag, and decided the snow globe was actually quite beautiful. Or so I tried to convince myself.
So my gluttony has been traded in for sloth. As for all of my efforts in limiting my internet time by deactivating my facebook account...well, that worked very well, for a short time. You see, what comes with a change in dress size? New clothes. Online browsing/shopping is my latest internet addiction. With all of the great sales going on right now, it does make financial sense to buy what I really do need, for a discount. I am almost done. Just some dress pants, and I am good to go. So I am hoping that the fact that I am on to his little game, will help me to get back on track soon.
Praise God! Sloth and internet addiction: Prepare for battle!! After months of praying for help, today was the day He decided to step in and let the sun shine brightly in my soul. I am guessing His mother had something to do with this. Thanks, Mama! :) Today I am filled with energy, peace, and patience. The laundry is almost ALL done. Seriously, that does NOT happen in this house. The dishes are done. The kids had a great school day. The floor is swept. AND, the biggest hurdle of all...I am NOT freaking out and feeling overwhelmed by all the other areas of house keeping neglect that are proof of my sin. Game on! I am ready to tackle those sins, because the troops have arrived!
I got a little too personal in my last post and the thought of writing again made my stomach turn. Most likely because I was shining a giant spotlight on my own sins. Pride. It's lovely, isn't it? I am happy to report that all is still going well on THAT battlefront. Unfortunately the enemy has changed his tactic and is now attacking from another angle. I've been hit by the lazy bug. "Hit" may be too light of a word. Stampeded, is probably much more suitable. A few weeks ago my husband woke up one morning, looked up at the sun shining through our bedroom window, and said, "We're in a snow globe." It was a great joke around here for a few weeks. I tried desperately to make up for my weeks of neglect which had caused the "snow"storm to rear its' ugly head. Eventually I threw in the towel, or rather the dust rag, and decided the snow globe was actually quite beautiful. Or so I tried to convince myself.
So my gluttony has been traded in for sloth. As for all of my efforts in limiting my internet time by deactivating my facebook account...well, that worked very well, for a short time. You see, what comes with a change in dress size? New clothes. Online browsing/shopping is my latest internet addiction. With all of the great sales going on right now, it does make financial sense to buy what I really do need, for a discount. I am almost done. Just some dress pants, and I am good to go. So I am hoping that the fact that I am on to his little game, will help me to get back on track soon.
Praise God! Sloth and internet addiction: Prepare for battle!! After months of praying for help, today was the day He decided to step in and let the sun shine brightly in my soul. I am guessing His mother had something to do with this. Thanks, Mama! :) Today I am filled with energy, peace, and patience. The laundry is almost ALL done. Seriously, that does NOT happen in this house. The dishes are done. The kids had a great school day. The floor is swept. AND, the biggest hurdle of all...I am NOT freaking out and feeling overwhelmed by all the other areas of house keeping neglect that are proof of my sin. Game on! I am ready to tackle those sins, because the troops have arrived!
Monday, August 13, 2012
Facing My Own Addictions
A while back I wrote about my brother's drug addiction click here. Several people contacted me privately and commented on how they had never thought of the spiritual dimension of addiction that I proposed in the post. Well, I have a confession to make. The reason I "get" the ins and outs of his addiction is that I struggle with my own addictions. My whole analogy of the game the addict and the devil play, came not from me trying to figure out his problems, but first from looking at my own sins and trying to wrap my mind around what I continually keep allowing myself to go through.
Hello, my name is Little Catholic Mama, and I am addicted to eating too much (junk food in particular) and the computer (facebook in particular). The computer addiction is a little easier to deal with than the eating so I am going to focus on the eating in this post. After all, as St. Augustine said, "Complete abstinence is easier than perfect moderation,” and you HAVE to eat! As for facebook, I have simply deactivated my account!
I have gone up and down the scale with every pregnancy, birth, and in between, for the past 10 years. I realize this does not sound uncommon, and most likely to most people looking at me from the outside my addiction is not really that noticeable. After all, I have had 5 pregnancies in 10 years. Most women's body's DO change a lot during these years. However, anyone who has paid close attention will note that unlike most women, I LOSE the weight very quickly after pregnancy and GAIN the weight back until I get pregnant again. Just the opposite of what happens to a "normal" woman's body. To put things into perspective, 6 months after our second child was born, I was a size 2. By the time I was pregnant with our 3rd child I was a size 12. While my friends are worried about gaining weight WITH a pregnancy, I am worried about how much weight I am going to gain if I never get pregnant again. I know. Pretty messed up. I take care of myself and my babies when I am pregnant, and it all falls apart when it's just me, taking care of me.
So, while my food addiction is perfectly legal, it is ever bit as damaging to my soul, to my body, and to my well-being in general, as my brother's drug addiction. I began our last pregnancy at my highest non-pregnant weight ever. Having gone through a previous pregnancy with gestational diabetes, and knowing that I had put on a lot of weight between pregnancies, I started testing my blood sugar right away. I was in tears and complete misery and remorse because the numbers were so high. I couldn't believe what I had done to myself and possibly to our baby after PROMISING myself that I would eat better after the gestational diabetes. So there's that rock bottom with the pathetic addict begging for help, and I was. I was begging God, "PLEEASE, please, just let this baby be healthy, and I WILL NOT eat the junk anymore." With God's help, I did great with my diet and the pregnancy. I counted every carb and after the 1st trimester my blood glucose numbers were lower and a bit easier to manage. In fact, when the 28 week glucose screening came along, I passed it. Barely, but I passed. I continued to carefully watch everything I ate, our baby was born healthy, and I quickly started dropping the pounds. I also quickly forgot how enslaved I had been to the sugary foods and it wasn't long before I thought I had it licked and every now and then I would allow myself to indulge in an extra piece of cake, or ice cream. Before long, every now and then turned into everyday, and everyday turned into, "I NEED THIS NOW...I DESERVE THIS." My pants and skirts got tighter and once again I pulled out my "big me" clothes, and I was/am now at that point where I was/am in so much bondage to the sin of gluttony that it even becomes difficult to ask God for help. It is difficult because I KNOW He will help and I am so attached to the sin and don't want to let go. (Notice how my conversations became "me" centered. I was no longer asking for God's help, but seeking what would satisfy ME).
This IS the devil's game, and even though I realize this, even though I am hitting back with the Sacrament of Confession, Mass, daily seeking God's help, the understanding of what I am up against, and knowing I can't do this on my own, I am still losing the battle. I have the Sacraments, I have the knowledge that I need to seek God's help, and still I am losing. How much more difficult must it be for my brother, who has none of these things? He does not even know what he is fighting. Both of us are trying to fill some sort of void, and I know the only way either of us will ever overcome our addictions is total surrender of our hearts and souls to Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, and on top of that, this is a lifelong battle. We must continually remind ourselves of how little, weak, and helpless we are, and learn to fully rely on God's mercy and love to fill all the voids in our souls, and in my case remember that I don't DESERVE anything, or NEED anything other than food to fuel my body.
While my brother spends the next 5 years in prison battling his addiction, I have resolved to spend my time battling my own, and any graces that I receive I am asking Our Lord to shower upon him as well. How can I tell my brother to stop indulging in his addiction, if I cannot stop indulging in my own? How much better of a witness can I give to my brother about God's healing power if I myself allow Him to heal me of my own addictions first, rather than looking to be a great hypocrite? This is a HUGE hold the devil has over me. This is currently his main tactic in moving me to self loathing, and despair. I fall into these dark areas, despite my knowledge that God's mercy is endless and His love greater than any sin. I can only imagine how much darker the darkness is for someone like my brother who has not yet witnessed His great love.
Sharing all of this is a big deal for a couple of reasons. Number one, right now I am doing better. I've been exercising regularly for over a month. This means I am gaining confidence. Unfortunately, this also means it's about time for my head to swell and start thinking I'm doing something grand. Not true. Everyday is a struggle and I need a constant reminder that I am only going to beat this with the help of God and the second I let go of Him, I'm going to fall. Oh, and I will fall. I already have. I need to remember to be thankful for the falls, because they allow me to remember how difficult this journey is, and that really, it's NEVER going to be over. This post is a reminder when I do fall, that it's not that big of a deal and I just need to crawl to Confession, and get back up. Secondly, I need prayers. Prayers for me, prayers for my brother, and prayers for anyone struggling with any sort of addiction.
And a little perspective (and I think motivation) from Matthew West: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A8JsRxVczmQ
Hello, my name is Little Catholic Mama, and I am addicted to eating too much (junk food in particular) and the computer (facebook in particular). The computer addiction is a little easier to deal with than the eating so I am going to focus on the eating in this post. After all, as St. Augustine said, "Complete abstinence is easier than perfect moderation,” and you HAVE to eat! As for facebook, I have simply deactivated my account!
I have gone up and down the scale with every pregnancy, birth, and in between, for the past 10 years. I realize this does not sound uncommon, and most likely to most people looking at me from the outside my addiction is not really that noticeable. After all, I have had 5 pregnancies in 10 years. Most women's body's DO change a lot during these years. However, anyone who has paid close attention will note that unlike most women, I LOSE the weight very quickly after pregnancy and GAIN the weight back until I get pregnant again. Just the opposite of what happens to a "normal" woman's body. To put things into perspective, 6 months after our second child was born, I was a size 2. By the time I was pregnant with our 3rd child I was a size 12. While my friends are worried about gaining weight WITH a pregnancy, I am worried about how much weight I am going to gain if I never get pregnant again. I know. Pretty messed up. I take care of myself and my babies when I am pregnant, and it all falls apart when it's just me, taking care of me.
So, while my food addiction is perfectly legal, it is ever bit as damaging to my soul, to my body, and to my well-being in general, as my brother's drug addiction. I began our last pregnancy at my highest non-pregnant weight ever. Having gone through a previous pregnancy with gestational diabetes, and knowing that I had put on a lot of weight between pregnancies, I started testing my blood sugar right away. I was in tears and complete misery and remorse because the numbers were so high. I couldn't believe what I had done to myself and possibly to our baby after PROMISING myself that I would eat better after the gestational diabetes. So there's that rock bottom with the pathetic addict begging for help, and I was. I was begging God, "PLEEASE, please, just let this baby be healthy, and I WILL NOT eat the junk anymore." With God's help, I did great with my diet and the pregnancy. I counted every carb and after the 1st trimester my blood glucose numbers were lower and a bit easier to manage. In fact, when the 28 week glucose screening came along, I passed it. Barely, but I passed. I continued to carefully watch everything I ate, our baby was born healthy, and I quickly started dropping the pounds. I also quickly forgot how enslaved I had been to the sugary foods and it wasn't long before I thought I had it licked and every now and then I would allow myself to indulge in an extra piece of cake, or ice cream. Before long, every now and then turned into everyday, and everyday turned into, "I NEED THIS NOW...I DESERVE THIS." My pants and skirts got tighter and once again I pulled out my "big me" clothes, and I was/am now at that point where I was/am in so much bondage to the sin of gluttony that it even becomes difficult to ask God for help. It is difficult because I KNOW He will help and I am so attached to the sin and don't want to let go. (Notice how my conversations became "me" centered. I was no longer asking for God's help, but seeking what would satisfy ME).
This IS the devil's game, and even though I realize this, even though I am hitting back with the Sacrament of Confession, Mass, daily seeking God's help, the understanding of what I am up against, and knowing I can't do this on my own, I am still losing the battle. I have the Sacraments, I have the knowledge that I need to seek God's help, and still I am losing. How much more difficult must it be for my brother, who has none of these things? He does not even know what he is fighting. Both of us are trying to fill some sort of void, and I know the only way either of us will ever overcome our addictions is total surrender of our hearts and souls to Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, and on top of that, this is a lifelong battle. We must continually remind ourselves of how little, weak, and helpless we are, and learn to fully rely on God's mercy and love to fill all the voids in our souls, and in my case remember that I don't DESERVE anything, or NEED anything other than food to fuel my body.
While my brother spends the next 5 years in prison battling his addiction, I have resolved to spend my time battling my own, and any graces that I receive I am asking Our Lord to shower upon him as well. How can I tell my brother to stop indulging in his addiction, if I cannot stop indulging in my own? How much better of a witness can I give to my brother about God's healing power if I myself allow Him to heal me of my own addictions first, rather than looking to be a great hypocrite? This is a HUGE hold the devil has over me. This is currently his main tactic in moving me to self loathing, and despair. I fall into these dark areas, despite my knowledge that God's mercy is endless and His love greater than any sin. I can only imagine how much darker the darkness is for someone like my brother who has not yet witnessed His great love.
Sharing all of this is a big deal for a couple of reasons. Number one, right now I am doing better. I've been exercising regularly for over a month. This means I am gaining confidence. Unfortunately, this also means it's about time for my head to swell and start thinking I'm doing something grand. Not true. Everyday is a struggle and I need a constant reminder that I am only going to beat this with the help of God and the second I let go of Him, I'm going to fall. Oh, and I will fall. I already have. I need to remember to be thankful for the falls, because they allow me to remember how difficult this journey is, and that really, it's NEVER going to be over. This post is a reminder when I do fall, that it's not that big of a deal and I just need to crawl to Confession, and get back up. Secondly, I need prayers. Prayers for me, prayers for my brother, and prayers for anyone struggling with any sort of addiction.
And a little perspective (and I think motivation) from Matthew West: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A8JsRxVczmQ
Friday, November 18, 2011
Guarding Our Senses
We all know how powerful our senses are. Smelling a certain smell or hearing a song can instantly transport our minds to another place and another time. A few months ago, as I stood with my kids in the face painting line of a children’s tent, I heard the lyrics, “It’s a quarter after one, I’m a little drunk, and I need you now” sung on the karaoke machine. I turned around to see several middle school girls having a great time being stars of the microphone. I felt sick to my stomach. I looked around. Was I the only person in the tent who found it very disturbing to hear young girls singing about being drunk and “needing” a man? Doesn’t anyone else hear what they are singing? Sure they heard it, they were singing along.
Why then, did they not feel the same discomfort as I was feeling? In a culture where we are constantly bombarded with what should be offensive to us, we very quickly and easily become desensitized. What would have shocked generations before us, is now just a part of everyday life. We walk through the mall and see giant posters of women dressed in nothing more than a skimpy pair of undergarments. Commercials are laced with sexual innuendos. Music, with distasteful lyrics is played virtually everywhere we go. Most of the culture is so accustomed to seeing and hearing all of this garbage that we do not even notice how inappropriate it is. We’ve been living in the stench so long, we can no longer smell it.
In our little Catholic Bubble, we try very hard to not only guard the senses of our children, but also our own. When we first had children, we were not yet practicing the faith, yet I knew I did not want our daughter to hear most of the music we enjoyed listening to, nor did I want her little eyes exposed to the television shows we were watching. As we learned more about the faith I started to question myself. If I didn’t want her to see or hear something because it was garbage, what then would make it appropriate for me? Would I be embarrassed if Jesus were sitting on the couch watching this with me? Would I be comfortable singing these lyrics in church? Over time we made changes. We stopped watching most of our favorite shows and got rid of the majority of our music collections. Does this mean we do not watch TV, or that we have no music? Absolutely not (although many of our wise friends have pulled the plug and are still surviving)! It simply means we monitor everything we see and hear.
The hardest part for me was the music. I love music. I love music to the point where I can say that for over half of my life, it was my god. I spent hours in my room growing up listening to music. I fell asleep listening to music, woke up listening to music, and spent my study halls writing my favorite lyrics in notebooks. I prided myself on making the best mix tapes to listen to while cruising. Music, for me, is more powerful than any smell, at taking me back to a certain place. It was hard for me to let go of my attachment to all of this, but I knew it wasn’t good for my soul. I would hear a few notes of AC/DC and I could taste the beer and feel the party. So I got rid of the music. I discovered a treasure of appropriate music. Music that glorifies God. Music that brings me closer to Him, rather than further away from Him. Music that builds me up, instead of tearing me down. Music I can pray to.
It is this treasure I wish those young girls would find, because we need to guard our own senses and the senses of our children. I don’t know who said this, but it is true:
"Our thoughts become our words. Our words become our actions. Our actions become our habits. Our habits become our character. Our character becomes our destiny."
I will add to this that our thoughts are heavily influenced by our senses. You get the picture. Considering that our destiny is shaped by our character, habits, actions, words, and what we expose ourselves to, I pose the following question:
Do we really want young girls (or anyone) singing about the pathetic false-love in Lady Antebellum’s (yes I did have to look it up) song?
I say it would be far better for them to embrace the authentic love that penetrates the heart when listening to something like "Beautiful", by Mercy Me. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8WnAq0o2Xl8
Why then, did they not feel the same discomfort as I was feeling? In a culture where we are constantly bombarded with what should be offensive to us, we very quickly and easily become desensitized. What would have shocked generations before us, is now just a part of everyday life. We walk through the mall and see giant posters of women dressed in nothing more than a skimpy pair of undergarments. Commercials are laced with sexual innuendos. Music, with distasteful lyrics is played virtually everywhere we go. Most of the culture is so accustomed to seeing and hearing all of this garbage that we do not even notice how inappropriate it is. We’ve been living in the stench so long, we can no longer smell it.
In our little Catholic Bubble, we try very hard to not only guard the senses of our children, but also our own. When we first had children, we were not yet practicing the faith, yet I knew I did not want our daughter to hear most of the music we enjoyed listening to, nor did I want her little eyes exposed to the television shows we were watching. As we learned more about the faith I started to question myself. If I didn’t want her to see or hear something because it was garbage, what then would make it appropriate for me? Would I be embarrassed if Jesus were sitting on the couch watching this with me? Would I be comfortable singing these lyrics in church? Over time we made changes. We stopped watching most of our favorite shows and got rid of the majority of our music collections. Does this mean we do not watch TV, or that we have no music? Absolutely not (although many of our wise friends have pulled the plug and are still surviving)! It simply means we monitor everything we see and hear.
The hardest part for me was the music. I love music. I love music to the point where I can say that for over half of my life, it was my god. I spent hours in my room growing up listening to music. I fell asleep listening to music, woke up listening to music, and spent my study halls writing my favorite lyrics in notebooks. I prided myself on making the best mix tapes to listen to while cruising. Music, for me, is more powerful than any smell, at taking me back to a certain place. It was hard for me to let go of my attachment to all of this, but I knew it wasn’t good for my soul. I would hear a few notes of AC/DC and I could taste the beer and feel the party. So I got rid of the music. I discovered a treasure of appropriate music. Music that glorifies God. Music that brings me closer to Him, rather than further away from Him. Music that builds me up, instead of tearing me down. Music I can pray to.
It is this treasure I wish those young girls would find, because we need to guard our own senses and the senses of our children. I don’t know who said this, but it is true:
"Our thoughts become our words. Our words become our actions. Our actions become our habits. Our habits become our character. Our character becomes our destiny."
I will add to this that our thoughts are heavily influenced by our senses. You get the picture. Considering that our destiny is shaped by our character, habits, actions, words, and what we expose ourselves to, I pose the following question:
Do we really want young girls (or anyone) singing about the pathetic false-love in Lady Antebellum’s (yes I did have to look it up) song?
I say it would be far better for them to embrace the authentic love that penetrates the heart when listening to something like "Beautiful", by Mercy Me. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8WnAq0o2Xl8
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Dust My Soul
It’s that time of year again when the sunlight comes streaming through my windows at just the right angle, allowing me to see millions of dust particles floating through the air. At our old house this didn’t happen. So last year, when I first started seeing these flying particles, screaming out my great lack of ability to keep my house clean, I spent all my spare minutes trying to stay ahead of the dust. “My chore chart must be off”, I told myself. “Clearly, I need to be dusting much more frequently than the chart says, or I wouldn’t be able to see all this dust floating around”. No matter how often I dusted, every time the sun shone through the windows I would still see it floating everywhere. I started complaining to my husband. This whole situation was really starting to make me panic. I was about to give birth to our 4th living child. How was I going to care for a newborn, homeschool, and take care of the house if I couldn’t even stay ahead of the dust? So he bought new filters for the furnace and assured me it was probably just part of living in a newly constructed home. The weeks passed, the baby was born, and my obsession with the dust went away.
This summer I looked for the particles, but never saw many, and felt assured that it must have been the new construction. All was well, that is until this morning, when I looked in the bathroom mirror. Now, I haven’t been following my chore chart very well lately, and it HAS been awhile since I have dusted thoroughly, BUT there on my mirror, were thousands of dust particles, and the light streaming in through the bathroom window clearly showed a path of the particles through the entire room. My stomach knotted up a bit. I got out the glass cleaner and sprayed down the mirror. I dusted it, and looked again. I could still see all the particles flying around and the mirror really didn’t look that much better. The truth was out. The dust had never gone away. It was just hiding in the lack of sunlight.
In that moment I realized that the dust and the light from the sun are like sin and the light of Jesus. At night, or during different seasons when the sun is not shining so directly into the house, I cannot see the dust, just as when we are far from the light of Christ we cannot see our sins. As we move closer to Him and His light shines upon us we can suddenly see not just the big sins, but the little ones too. The closer we get, the more we can see how desperately we need Him to cleanse our souls. I was reminded that the longer I go between confessions, the less I recognize my sins. I try to go weekly or biweekly, and when I do, I have very little difficulty remembering all of the ways I have offended Him. However, when I needlessly put off confession and the days go by, I start to drift further from His light, making it much more difficult to see my sins. Eventually (I never let it go past a month) it gets dim enough that I am duped into thinking I don’t have all that much to confess, and the thought of going becomes a burden rather than a blessing. When this happens I know enough to know that I have wandered too far. I am in the dark. It is now more important than ever to run, as fast as I can, towards the light and into the confessional for thorough dusting.
Lord Jesus, shine your light upon my soul. Show me every area of sin and ugliness that needs to be dusted and cleansed. Never let me drift too far into the darkness, and only momentarily so that I can be reminded of my great need for your mercy and light. Dust my soul Jesus in your great Sacrament of Mercy.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Giant Piles of Laundry
Monday, September 19, 2011
He is Always There
I am a convert. Not just the kind of convert that used to be a good Protestant and is now a good Catholic, but the other kind. You know, the kind whose old friends look at the new me with skepticism and whose new friends have trouble believing that I was "really THAT bad". For a long time after conversion (when I say conversion I mean the initial conversion...we are all constantly converting) I wondered why I had chosen to drift so far away from God. I asked, "Where WAS He?" and "Why didn't I know?". The truth is He was always there. I was just choosing to look the other way. I did not want to see Him. He was there with sadness in His eyes when I rebelled against my parents. He was there hoping I would not take that first drink. He was there every step of the way trying to breakthrough to me. I didn't listen. I chose not to see Him. I chose not to hear Him. I threw Him aside, but He never gave up on me. In His eyes I was still the little girl gazing at the crucifix on her grandmother's wall. He saw and still sees in my heart the beauty that no one else can see. He sees and waits patiently for me, and for all of us, to give Him bits and pieces to work with...molding us into the persons He created us to be. There are a million things that I wish I could change about my past, but the truth is, if I hadn't come from the stench of sin that I was bathing in, I don't think I would have the same appreciation for all He has already done and continues to do for me, and for all of us. Wherever we are, He is always there waiting for a simple glance in His direction. With that glance, He can touch our hearts in ways we can't even imagine.
Edited to add this song, which pretty much sums it up:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lnF7WZzSiyo
Edited to add this song, which pretty much sums it up:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lnF7WZzSiyo
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