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Dear Clara
Sunday, April 23, 2017
Wednesday, April 5, 2017
Rules of Life #1
I am so glad
that there’s an authority in the world more reliable than my heart and
emotions. I am glad because I can be an emotional basket case sometimes. Fear,
especially, will throw my mind into such a tailspin that coherent thoughts
leave me faster than your brother can eat dessert. Anger can do that to me,
too. I am often surprised at just how quickly anger will consume me. Anger
takes me to a state where I make pretty big mistakes, usually with the people I
love the most. And, more often than not, these mistakes are the ones that I
carry around with the most regret.
When I count
my blessings, then, I am thankful there is a guiding light in the midst of this
dark world who, from the beginning of time, has revealed to us the truth for
all ages. In America especially, there seems to be obsession with making every
single emotion—no matter how fleeting—the rule of the day.
Well, I refuse
to be ruled by the rule of the day. In fact, in my first installment of “Rules
of Life” posts, I share number one:
1.
Do not run away from truth which comes
from the Father.
This first
rule is devastatingly simple and frustratingly difficult to live by. The world
will tell you about 20 times per day that faith and religion are outdated or
unnecessary. Some will even go so far as to say that the Christian faith is
simple-minded and intolerant. Beware of these people, Clara. It’s a fact that
some of the people who scream the loudest about the need for tolerance and
insist that Christians be tolerant of everyone else’s beliefs are often the
most intolerant when it comes to our faith. Their brand of tolerance seems only
to apply to them.
There is
fundamental truth, Clara, and you shouldn’t try to devise it for yourself.
There isn't a truth for you and a truth for me—not really. You can believe what you
believe and choose to live as you desire. But make no mistake about it, your
free will comes from God. He designed it that way. He gave you the freedom to
turn away from Him or to turn toward him. He is real. Jesus is the way, the
truth, and the life.
I see examples
of this all over the Catholic faith. I know so many of what can be termed “cafeteria
Catholics,” those who pick and choose which parts of Catholicism to accept or
deny. I wish not to judge and will never do so, but that is not my way. Even
when there are elements of our faith that I do not understand, and may even
wish were different or easier to accept (and there are some), I don’t allow
myself to go there. I think on it, I ponder it, but mostly I pray about it. I
have no intention to subvert God’s truth to make it fit the current station of
my life.
Let me be
clear: I’m not praying to change it. I’m praying for wisdom to understand it.
I’m praying for healing for those who are hurt by it. I’m praying for grace to
articulate it in a way that can bring people closer to Him. Ultimately, I look
to God and His church for the answers. Whenever I succumb to searching for
truth in today’s culture, I know I am on the wrong path. I pray to fully accept
God’s will and truth. That’s my number one rule of life. It’s the easiest and
hardest of them all.
Thursday, December 29, 2016
When in Doubt, Clean (and Pray)
When I’ve had
a really unproductive day—and I mean one of those where nothing I do seems to
move my day forward—the one thing that always helps is to the pick up the
house. It restores a sense of order and balance and brings me a sense of
accomplishment. A little victory, yes, but it opens the door to better things.
It’s also a
gift that keeps on giving, if you know what I mean. There’s always something to
straighten around here: the mail that’s been accumulating on the kitchen
counter, the scattered notes I took during my work-from-home time at the
kitchen island, the dishes in the sink, the shoes in the family room, the
laundry strewn throughout our bedrooms, or the toys in every place imaginable
(even the bathroom)! The need to pick up the house is like the laundry in that
way. It is always there for me to do.
For the
record, I maintain that laundry is the worst household chore at the top of a
very a long list of housekeeping tasks. Why? Because let’s face it—unless you
are doing the laundry naked, you are never, ever done. Maybe someday, Clara, you’ll
feel different about laundry. Maybe the act of washing, drying, folding and
putting away the same clothes week after week will bring you calm and do for
you what picking up the house does for me. With every toy shelved and every
counter wiped clean, I feel a little boost like an energy drink that gives me
the liquid motivation to accomplish more. In today’s case, it brought me to
this laptop to bang out this blog post. Anything that sparks some creativity
and gets me writing is a very positive development at a time when writing has
become extremely hard.
The other buoy
in a storm of an unproductive day is prayer. It’s not that prayer gets me moving to
accomplish more, but it settles my heart to accept what the day has been,
offers up the struggle, and brings a different kind of peace. Making myself
converse with God is harder than picking up the house—allow me to be honest
here. Sometimes I just don’t feel worthy enough to engage God in conversation
about my petty things. Oftentimes, I’m just too tired to give him the time of
day. That’s a terrible thing, but it’s a very real struggle. The good news is
that God’s mercy overflows and he keeps gently prodding me to spend time with
him. I find that when I do it—when I really take the time out to “waste time
with God,” as Father John Ricardo says, then an unproductive day has become as
productive as possible. Clara, there is no better use of your time. I hope that
I can manage to model a good prayer life for you.
I’ve always
believed that the best thing that your Dad and I can do for you as parents is
impart to you our faith so that you have God as your foundation for life. That
may sound trite and old fashioned but I’m fine with that. God never intended to
be fashionable or with “the times.” Whenever I am distressed by our current
culture, I remember that this is our temporary home. Try to remember that,
Clara, when your day isn’t going as planned or you feel you aren’t making
progress. Give it up to God and then go pick up the house.
Monday, November 14, 2016
Paying the Force Forward
I was witness
to something extraordinary a few days ago, on the evening of Halloween. Your
brother, Johnny, saw that our four-year-old neighbor up the street had an Ezra
Bridger costume from the Star Wars Rebels cartoon on television. His costume
wasn’t complete in Johnny’s eyes because our little friend had the wrong Jedi
lightsaber. The green one he was carrying around as a prop wasn’t true to the
character. Naturally, your brother sought to rectify the situation, given that
he is our resident Star Wars expert. He proceeded to go into our house and
retrieve his beloved Ezra lightsaber from his collection. He then gave it to
the little boy. Clara, did you catch that?
Johnny gave his Ezra lightsaber to his little buddy—not to borrow for the evening, but for keeps. When Johnny told me, well, let me admit my shock. It wasn’t like it was an old toy or something he had stopped doing battle with around the house. He loved his Ezra lightsaber.
Johnny gave his Ezra lightsaber to his little buddy—not to borrow for the evening, but for keeps. When Johnny told me, well, let me admit my shock. It wasn’t like it was an old toy or something he had stopped doing battle with around the house. He loved his Ezra lightsaber.
Johnny’s absolute
desire to share his treasure with our friend warms my heart. It was given
freely, without reservation and without regret (and without parental
suggestion). And I think it’s because, several weeks earlier, he saw what real
giving was through the prism of his beloved Star Wars possessions.
Johnny’s in
junior high school now and, over the past year, has wanted to start shedding
his kid-ness. He started by removing some of the Star Wars décor from his
bedroom and I supported that decision with a heavy heart. I suggested that
maybe our friend down the street would appreciate having anything he no longer
wanted. Johnny said that was a good idea, and one day a few weeks ago, we
walked up and knocked on our neighbors’ door. The gratitude and jubilation of
that little boy has forever made an impression on Johnny’s heart. The little
boy danced around his house, trying out his new stuff, and Johnny engaged him
in an epic lightsaber battle, boy to boy, and maybe even Jedi Master to Padawan.
When we finally
left, Johnny’s smile radiated nearly as strongly as our little friend’s. Giving
finally clicked for him. Johnny started with giving away his old stuff to
quickly giving up something he loved—and all because he wanted his little
friend to have great joy the same way he did.
Thursday, October 20, 2016
For my little girl (and her brothers, too)
I’m writing this
blog for my little girl, Clara. When I was a teen, I designed a dream for
myself that included many aspirations for my career and my home life. First, I
wanted to be an adventurous single woman charting my path and changing the
world through investigative journalism—telling the story of the people who didn’t
otherwise have a voice. The next part of the dream always included marriage and
babies. I wanted to fall in love with my Prince Charming and I especially hoped
for the opportunity to parent a little girl so I could share with her, woman to
woman, my experiences in order to help her become the person she was meant to
be.
God has certainly
blessed me. I have been married to my best friend for a decade-and-a-half. We have two
amazing sons and one feisty, loving little girl. My husband and I are also the
parents of two babies who have gone to heaven before us and they are always
with us. The reflections to come in this space are not just meant for Clara,
but for her brothers, too, and anyone else willing to read them. While I may
tackle some sticky topics here at times-my personal views of faith and politics
to name two—I do not intend any disrespect to the reader nor do I seek to
offend anyone. In fact, I am determined to write to my daughter as if there is
no one else in the room. As her mother, that is certainly my right and it is
certainly anyone else’s not to follow or read or share. I respect the opinions
and views of others. My faith and upbringing demand that. Thanks for showing
me the same.
Note that the
names used in these blog posts are not real, but the people behind the names
certainly are. I am changing the names to give my daughter plausible
deniability someday (when she grows beyond her toddler years and into her
adolescence and may, at times, not want anything to do with me).
Also note that the
creation of this blog is part of an exercise in which I’m trying to find my
voice. I am a very opinionated person, but I suspect that people outside of my
inner circle do not know that. I despise conflict and I never want to be the
source of anyone else’s anger, hatred, or discomfort. This is why I rarely
speak up outside of friendly company about my faith or my positions on so-called
controversial issues. I rarely insert myself into other people’s business. In
many ways, these are good instincts.
But there’s a flip side. There is a time, Clara, when silence is as bad as or even worse than
speaking up and maybe saying the wrong thing. Sometimes the desire to protect
myself or not offend anyone hurts me more than anyone else. When I come home
from anywhere—a meeting, a gathering of friends, a Facebook lurk—and I didn’t
speak up for something that I knew, deep down, I should have, it is painful to
me. Where is my courage? Where is my voice? I am hoping that in speaking with
you through these words, I can find mine, and through the process, help you
whom I love with all my heart.
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