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Showing posts from October, 2016

Walking By Faith, Catholic Zombie Edition

We walk by faith, and not by sight: 
No gracious words we hear 
of him who spoke as none e'er spoke
yet we believe him near.

We may not touch his hands and side, 
nor follow where he trod; 
yet in his promise we rejoice, and cry, 
"My Lord and God! 

I'm running on less than 3 hours sleep. It's cold and rainy and dreary. My office is a bit nippy, so I'm typing with fingerless gloves on. And I've had it "up to here" with God.

(I am a firm believer that it's okay to get angry at God. I know the trials and tribulations in my life are not His fault, but I gotta unload on someone, and He's got very sturdy shoulders.)

The answer I thought I had for my chronic pain turned out to be a bust. That was a day of tears and anger. There is another possible solution, but I am afraid to hope. I'm sort of in a "I'll believe it when I see it" frame of mind.

Youngest Son has broken my trust and faith yet again, in an incredibly hurtful way. I am scr…

Love Me Some World Religions

A long, long time ago, I went to college. This was back in the olden days when a slightly naive but studious Catholic girl didn't have awesome choices like Magdalen College and St. Thomas More College. My parents dropped me off at Alma College, which was founded by the Presbyterian Church. A priest friend of theirs told them he felt confident that my faith life would be safer there than at any "Catholic" college available to me at the time, as most of them had joined in the post-Vatican II meltdown of the '70s.

I had planned to be an English major (and graduated with enough credits, but did not fulfill all the department requirements.) But I had a true epiphany as a freshman, in a class called "Religion in America." One of our readings was Martin Luther King Jr.'s "Letter From Birmingham Jail." It knocked the breath out of me. I had never heard the Gospel proclaimed in this way - the Word of God as a basis for justice. (Gentle reader: Yes, I …

Feeling Smart and Stupid, all at the same time

It's an interesting time to be alive, isn't it? And American to boot. Thought I'd make a few notes because my brain is getting a bit scrambled....

What I Know:

I know that I am a card-carryin' member of the Catholic Church, and the gates of Hell shall not prevail against it. (Presidential elections notwithstanding.)

I know how to cook. And I'm pretty good at it, when I do it.

I know I am loved by my siblings, and I love them in return.

I know I survived raising 5 kids with a lot of issues. And I'm really, really proud of them.

I know that the older I get, the more I like cats.

I know that big families are a big blessing.

I know that the saints are my friends. Deo gratias.

Now:

I don't know how I'm going to vote in the upcoming election. It's like a choice between food poisoning and a life-threatening allergic reaction.

I do not know how my kids managed to survive me as a mom.

I do not know how to keep my kids Catholic (but if I did, I'd be rich. …

How to be a good mother when you just can't

I hesitate to give this piece any more advertisement than it has already received, but just so we are all on the same page, here goes.

Marie Claire magazine, which is pretty standard fashion/ads/young women in America stuff, recently printed an article about women who were miserable as moms. MISERABLE.

"The regret hit me when the grandmas went home and my husband went back to the office and I was on my own with him," she says. "I realized that this was my life now—and it was unbearable." And:
"I wish I would never had kids [sic]. I realize I am not mother material, and I am terrified thinking how I am going to be forced to take care of it." And:
She envies friends not for their spontaneous vacations and naps, but for the time and space they have to think. "I hold a lot of data in my head," Ananya says of constantly keeping on top of all the details that go with small children: doctor's appointments, weight, height, most recent allergies, toys t…