Grateful

Sometimes it seems our minds are not our own anymore. It seems the world is pressing in more and more into my little sanctuary, trying to rob me of the ability to think clearly. I've found it necessary to take small steps pushing back against the influx of information in order that Jesus may reign in my mind and soul rather than the anxieties and fears that accompany such a daily avalanche of information.

So grateful this week for the gift of a mind that can choose beauty, choose to love, choose to be kind rather than fearing the world and the future which always seems so uncertain. A mind that can choose to feed on life giving knowledge.

I know when I'm not under Jesus' yoke because anxiety and all my efforts to control rather than trust are burying me deep in the sand, unable to move forward. And so - repeatedly because I am remarkably human - I pull myself out and hand myself over, a little smaller every time, to Him who can carry me through the darkest tunnel.

We are moving from this beautiful part of the country. Virginia has shown me the most glorious fall I have ever known. Always moving. New unknown. Like Bilbo I get too comfortable and God sees the need to stretch me. I must always remember that this world is just my ship, and I've been remarkably good at getting too comfortable and somehow missing the peace that I expect would come with it. Home is important. It is my little sub-creation. It is my mirror on eternity and paradise. But it is only for a time. It is a means to an ultimate end. I'm looking forward to eternity with Jesus, but there is much to be transformed in me before I get there and I pray for the grace of perseverance.

True Yoke

These thoughts tiptoed into my winding, rushing, stumbling mind
What am I seeking, lightening my soul with
crying for? needing.

When He said, I shall find rest for my soul
with His yoke. Blessed direction. Relieving security.
Small spirit. Weak tears. Halcyon moment.

Precious faces come in
A mind that can know
A heart burying itself in love's divine home.

Come to me, all you that labour, and are burdened, and I will refresh you. Take up my yoke upon you, and learn of me, because I am meek, and humble of heart: and you shall find rest to your souls. For my yoke is sweet and my burden light.

Gospel of St Matthew Ch 11 vs 28-30

Poetry is a gift

I am quite sure that if this world lost its treasure trove of poetry, many would experience deep enduring pangs within their chest. I am one of those people. I love verse. Words that punch the mind into some motion of thoughts.

We write to give voice to the joys of the spirit. We put words to paper to profess the joys of our souls. And then, we speak with the written word to let go of our griefs and sort out our confused minds so tainted by the fall. Then there is truth. Oh the joy of finding the greatness of Truth. Truth and beauty, a double helix unseen by many. Poetry helps us get the words out succinctly so that others might ponder such pearls. And yet the poetry makes us feel vulnerable, whether it is our own or glimpsing into the broken world of another.

In my high school years, although I barely recognized the inter-dependance of truth and beauty, I had a natural revulsion for anything that was not true. In some mysterious way it had to be beautiful and beauty as ordered in nature, was truth. 

I read A Handmaids Tale by Margaret Atwood on the orders of an enamored English teacher, and turned my nose up at the opportunity to watch the movie. I was punished for my act of defiance and seeming insult. Mary, the Mother of God, was far away from my mind at that time, but the Word, Truth, Jesus, was showing me glimpses behind the veil of true feminism and beauty. And A Handmaids Tale fell far from the mark.

Poetry became a boon to the interior life I didn't know existed in me. So for someone like me, flawed, struggling, existing only on God's grace, I discovered the sweet brevity of poetry to articulate and ponder ideas I could not understand until they were out on paper. And then the joys of finding the words of others who like me, taking hold of Grace to overcome self absorption ever present in our minds since the fall. Lifting our minds and hearts as creatures to our Creator, a never ending source of peace.

Broken, frail, but trusting in the mercy of God. Many of these writers seemed to live out faith and hope. Some of them became saints. Some crawled into the specter of death on their hands and knees. Some chose to abandon their Creator and let their minds stumble over the weeds that had grown up around them.

I have the joy of many wonderful collections of poetry. A favorite is The Book of Living Verse compiled by Louis Untermeyer. The following belongs to Gerard Manley Hopkins

The Habit of Perfection

Elected Silence, sing to me

And beat upon my whorled ear,

Pipe me to pastures still, and be

The music that I care to hear.

Shape nothing, lips; be lovely-dumb;

It is the shut, the curfew sent

From there where all surrenders come

Which only makes you eloquent.

Be shelled, eyes, with double dark

And find the uncreated light:

This ruck and reel which you remark

Coils, keeps, and teases simple sight.

Palate, the hatch of tasty lust,

Desire not to be rinsed with wine:

The can must be so sweet, the crust

So fresh that come in fasts divine!

Nostrils, your careless breath that spend

Upon the stir and keep of pride,

What relish shall the censers send

Along the sanctuary side!

O feel-of-primrose hands, O feet

That want the yield of plushy sward,

But you shall walk the golden street

And you unhouse and house the Lord.

And, Poverty, be thou the bride

And now the marriage feast begun,

And lily-colored clothes provide

Your spouse not labored - at nor spun.

And then, too long to repeat here, The Hound of Heaven by Francis Thompson. Words do not exist to describe the story of this man from 19th century England. His poetry leaves me weak and tearful, humbled by my frailty before God. Ever dependent on His mercy and love.

A Poem

Feed Me

A record of all that I can remember
Pictures which float like the milkweed seeds. Tickling, confusing my eyes
The past polaroids, the pains.
And then, the labor of love He spread through it all.

This is a poem that remembers, the food my limping mind feeds upon
Unattractive morsels.
And so, my judgement fails me.
Crumbs that in truth, are picks assaulting my thoughts.
Leaving me ill prepared

This is a poem about turning to
All I want to know, remember
Sustaining truth that sings joyously
and briefly touches, soothes the deepest painful recesses of this worldly mind

A poem, a story about a soul going forward with trust
Settling, courageously, my mind on truth.
O that joyous, brilliant, dazzling truth!
No matter how ugly it may seem to the world.

It is amazing to me how little I have truly seen. Living in the desert, but finding beauty everywhere. Be Thou my vision is my prayer. God is giving me a tremendous gift and I'm ashamed of all the graces I have wasted and sad for the graces I will miss going forward because of my blindness. Be Thou my vision. Let me see as Heaven sees. Amen.

Pictures are mostly from our prairie walk. So much beauty in our world.

Summer Learning

We have had a wonderful summer and now find ourselves three weeks into school. This is the closest I've been to living out Charlotte Mason's philosophy in education and the outcome is tremendous. In many ways I too am being reeducated and my mind is waking up to the wonder of truth and beauty like never before. I touched on it briefly in my youth, but now it is like a flood everyday. Everything in my life I now see is continual grace from God and at times my soul seems to be swimming, hidden in His love. Yet how blind I remain.

In our education at home, we've embraced both verbal and drawn narrations in our study of Ancient Egypt and Catechism. I've practiced my artwork and our 2nd grader is quite pleased with his own work. Our youngest has made great strides learning his phonograms and making small but steady progress with stroke work.

We have come to love our nature journals and are discovering so much more outside now that we are more aware of our surroundings than ever before.

I've spent a great deal of time reading too. Rereading For The Children's Sake by Susan Schaeffer Macauley and starting When Children Love to Learn edited by Elaine Cooper. I've also added Leisure the Basis of Culture by Josef Pieper and The Gift of Fire by Richard Mitchell. Starting to make regular entries in my commonplace is the next step! There are many books I plan to revisit over the remainder of the year in addition to the novels that I am reading myself and to the boys. That will have to be saved for another post.

New year resolutions?

Where does time go? The past year has been swallowed up in a trip to New Zealand, a move cross country, building a house, launching myself into a whole new role as pre K/ K teacher part time and learning too many ideas about education theory along the way that now I am awake at night mulling over it all. Not to mention the ongoing health issues culminating in unexpected surgeries and still yet more tests to help resolve long imbalanced hormones.

The purpose of this post is to push through the muddle that has been occurring in my mind at times - and unfortunately on occasion at 3am - to get some clarity on goals for this year and reflect on the year past. New Year resolutions are not my forte typically, but I do love the freshness and new beginnings that January brings.

First, the realization that despite efforts to the contrary, it is still my will and not God's will that is driving my days has been coming home to roost over this Christmas season and shaken me interiorly. Daily acts of Faith, Hope and Love are in order for this somewhat upside down soul.

Next, with my body well on the path to mending, running is back to being a priority. A goal of two to three times a week.

Sewing. Regular - hopefully daily - sewing. I've been working on some amazing stuff that I've been failing to record. Reason for this is my camera! I misplaced my aged but faithful Canon digital.

I'm working on my book list for the year. There are some rereads in there, and new ones. A lot of Charlotte Mason, beauty and truth, prayer. I've started the year with a worn out brain, but life saving grace comes from God and He is providing.

Now... off to try and take some pictures that I have managed to hunt down my camera.

Surgery

Cutting to the point here. I'm having a laparoscopy on November 13th in the hope that it will help us concieve another child. I've got a great doctor, and a great trust in God and desire only to do His will.

Being Catholic, I don't participate in artificial methods of conceiving children, but do place great hope in God and the doctors who have trained according to the moral ethics the Church upholds.

Although it has been a hard week, it has also been yet another week of grace. With all my heart, I hope for the gift of another child that we can love as much as we love our two boys here with us. Daily I lay my soul down before the Will of God in which I can never place too much confidence.

From Abandonment to Divine Providence:

The will of God is at each moment before us like an immense, inexhaustible ocean that no human heart can fathom; but none can receive from it more than he has capacity to contain, it is necessary to enlarge this capacity by faith, confidence and love.

The way time rolls

Well, in the face of a knockout blow this afternoon, I can honestly say that I am back up and ready for God's will to take it's rightful home in my soul. I had hoped for a certain test result with all my raw heart. But no matter how much I wanted it, I am still choosing God's Will because it is perfect. And  hard.

I could list the ideals I once had lined up in my mind, but it wouldn't serve any purpose except my ego.

There is peace even though it feels like I'm racing through the dark. God is there and all I long to do is hide in Him. But it is true already. I'm just a drop of water swallowed whole by the Ocean that is God.

So that is what is happening in the shadows of my life. You know the shadows that hover over every soul. Those shadows that possess a thick unearthly veil that our evidence driven world seems to blithely skip over.

It is in those shadows that when I leave the house in the morning and drive down the rolling hills of my neighborhood that I find an overwhelming joy spring up and I say to my boys, today is a good day to be alive. Every day. It happens everyday! It is so easy to find the joy! God is hiding in the shadows of my life, but all too often with the snags that I trip over, I find Him shining with His Hand outstretched towards mine, coming well out of the shadows. Such mystery and wonder to be found in the interior of our lives; joy bubbling out of the shadows.

Change is refreshing

Well this is a year of change. No doubt about it. I love refreshing and renewing areas of life that might have not been working so well and needing an overhaul. However it is also in the pushing through the hard times, persevering through the challenging or monotonous work, that the greatest growth comes. I've loved this year of change; but I'm happy to be knuckling down to the nitty gritty.

Seeing the fruit of learning coming alive for the boys. Striving for the growth in virtues in myself - virtues which have weak muscles in my life and are getting a serious retraining. Delighting in the peace that comes from disciplining myself in the spiritual life. Yes the Cross is hard work, but it is amazing how anything less has become so unsatisfying.

I've been going back and forth on changing the name of my blog. You see, we always slow down for butterflies or birds when circumstances permit. It must border on the peculiar for other people, but it brings joy to us. Since I was a little girl, I always imagined that I could take off and fly across the room.

Discovery on our nature walk... in our backyard ;)

Building Cathedrals

All you who seek to honor these doors,

Marvel not at the gold and expense but at the craftsmanship of

the work.

The noble work is bright, but, being nobly bright, the work

should brighten the minds, allowing them to travel through the lights

To the true light, where Christ is the true door.

The golden door defines how it is immanent in these things.

The dull mind rises to the truth through material things,

and is resurrected from its former submersion when the light

is seen.

Aren't these words simply sublime? They are the words of the Abbot Suger who had them engraved on the doors of the Basilica of St Denis in Paris, France when he became responsible for its enlargement in the 12th century.

In a time with no electricity or even gaslights, bringing light into the church played a significant role in the design. Light was not just that seen in the creation of the sun, moon and stars; but also in the mind and intellect of man. A gift from God more valuable than any physical matter.

There are great minds from the middle ages who understood that. Certainly they could be rowdy and rough in contrast to our supposedly sophisticated lives. They were sinners, and they knew it. They knew the dignity of the soul; and they knew when they were walking away from Christ - or towards Him. The church as a center of the town was an ever present reminder of the purpose of life.

I am always struck by the reality that up until our modern period, the church was always the tallest structure in a town and was the center of the lives of its inhabitants. Consider the genius of the engineering, the importance of letting in light into the sanctuary and the collaboration on the details by the various craftsman who were true masters of their skill. They were not ignorant or stupid as some of my contemporaries assume.

Just look at the magnificence of the Basilica of St Denis above! They knew where to put their best efforts! Abbe Suger has powerful words for us 'moderns'. May I carry out noble work in my life like his craftsman did to point the way to the True Light.

Preparing the Soul

At this point in my life, I've never felt more certain of my purpose for being, for existing, for living - however one wishes to put it. It is to prepare my soul for Heaven. Yes, with fear and trembling, but also with confidence in Mercy. God's Mercy.

At this point in my life, I've also never felt more weak. Everything I endeavor to carry out appears to be fragile and arbitrary. However I'm deeply living the lesson of what Jesus meant when He said to be like children if we desire to enter the Kingdom of God. I always thought it was because children are 'innocent'. It isn't. It is because children are born with the inherent ability to trust their parents. Sin weakens this trust, but children hold onto it tenaciously. They trust to varying degrees, but it is there.

As 'wise' adults, we regularly toss aside this virtue on a daily basis. Despite the longing God has to gift it to us and help sustain us through our day, and then in the long haul as we hope for Heaven, we stay in the pathetic shallows. We are determined to be self sufficient.

Whats more, this trust seems to thrive in humility. The kind that says despite the feebleness in my soul and the sense of hobbling along, I have complete confidence in God to pick me up and take me where I will be closest to Him this side of Heaven.

G. K Chesterton writes in Orthodoxy:

The old humility was a spur that prevented a man from stopping; not a nail in his boot that prevented him from going on. For the old humility made a man doubtful about his efforts, which might make him work harder. But the new humility makes a man doubtful about his aims, which will make him stop working altogether.

At the start of this, I said I've never been more certain of my purpose for being. I will never be doubtful about my aims, little and big. I'm endeavoring to gain the trust that St Therese had. I'm going to keep picking up myself so that God can me moving on the right path.

Thank you Mary for hosting Weekends with Chesterton. Go to Better Than Eden to find more Chestertonian wisdom.

Weekends with Chesterton: Logic vs Poetry

From Orthodoxy:

Poetry is sane because it floats easily in an infinite sea;  reason seeks to cross the infinite sea, and so make it finite. The result is mental exhaustion, like the physical exhaustion of Mr. Holbein. To accept everything is an exercise, to understand everything a strain. The poet only desires exaltation and expansion, a world to stretch himself in. The poet only asks to get his head into the heavens. It is the logician who seeks to get the heavens into his head. And it is his head that splits.

Poetry is such an essential service to mankind. It gives voice to the divine liturgy where we seek to understand God better, and draw close to Him. In other places, it takes a mystery and shines a light on it, making it a mystical experience (try reading St John of the Cross). 

On a personal level, poetry keeps me human - and this quote from Chesterton perfectly illustrates it.

Consent

You have all my acquiescence,
my Lord.

what seemed a callous
tearing of the heart,
has become,

a prodigious Benefaction.

Now the saints beckon.

Love!

See more here.

What story are you writing?

Elizabeth Foss has written a post that asks a question that is the perfect summation of all the questions I have been asking recently. What is the story I am writing? It always seems to come back to love. Did I love whole heartedly? Or did I put conditions on everything and everyone?

Am I completely integrating, 'weaving' the spiritual life in with the physical and emotional life so that I make wise decisions?

We've all suffered. We've all been disillusioned. These are our opportunities for learning the hardest lesson, humility. In the most hidden recesses of my heart, God sees and God alone understands. So I must trust Him with all of this and know that my complete happiness is His plan even when life seems to contradict everything the way I think it should be.

So the story that I hope I am writing is one that loves my family with sincerity, commitment, selflessness. A story that accepts that nothing is going to be perfect the way my personality always wants it to be, but a story that is full of trust that God will bring about perfection from my weakness.

A story that chose joy, and a story of a girl that chose peace from God instead of bitterness from pain.

The lilting words
wrapped her trusting
soul with sweet apple pie.
Heavenly Fall

Peace swelled, 
as her little one
rested against her heart.

Visceral calm
no matter the 
outside confusion.

What do I know about love?

- 1 -

Not a whole lot, but I will forever find joy in that my only reason for existence is real and true love. 

- 2 -

I love love itself because it is a verb and a noun. I love love itself because it is God, and it is the only instruction in life. Practicing real love is impossible without God. I love love itself because it is my only hope in life.

- 3 -

I love love itself because Love is God. God did not need us, but because He is Love and he is Good, we exist (St. Augustine). He is infinite love from which we owe our existence. 

- 4 -

I love love itself because when I love unconditionally, I experience perfect freedom in my soul and all fear dissipates. I love that anything of value only can come from love, because of the source of all love is God who is Good.

- 5 -

Can love win? Only if our motive is carrying out God's Will who by loving us first, willed that we might love Him. I love love itself because in exposing my soul to it in greater degrees, I will receive greater joy in Heaven, and I become a willing tool for Christ. 

- 6 -

I love that the first sin, the rejection of infinite love, can only be repaired by infinite love (Fr Jean C.J. d'Elbee in I Believe in Love). Yes love wins. However not our frail love, but God's infinite merciful love in the face of our fallen nature, our failings, and our only true need.

- 7 -

I am not a theologian. I've been poorly catechized and formed in the faith. However I am utterly beholden to the gift that I have learnt that when I choose love in all situations, even the most painful, I find myself on the cross with Christ, and peace possesses my mind to the degree that I continue to turn the greatest pain to even greater love. May I stay on the cross with Christ in order to always choose greater love, because even when I can't see Him, I know he is there on the other side of the cross, experiencing my pain with me.

For more quick takes visit Conversion Diary

I Shall Not Want

This heart lilts towards the notes that
drowsily waft through the air
collecting pockets of joy.
Oh merry moments!

This heart percolates
in a steady stream that
cues His love into her depths. 
Oh blithe moments!

This soul steeps
in His Love,
for survival.
Oh merciful moments!

This body speaks
truth, it hopes
Suffering, it loves.
Persevering
Oh purifying moments!

Like a viola, keep me humble

and sane, Perfector of Love

Crystalloid Pool

In the pool that we daily
gaze into, we like to think 
it is crystalloid perfect.
Honesty compels us to speak.

It is sludge.
Scaling up the walls
of our soul; depleting
converting fertile soil
and precious virtue, 
into hideousness

Oh to live,
but not like this.
Boil away the dreggs.
It is always The Fire
that makes us clean.

Hope?
Really, wholly, yes entirely in Him.

Truly Loving

Truly Loving

These dogmatic little ones, life from our lives,
and God, Divine.

Bestowing my gentle words on their little minds,
listening to their glistening thoughts that impulsively 
announce themselves, raising questions.
Sweet, precious little minds, 
always anticipating
Steady rill of expectations,
and resolute confidence.
Oh I take such delight!

Then why the malady? An unrelenting descent into a self-loathing identity?

Lying deep down in the muck, 
raising my arms to the sky
Loving God.

This is clean-out on the frantic, the gibbering, the detestable; 
give me what is real, well ordered. 
Come in peace, come in life. Come in
Christ.

Resurrect the threads, linking this soul
to the Visible Veiled.
For all I love,
For the little ones,
For the call.

Where is Home?

I'm transplantable. You have to be transplantable to live the military life. More so in my case if you spent your childhood in three different continents. I've adapted fairly well to life in every place I've ever lived... until I came to Dayton, Ohio. I don't think it is specifically Dayton, although every place has a unique culture that impacts on you in some way. I think it is a mix of factors, of which the biggest is trying to find a sense of community that my family can 'fit in'. We all want to 'fit in' somehow, someway, and sometime soon. Well two years later that hasn't happened for me here, and with less than a year to go I'm not sure it will.

So now I'm left to define what our family life is all about, what is important to us, and how we are going to go about fulfilling it. I'm following the advice of my spiritual director, to be 'love in the heart of my home' which ties in very neatly with this book I'm reading and just absolutely loving.

There have been too many doubts floating in my mind over the past year, so with recognizing this, I'm changing direction. Yes I will still have doubts, but I'm going to hold each doubt up in God's light because quite frankly, my mind needs some serious fine tuning and the only way to go about it is holding every fear, question, and doubt up against the light that God always brings so perfectly. So this brings me to the first and most important step: prayer. Starting everyday with it is hands down absolutely essential for every Catholic mother, homeschooling or not.

As a lay Carmelite, this always starts with the Liturgy of the Hours. It doesn't matter whether I'm physically tired, mentally down, emotional - even crying. I join in with the rest of the Church and take the focus away from me and bring any burdens to my Father who is waiting for me. He doesn't push or cajole me. He is simply there waiting for me. Praying the Divine Office takes me away from all my hangups leading me into tremendous freedom. I especially love the psalms. I mentally choose to give everything to Christ to take and 'handle', and then step forward to 'do a good day' as my departed Grandmother used to say. I go and do a good day no matter what may be in it.

So first and foremost, home is a place I seek to fill with prayer. Beginning my day thus rightly ordered brings graces without fail into the rest of my day that I might have lost out on. It is the stage setting for growth in virtue. After the Eucharist, it is lifeblood for my soul - although that said, the Eucharist is the ultimate prayer. How can you surpass the intimacy the Eucharist brings? If we only realized!

Prayer is part of the foundation on which to bring renewal in myself and my family. Am I aflame with the Divine Fire that Christ came to cast upon the earth? Have I responded to the universal call to holiness, and a deep prayer life? No one is exempt from this.

I truly love that I am a participant in this tremendous love story between God and man. When you next look at a crucifix, take a quiet moment and contemplate these words from Jesus: What more could I do for you?

a great find in Dayton - prayer time for Mom and play time for children

Taking The Elevator

Having realized the extraordinarily painful reality that I am weak in more ways than I can count (why does it sometimes feel like I'm drowning in them), I'm taking the elevator up to God like the Little Flower. We have all had painful times realizing our fragility. Do these times become quiescent, or do we give them right back to God?

I want to - in fact I need to - go up to the next level on this little elevator - in the arms of Jesus.

When I go running, I give everything - pushing my legs and my will to keep going, foot in front of the other and not stop until I have reached the set goal. These times are of incredible value to me. There is no 'noise'. I can talk to God; and the shock of it all, God responds. And so I've climbed aboard the elevator and I'm determined to stay there. If I give my best fish and finest bread (which really are mealy small fish and crumbly deflated loaves of bread), then Jesus will raise me one floor at a time until I'm Home. The majority of the time is spent practicing humility, patience and forgiveness. Most of all it means I must choose love - ignoring the knee jerk reactions that plague my human heart, and making acts of trust in Him.

Jesus, I trust in You!