Posted in family life, musings

rambling thoughts on taxes and God’s provision

Sometimes, I get these waves of anxiety about our finances (triggered by things like taxes or unexpected expenses). Maybe because I’m the primary breadwinner for our family right now, I tend to worry that I’m not providing well enough, and that something might come up that we wouldn’t be able to handle. I wonder if I’ve made the right choices with regards to my education or my job, or I feel guilty about buying something special, like a carton of ice cream or a shelf. But when I calm myself down and look at my circumstances, I see that those worries are small and insignificant in light of all the abundant ways God has provided for us this year. Remembering those things – focusing on His provision – helps to clear the worry from my mind and replace it with gratitude.

We are blessed by having both our extended families in town, helping us to avoid childcare expenses and (more importantly!) giving the boys deep and special relationships outside of the nuclear family. My parents in particular have blessed us by opening their house to us as often as we want to visit them, and filling up their living room with the timeless toys they’ve saved for all these years. We probably drive over at least once a week so the boys can play in the big house and the big yard with different but still familiar toys, and my parents are gracious enough to make dinner for us when we visit as well! Their generosity has also extended to special times of need in our lives – like when our station wagon needed repairs and they helped pay for the replacement parts, or when my hard drives died and my dad bought me a new one for my birthday (using the birthday as a convenient excuse, I am sure, to make sure I got a better and more reliable hard drive than I might have on my own).

My job has been a blessing as well, even though the salary is low, because it covers my husband’s tuition costs, gives us high-quality, low-cost health insurance, and even subsidizes a bus pass so that we’ve been able to save on fuel and vehicle maintenance.

Our home has also been a huge blessing to us financially: because of God’s past provision, we were able to buy a few years back when the market was still low, so our monthly payments are much lower than they would be if we were still renting, and that is a huge relief. Our location gives us access to many free or inexpensive places to take the boys – the library, multiple parks, Main Street (which is currently extra exciting due to the Christmas tree!), the children’s museum, the dinosaur museum, the fire station, the arts center (which is actually a really neat place to explore) and so on. So our finances haven’t prevented us from giving those experiences to the boys, which something else to be incredibly thankful for.

And honestly, we’ve always had enough so that I didn’t have to worry about groceries or utilities. When I hear of or know people who struggle to make ends meet, to the point where electricity is turned off or they have to skip meals, my little financial worries are put into perspective. We have so much. We have as much as we need, and enough to give to others as well, and any lack is more than made up for by the richness of our family and community. I wouldn’t want to give up my time with the boys for a higher-paying job, or put them in daycare so that my husband could work while finishing school. I don’t regret any of the decisions I’ve made to get us to this point, because I think they were all for the best for our marriage, our children, and our pursuit of God – so I really shouldn’t worry about whether or not He will provide for us. He always has, and He always will.

Posted in musings, phfr

{pretty, happy, funny, real} – the beginnings of Advent

Advent is blossoming slowly in our home this year, growing from the seed of a single candle, small and lonely in the darkness, but bearing the power of eternal hope. There’s been a lot more “real” than “pretty” or “happy” this week but I’m realizing that Advent doesn’t have to be a big or glamorous production to invite wonder into my heart or introduce the hushed anticipation of the season to my children.

For me, the most beauty has come in re-discovering the ancient Advent hymns, including one of my all-time favorites:

Let all mortal flesh keep silence,
And with fear and trembling stand;
Ponder nothing earthly minded,
For with blessing in His hand,
Christ our God to earth descending
Comes our homage to demand.

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King of kings, yet born of Mary,
As of old on earth He stood,
Lord of lords, in human vesture,
In the body and the blood;
He will give to all the faithful
His own self for heavenly food.

Rank on rank the host of heaven
Spreads its vanguard on the way,
As the Light of light descendeth
From the realms of endless day,
Comes the powers of hell to vanquish
As the darkness clears away.

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At His feet the six winged seraph,
Cherubim with sleepless eye,
Veil their faces to the presence,
As with ceaseless voice they cry:
Alleluia, Alleluia
Alleluia, Lord Most High!

I love how it weaves together the themes of all His comings – the Incarnation at Christmas, His coming into each of our lives as our Lord and King, His presence with us in the Eucharist, and His Second Coming when He will completely conquer sin and death. Though right now we’re specifically remembering the waiting for His birth, there’s a sense in which we both wait for Him and meet Him every day – hailing Him as our Lord, consuming Him in the bread and the wine, longing for Him to come finally and fully heal and redeem all things.

In the meantime, while we wait, we do the little things we can do remember Him and prepare for His coming. I may not have a beautiful handmade wreath this year, but I can get out my plastic evergreen backup wreath and still light the candles and sing the hymns and point my eyes to heaven. I may not have any sort of tree to use for the Jesse Tree devotional, but I can still read the stories with my children and see how God has been writing His plan of salvation through all the pages of history.

He is coming. Into this darkness, He is coming with hope. And I, in my brokenness and inadequacy and sin, am holding desperately onto that hope. In this crossroads between my reality and His promises, I am finding the heart of Advent this year.

(Joined to the link-up at Like Mother, Like Daughter today – the theme is Advent this week, and everyone’s first beginnings of the season, so there should be a lot of beauty there.)

Posted in musings

the eucharist

I’m hungry for it.

I sat in church Sunday night and sang the Advent songs and read the corporate prayers from centuries past and listened to the pastor preaching on the redemptive hope God brings to the most unlikely people and my heart was filled with a deep ache, a powerful longing, a thirst and a hunger.

They called us up for Communion and they didn’t say what they normally say – that the bread and the wine represent the body and blood of Christ. No, they quoted Jesus and said that it is His body and His blood and I thought, “I wish it was.”

The nature of the Eucharist was (and maybe still is) the strangest of all Catholic doctrines to me when I first encountered it; like the disciples in John 6, it almost made me want to turn away because it is so hard to understand and accept. We’ve had centuries of Christians trying to explain it away when maybe we should be taking it seriously… I thought maybe I would just forget about it and instead study the other points of difference, and wait to see how God would move.

And sitting in a Protestant church, I felt an incredibly deep hunger for the presence of God – to feel Him in me, tangibly, here and now, because here and now is where and when I need Him, in my weakness and in my sin. Broken, I need His wholeness; thirsty, I need His living water; struggling, I need His grace. As I sat there, I hungered for His body, broken for me, for the true Presence of Christ in the Eucharist. I’m not even sure if I believe it yet, intellectually, but emotionally my heart was telling me that I need it.

Sigh.

Show me Your way, Lord, and light my path with Your Word, that my feet might not stray from the truth. I know that You are true, and righteous, and holy; draw me near to You.

Posted in family life, musings

facing thanksgiving with a mood disorder

While the general joy of the holiday season begins to creep upon me beginning with Halloween and my birthday, the anxiety of it doesn’t really start for me until now, in the week between Limerick’s birthday and Thanksgiving. I don’t know if everyone has to fight down panic attacks during the holiday season, or intentionally pursue joy while the black tentacles of depression and apathy are pulling them down; I don’t know if everyone feels trapped between the potential of the season and the expectations for the season, faced with a list of people to visit and chores to complete, wondering where the beauty and the significance went. I would imagine there are a lot of us, but I personally only know one other person with any certainty.

With that in mind, what I want to do is to ask the rest of you to be kind and gracious: to realize that we really do love being with family, participating in the festivities, carrying on the fun or meaningful traditions we’ve built with you over the years, but that sometimes the weight of it all is just to great for us to carry. Sometimes the chaos of a joyful family is too overwhelming, the social pressure too intense, the smells and sounds and expectations a perfect storm that threatens all our normal coping mechanisms. When we have to leave early, or take a few moments of solitude to recalibrate, or drop out of the conversation and activity for a while, it’s not because we don’t want to be with you. Will you believe me when I say we’re making a huge effort to be there with you, because we love you and you matter to us?

And for anyone who’s trying to navigate the holidays through anxiety or depression, I feel you. I’ve been there – some years more so than others – and there really isn’t anything positive about it. It’s incredibly hard to stay engaged for hours of small talk, with stress-inducing levels of ambient noise and who knows what other irritants (low light and allergens, anyone?), when your insides feel like a black void or when every defense system in your body is on high alert. It hurts to try so hard to be happy and present only to end up feeling like you’ve failed, and ruined the holidays for someone else.

So please don’t feel guilty about taking the space you need to be you, to be joyful, to remember the big ideals or the little traditions that are meaningful and important to you as an individual. Please don’t feel guilty about advocating for yourself and your own well-being – if it helps, think that there are probably others who will be glad you spoke up because they’re running on fumes as well.

You are loved. You matter. Even if you can only be around for five minutes on Thanksgiving Day because you’re having an episode or an attack, the day will be brighter for everyone else because of those five minutes. When you’re fighting for each moment, sharing it with another person is one of the most precious and valuable gifts imaginable, and anyone who understands will value it accordingly.

Posted in musings

conversions

I don’t think we give converts enough credit (or, perhaps, enough patience).

Those of us who grew up in the church, do we really understand the immensity of declaring a changed worldview? Even after the change has occurred (in that slow, subtle, steady way that people usually change), the declaration is still a drastic and public event. If the convert is coming from a family or immersed in a culture that looks down on their new beliefs, it’s even harder. They know the questions that will be coming – and even worse, the silent looks, the whispered judgments, the unspoken assumptions.

Let us all give each other the grace to change at our own speed, and the courtesy not to assume we know exactly what those changes entail when they come. But let us also pray for the courage to be honest about our own changes, and not hide behind a comfortable mask as our true self morphs into something else.

Posted in family life, musings

walking in hope

Sometimes God answers your prayers for discernment and direction by shutting the door you’d hoped to walk through.

My husband and I received one of those answers yesterday and responded by watching “Inside Out” and eating almost a whole batch of Smitten Kitchen’s chocolate caramel crack. (Which is pretty much the best stuff ever for dealing with disappointment, or just for enjoying on the sly every time you walk past the freezer where you’re trying to save it for holiday gifts…).

It’s just, sometimes the path in front of us is beautiful and we can’t wait to walk forward on it, and sometimes it’s an ugly and desolate road. Sometimes it’s a smooth and level walkway, and sometimes it’s a steep and rocky trail. And the thing is, it’s easier to endure for the long haul when the surroundings are pleasant and the walking is easy. It’s easier to sing songs on the trail and stop to take pictures of the scenery when you’re not laboring just to catch your breath with every step.

The hardest path I ever had to walk was through the darkness of depression. Knowing that God brought me through that treacherous valley gives me hope that He’ll bring me through this desert as well. They’re very different places, but the need to endure is the same, and the God who gives strength is the same.

I’m not going to deny that I was upset by God’s answer to this prayer we had offered up to Him. God doesn’t need me to pretend that I’m happy or that I understand when I’m not and I don’t. But I’m also not going to act as though this “no” defines my life right now, or let it color every other “yes” that He’s given me. He has blessed us in abundance, and if He chooses not to bless us in this way that we had hoped for, it will be ok. We will keep hoping and keep trusting, as we have been for the past few years, and we will keep working with patience and endurance on the pathway He’s given us.

It seems like a long, straight, foggy road these days. Stretching onward, infinitely onward, perhaps – although for all I can see, it could turn at any moment. I just keep putting one foot in front of the other, day in and day out, walking down the road, in hope.

Posted in musings

love, fear, and inauthenticity (brief thoughts on a huge topic)

It seems to me, from casual observation, that many (perhaps most!) people feel intensely pressured to think, act, feel, and be a certain way, to fit a certain role or social expectation. We’re scared to truly be themselves because we’re afraid of what people might think or how people might respond, so we limit ourselves to the parts of ourselves that we think will be approved, and try to force the other parts down into hiding. And the pressures can come from all sides, making it even worse. For instance:

…a relatively reserved and morally conservative young adult may feel unable to admit his homosexual feelings for fear of disappointing his parents, whom he loves deeply, but after acknowledging them may find it equally hard to express his desire to stay celibate when the gay community that has given him encouragement and relief from his feeling of being isolated pushes promiscuity and sexual experimentation.

…a young mother, torn between wanting to maintain her career and to stay at home with her babies, may feel so overwhelmed by the “should’s” thrown at her (e.g., you should stay at work and contribute to the economy, to show your children that women don’t need to be tied to family and home! or on the other hand, you should stay at home because your children need your attention and time to develop to their fullest potential and why would you have kids anyways if you’re just going to pay someone else to raise them?) that she can’t even reach down to identify what choice would be most true to herself and her own unique personality and desires.

…a newlywed struggling with her marriage might feel social pressure to make everything look ok, while inwardly she’s drowning in confusion and sorrow, and try to bury the “inappropriate” feelings deep inside her so that no one will know and think less of her or be disappointed in her.

We see it in each other, adults all grown up in our inauthenticity, hiding the “unpleasant” and “uncomfortable” parts of ourselves in the deepest and farthest reaches of our hearts – which may be good for casual relationships and acquaintances, but isn’t sustainable in our closest, most intimate friendships. Our inauthenticity will smother our joy, wither our hope, and weaken our faith; it will poison our own hearts and sabotage our relationships with the people we love the most. It’s ironic and tragic, isn’t it? Our efforts to protect ourselves and the people we love from the “bad” things inside us just end up causing more pain and more isolation, and our fear – fear of rejection, fear of hurting the people we love, fear of letting down everyone who’s expecting something great from us – speaks its own self-fulfilling prophecy.

And what I’ve noticed is that it is typically the people we love the most, who mean the most to us, who create in us the strongest feelings of unworthiness and give rise to our wildest inauthenticities. We’re willing to sacrifice our very selves, who we are in the fullest sense of being, to keep them happy, because we love them so much – and most of the time (barring cases of abusive or psychopathic relationships here) it would devastate them to know that we were doing that. These people whose rejection and disappointment we fear (our parents, our friends, our spouses) typically love us just as much or more than we love them, and they want to see us live in fullness and joy. If only they knew – if only we could tell them! – that sometimes joy comes through suffering… that the sun can only rise after the night has spent its full course… that our “dark” and “bad” feelings need to be spoken before they can be healed.

Posted in family life, musings

unplanned pregnancies

I found out via Facebook that one of my young cousins is expecting a baby. She’s 21 now, so it’s not exactly a teen pregnancy, but she isn’t married to her baby’s father and neither of them have much in the way of education or career prospects, and they’re both still living at home. It doesn’t take much intelligence to deduce that this wasn’t a planned pregnancy.

But if my first reaction is to think, “how could she make such a stupid choice? why would she have s*x before getting married anyway? doesn’t she know that’s how babies happen? she should have made sure she was in a better financial position before moving ahead with a family” – then I really don’t believe, in my heart of hearts, the full truth of the pro-life position.

If, then, my second thought is along the lines of, “at least she’s keeping the baby instead of killing it – but this is going to make her life so much harder, and it won’t be good for the baby either, and honestly she deserves it for her foolish choices that brought this baby into existence in the first place” – then all my words about how babies are a blessing from God, how every baby should be valued and fought for and given the love of its parents, are empty and hypocritical.

Was it a poor choice to be intimate before marriage? Undoubtedly – there’s a reason God commands us not to do that. But that doesn’t mean everything that follows from that poor choice is a punishment, consequence, or negative outcome. God is in the business of forgiveness and redemption, after all, and maybe this gift of new life is part of His plan of giving grace and renewing all things.

Is it foolish, in the estimation of this world, to have a child before finances and jobs and future plans are all figured out? Yes, of course! Financial security is the idol of our culture, and a baby makes establishing that security more difficult than just about anything else. But God tells us that a baby is a blessing, not a curse: that the love that baby brings, and the joy of making a family, and the virtues that bloom as a family grows while following Him, are worth more than anything money could promise. Better is a dinner of herbs where love is, and all that. To set aside this opportunity for multiplied love in the name of money – to close our hearts and our bodies to a great blessing and pursue our own comfort and convenience instead – that is truly foolish.

Will having a baby right now make her life harder? Of course, of course it will. No matter when a baby comes, it makes life harder for its parents! Rather than glossing over her choice to keep the baby and focusing on her choices before the baby was conceived – rather than emphasizing her mistakes, in other words – our heart as pro-life Christians should be to praise her, to thank God for her courage and her strength, that despite the incredible hardship this baby may bring her as an unmarried, uneducated mother, she chose the right and the good at the cost of her comfort and convenience. She didn’t try to hide her mistakes, but let the world see, and know, and judge her, because she knew that the life of her baby was worth more than the pain of their judgments.

If we are truly pro-life, we will stand with my cousin and other women like her, without judging her for her mistakes, or shaming her for her “foolish, unplanned pregnancy”, or whispering behind her back about the stupidity and lack of character in these poor women who conceive children out of wedlock. Instead, we will congratulate her for the miracle of new life growing within her womb. We will praise her for the moral fiber and courage it took to choose life for that tiny and vulnerable baby over whom she held complete power and face the judgment of both the moralists and the materialists. And we will offer her whatever help she needs to continue to build a beautiful and blessed life for her baby and her family, for as long as she needs it.

Posted in family life

how to love my family – reminders for myself and a story

Been mulling over some thoughts this weekend that I’ll hopefully have the chance to write up soon – they’re a bit too heavy for a single blog post, so I’ll need to plan out exactly how I want to address them.

In the meantime, I’m thankful for unexpected October rains, and some cooler weather at last, and sons who love each other, and a husband who takes care of me when I’m feeling down. I’ve been selfish and impatient and my family has been so understanding and forgiving. This attitude that they have towards me – that I’m human and imperfect and trying my best to love them, so they’ll keep loving me no matter what – is the same one I want to have toward them. My tips for myself?

Always assume they had the best possible motivation.

Always assume they want to reconcile after an argument or hurt feelings.

Don’t take their feelings or words personally (especially when they’re tired or hungry!).

Renew trust, remain patient, and extend grace.

Remember that little expressions of love – a hug, a smile, an extra five minutes doing something together – can brighten the whole day.

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running to daddy in the rain

When Rondel was about 3 months old I remember a horrible night where I was exhausted and my husband was working and Rondel was so overtired that he wouldn’t go to sleep but was screaming and tossing and turning and just wanted to nurse and my body was so sore and worn out that I couldn’t take it anymore and I lost it: I yelled at him to shut up and go to sleep, or something along those lines, and set him on the bed and left the room for a few minutes to try to pull myself together. Sometime not too long after I was telling someone this story and the appalled look in their eyes devastated me. It was confirmation that I was a failure as a mother, that I had somehow ruined my relationship with my son or broken some sacred trust.

But today, my son comes running to me with an ear-to-ear smile and glowing eyes when he sees me come into the room. His little voice announces my presence with excitement when I come down from putting his brother to sleep for a nap upstairs. When something isn’t quite right in his world, his safe place is by my side or in my arms, snuggling up to me, drawing strength from my strength as the adult, the rock, the haven in his life.

Our mistakes, our failures, the things we regret, the broken moments – they are not the whole story, or the end of the story, when there is love. I didn’t continue to yell at my baby, those years ago; I chose to apologize, and speak with tenderness, and rebuild the trust in our relationship. So I know that when I lose my patience today, he will continue to love and trust me – and he knows that when I lose my patience today, it is not a way of life but a mistake and a shortcoming, and that he can expect gentleness and unconditional love tomorrow (or even in five minutes…).

And this is a confirmation of my hope that our intent to love well, and our efforts to love well, are not in vain: that my son has begun to extend grace and gentleness to me when I tell him I’m not feeling well, toning down his play and his demands to what I can handle; he has started to treat his brother with tenderness and love, adjusting his exuberant affection to the softer touch a baby needs; and he has learned to express his own needs with calm respect for both himself and the people he needs to help him, instead of with the desperate panic of an anxious and overwhelmed infant. It is encouragement to continue the hard path of unconditional love and gentle guidance, to pick myself up from a bad day and begin again with intentionality, self-discipline, and grace.

There is love, and there has been love, and there will be love, running along all the delicate strands of the intricate web of our family life, because they were built in love and can only be maintained by love. And Christ who is love is the master planner and the great sustainer of it all, of our family and of all families who seek to love and to follow Him, and He will not let us fall or fail.

Posted in family life, musings

happy feelings

What is the sweetest feeling in the world?

The feeling of toddler arms wrapped around your neck, a soft cheek snuggled up to yours, and a little warm body pressed up against you as your son hugs you with all the strength in his body.


What is the most thrilling feeling in the world?

The feeling of mixed apprehension and pride as your baby swings himself around to slide off a couch that is higher than he is tall, and lowers himself carefully down, and lands, and stands, and turns to face you with triumph on his face!


What is the happiest feeling in the world?

The feeling of receiving love in the affirming words of your husband, letting you know how much he values the effort you make to parent well, after a hard and emotionally challenging day.


It’s hard not to be grateful and at peace with moments like these in my life, even when circumstances are difficult or frustrating. God has blessed me so richly with the people He’s placed around me!