Yesterday, I dragged took my family downtown to watch the local St. Patrick’s Day parade. It was a really wonderful time, and no one complained more than I had anticipated they would.  I took several pictures of the festivities, including this one:

It’s nice, isn’t it?  Thousands of people wearing green, the street almost cleared of revelers, and the pipe band making its way toward us.  I was glad to share the scene with my children.

Except, apparently, my youngest had seen things differently.  A few times during the parade, I had let him snap his own pictures, and what he saw was slightly different from what I saw.  For example:

Look at those cars plowing into the crowd!

I like police cars!  I even like off-center police cars!  

It’s silly!  It’s string!  It’s Silly String!

These were all details I had overlooked.  In fact, I could study these pictures endlessly to try to figure out how my child sees the world, but I think it would all boil down to seeing everything as new, exciting, and silly.

Diving deep into my phone’s camera roll produced all sorts of interesting views on our world that I frequently overlook.  There was the series of 30+ picture of me doing Zumba that were unceremoniously deleted.  There were the pictures of messy corners of my house that I prefer to overlook.

And then there were the series of self-portraits that defy description.  Here is a small sampling:

If there is anything I hope to learn from my children, it’s how to see the wonder, excitement, and fun in the everyday ordinary stuff that makes up our lives.  Perhaps also the art of the self-portrait.

Well, I’m in the thick of it. Smack dab in the middle of Lent. Admittedly, things are not going as I had planned.

First off, apparently some (ahem) people believe that when a friend gives up facebook for Lent, her Timeline (formerly known as her wall) becomes a open for graffiti.

Coincidentally, my husband changed our phone service, but there is a slight lag, so our phone number changed for a few days (with good luck it will change back). During that lag, Jim tried to call me, but he was convinced that I was so upset with him that I blocked his number. Not at all true! I was happy for the advice about foot odor from someone who so obviously has ample experience with the problem. And now that he has tracked me down, I have learned that a new gem awaits me when I return to facebook for my Sunday break.

Secondly, I had planned some nice exercise and field trip things for me and my littles. There were also those million cute little craft ideas from Pinterest. Instead, we have become ill, one by one. Life has been a whirl of fever, coughing, up-chucking, and exhaustion. (Side note, most good pediatricians keep spare pants in their office in case an appointment lasts so stinking long that your child has a toileting accident. Now you know.) So we have been trapped in the living room, watching Octonauts and Star Wars and reading novels about the wives of Henry VIII.  (Click on those links, BTW.)

I should have taken this spare time to dig deep into The Purpose Driven Life.    I have failed. I am currently two days behind. I had been reading it with breakfast in the morning when I normally would have been facebooking. Of course, there was illness, which meant no trips to school, which meant breakfast was pushed later into the morning and sometimes consisted of leftover crackers or an apple.

In any case, reading five minutes worth of material each day has defeated me. How sad is that? And Jim, after tracking me down, compounded my guilt by mentioning that people had actually read my last blog post and commented on it. And none of those people was my mom.

So I skimmed today’s reading (or, rather, Saturday’s reading) about surrender being the heart of worship. I admit readily that I am confused and uncertain about Rick Warren’s use of the term “worship,” and his clarification left me feeling a little more disconnected from his book. It is always possible that I don’t want to think about worship or have my ideas about it challenged. Or, you know, the sick kids and Henry VIII and foot odor problems. It’s really hard to say at this point.

And isn’t that always the way. We have the best of intentions, and then other stuff happens. Now I have the added possibility that four people, three more than I had assumed, might read this post, and I will be all the more answerable. How this entire episode will turn out, no one can say.

If you’ve gotten this far into the post, maybe you can tell me how you keep yourself honest when you make well-intended plans. Also, it must be more than declaring it on the internet. Apparently that doesn’t work for me.

Today marks the beginning of Lent, the 40 days leading up to Easter, my favorite holiday. I love Easter . It has the religious cache of Christmas without the expense, the stress, and the busyness. So I would take the fasting of Lent always over the daily dose of waxy Advent calendar chocolate.

I try to take something on during Lent in addition to giving something up, mostly because I actually love fish and it doesn’t seem like much of a sacrifice. This Friday, for example, we are going to a walleye fish fry, which will be delicious. I suppose chasing the children and worrying about their public table manners is something of a sacrifice, but really, I digress.

This year, sort of on a whim, I decided to reread Rick Warren’s The Purpose Driven Life. The last time I read it and confessed such to a variety of friends, I received a mixed reaction. Some of my friends had read it and thought it was a wonderful book. Jim liked it enough, but didn’t think it was terribly enlightening. Other people didn’t like the idea of the book much less the book or Rick Warren or book covers with trees on them. (I don’t really remember the precise rationale.) Since this blog only has one reader, I am unsure how she will react to my admission that I am reading The Purpose Driven Life. Maybe she will leave a comment to let me know. It’s hard to tell.

I am interested to see how this reading goes. Since the book is written in 40 parts, it will help me keep track of the days of Lent, which is a good thing. It will also give me something to do at 5:30 am when I am used to checking facebook (the thing I gave up for Lent). I am hoping to keep up with it this time around. The last time around I sort of failed when I got to the section on Fellowship. It may be that I didn’t have a good frame of reference for the concept of Fellowship, or it could be that the word Fellowship makes me think of doughnuts and it’s hard to read and think about doughnuts. In any case, it will be interesting.

Today’s chapter of the book began with, “It’s not about you,” which is exquisite because I have managed to make this post all about me.

It’s really about Lent and Ash Wednesday and making our way, the best we know how, to the Resurrection. So, dear reader, what are you doing to observe this Lent?

That’s just a random cute picture of my kid.

All over the facebook, wonderfully spiritual friends and family members have been posting a video entitled “Why I hate religion but love Jesus.”  I get it.  I understand that people become disillusioned with religion when it seems to stray from the teachings of Jesus.  I, too, get frustrated when people protest funerals or start wars or refuse medical treatments citing Christianity as the reason.  Jesus never wanted that stuff, and we all know it.

In my heart of hearts, however, I believe that Jesus came to earth not only to minister to those in Roman-occupied Israel, but also to set up a ministry that would last on earth beyond his time here.  This ministry is the Church, and I am proud to raise my children to uphold and carry on her traditions and dogma.  Make no mistake, I love my Church, and I feel warmth and gladness about other people who participate joyfully in their churches as well.

My response is pale and weak compared to this masterful response put together by our friends at Phatmass.  Check it out!

 

My Sunday morning routine has remained the same for a very long time.  I like to sleep in.  If you are over, I will make us a big unhealthy breakfast including at least two types of fat laden meats.  And when “Meet the Press” comes on, you will be shushed incessantly if you try to converse with me.  Now my personal opinion is that the show has slipped a bit since the death of Tim Russert (God rest his soul) but it is so deeply entrenched in my Sunday routine, “Meet the Press” still remains despite a lower standard of moderation.

This morning was no different.  While having my coffee and eating my sausage, bacon and lard sandwich,  I watched the new Chief of Staff Jack Lew talk about the contraception debate that has occurred this week.  If you haven’t heard anything about this, allow me to catch you up.  President Obama’s healthcare mandate requires all employers to provide health insurance for the employees that includes free contraception to all female employees.  While religious institutions are exempt, institutions that are affiliated with religions are not.  What does that mean?  Catholic schools, colleges and hospitals would have to provide contraception even though our faith is diametrically opposed to contraception.  It’s no surprise that the bishops have had a few comments on this.

Now please don’t misunderstand me, this blog post is not about the controversy of separation of church and state.  It is not about contraception or why the Church opposes the use of it. 

Well what’s the post about then?

Good question.

During the interview Chief of Staff Jack Lew was asked point blank if it was a good idea to have this mandate when they knew it would create such a firestorm.  His response was “We believe that women have the right to preventative health care”.   This is when I threw up a little in my mouth.  I immediately went to Wikipedia (which is the source of all unimpeachable knowledge) to find a definition of Preventative Health Care

Preventive medicine or preventive care refers to measures taken to prevent diseases,[1] (or injuries) rather than curing them or treating their symptoms. The term contrasts in method with curative and palliative medicine, and in scope with public health methods (which work at the level of population health rather than individual health).

 Do you see where I’m going with this? For the first time in my life, I heard a representative of the President of the United States list pregnancy in the category of disease.

Aren’t you overreacting?  He probably made a mistake when he called it preventative health care. 

On five separate times, when he was asked directly about contraception, he said “women have the right to preventative health care”.  Five times.  Once would be a mistake, five times is a White House directive.  No one who represents the President of the United States repeats a term five times without it being strategic and intentional.  The White House has redefined pregnancy as a disease.

While I have no real power to do so, let me speak on behalf of the Catholic Church with regards to preventative health care.  The Catholic Church is 100% for it.  Preventing diseases?  The Church will provide funding to Catholic hospitals and universities to look for new ways to prevent illnesses like heart disease and diabetes. The Church has been doing that for a very long time.  But let’s be clear, the Church does not see pregnancy as a disease.

I have my friends whom I love and respect who use contraception.  We can debate the pros and cons of the issue and I will continue to love and respect them as they hopefully do with me.  But I pray that we can all agree on one simple thing.

Pregnancy is not a disease.

From bednets to classrooms to protecting public health, we could all help make the world a better place this Christmas.

The line between seeing motherhood as a sacred task and allowing it to take over everything seems to be a thin one. Before my first child was born, I believed that I would do everything for my child, he would be grateful, and then world would become a better place. It really seemed that simple. When he was born, I got wound up in doing everything for him and allowing myself almost no room for anything else.

I can’t say I wasn’t warned. He was a few days old when we visited my colleagues at what would become my former place of employment, and one co-worker asked to hold him. She gave me a very serious look and said, “You do know that you need to get out and do other things besides taking care of the baby?”

I thought, “I don’t think so, lady. Give me that baby back.” I didn’t say that but instead nodded my head the way we all do after receiving unwanted parenting advice.

In my defense, I had extenuating circumstances. My husband was on military deployment until the munchkin was 10 months old, and I felt compelled to give him the attention of two parents. Plus, since I didn’t have a parenting partner, “getting out” seemed too difficult.

So I convinced myself that motherhood was the most important thing. It was far more important than the other things which had nothing to do with protecting a helpless person who would be responsible for taking care of me in my old age. It was the king of all important things.

Yep, I had crossed the line, making an idol of my own motherhood.

Finally, 8 months into the Most Important Thing Ever, I broke. And Dairy Queen did it to me. I really wanted a blizzard, but taking the grabby baby and trying to eat a blizzard one-handed was at the bottom of my fun list. My mother came over, and I waxed poetic about the beauty and joy of eating blizzards without babies. She responded by telling me to go get a blizzard, and I did. I got into my car, without the baby, drove to Dairy Queen, and ate my Georgia Mud Fudge Blizzard like motherhood was a distant memory.

After building motherhood into a sort of religion, bowing to it as though it were a golden calf, I abandoned it for some ice cream, chocolate, and a bit of fudge.

I think I am a better mother now because I understand that motherhood is an important task, but it’s not the only important task. It is also a task that changes as my children grow, and to treat it as The Most Important Thing is to deny my children their own autonomy.

Making motherhood an idol also gives children an erroneous sense of their own importance. My kids are special and wonderful, true children of God whom I love dearly. However, they are not the only special, wonderful children of God. Sometimes I need to do other things for other people, and my children need to see me leaving them to tend to others’ needs. I hope I am teaching them that in this world, we all need to take care of each other.

After all, motherhood is not a thing at all. It is something I do as part of my vocation as a wife, as a member of my family, and as part of my church, my community, and my world. And it is one of many things I am called to do.

Sometimes, in my pre-Dairy Queen days, I would justify my exaltation of motherhood by pointing to Mary. While she was blessed among all mothers, she also knew enough to perform the tasks of motherhood as part of her purpose on earth. When Jesus grew up and began ministering, she did not make herself important by pointing to her job as his mother, but instead she knew how to follow. And had there been Dairy Queen in the Roman Empire, she probably would have stopped there, too.

 

In our 24 hour “got to have the latest” consumption of current events, Fox, CNN and all the other 24 hour news machines are thrilled when there is an ongoing story that doesn’t go away and has new things happening every day.  They don’t come  along that often but when they do, it must be a wonderful break for news producers that otherwise literally have to create something newsworthy to fill the void.  Such is the current case of the Occupy Movement.  It started on Wall Street and has grown to most major metropolitan areas and many universities.  What started this outcry against the wealthy was the “just bailed out” banks becoming solvent and to celebrate, they decided to charge user fees for debit cards.  This created an avalanche of anger and frustration towards the “1%” whose lives have apparently gotten better while the quality of life for the rest of us has apparently gone to hell in a handbasket.  While it may appear that I may have some misgivings about the Occupy movement (I do), I completely recognize the fact that while the value of my house has plummeted, my property taxes have somehow increased.  While my annual income has diminished, the price of bacon, eggs and velveeta has skyrocketed. There is no doubt that it costs much more to live a much less extravagant  lifestyle.

But here is the problem that I have with the Occupy movement.  And the Motley Fool succinctly puts it into perspective.  

In short, most of those protesting in the Occupy Wall Street movement would be considered wealthy — perhaps extraordinarily wealthy — by much of the world. Many of those protesting the 1% are, ironically, the 1%

That’s right, the middle class that the Occupy Movement’s trying to save is a part of the one percent.  Don’t believe me? Feel free to visit this site  and put in your last year’s income.  It will most likely be eye opening.  Comparing our salaries to those around us can make us bitter and angry.  However if we compare our lives against those in developing nations, it can make us humble and maybe even a little ashamed.   

In 1993 I lived in a mission in Guatemala.  I didn’t know any Spanish when I moved down there and was very much a fish out of water.  There was a young girl of 15 who lived at the orphanage named Julianna, and she befriended me.  She would help me practice my Spanish and find things for me that were “missing” when the other orphans came to visit.  She would laugh at my mispronunciations and tease me when I would do something dumb.  In short she was a great kid who was the highlight of many of my days in Guatemala.  After a while (and after my Spanish got better) she told me the story of how she came to the orphanage.  

When she was 10, she was living with her parents and three younger siblings in a cornstalk hut in the mountains.  One of the people in her village had gotten mad at her father and told the army that he was a guerrilla sympathizer.  This was considered treason, and if the army decided you were supporting the guerrillas, you were immediately executed.   She told me that the army came and visited their hut in the middle of the night and tied her parents to a tree.  The army tortured the parents in front of the children to force a confession.  When the parents refused, they shot the parents, took the children and barricaded them in the hut and set it on fire.  Julianna, at the ripe old age of 10, got all three of her younger siblings out of the house and escaped into the mountains.  They were found a day or so later and brought to the orphanage where all four of them lived safely.  

My time in Guatemala and certainly my time with Julianna gave me a gift I still use today.  It’s called perspective.  Since my time in Guatemala, I’ve gone through jobs, unemployment, health issues and financial crisis. And when I’ve started to become angry or bitter, I think about Julianna and I realize that there are people who have touched my life that have had it much much worse.  The members of the Occupy Movement may have some valid arguments about injustice in their lives, but they lack the perspective that I received from Julianna.  They fail to understand that even someone who is living on foodstamps and unemployment is living like royalty compared to most of the seven billion people on this planet.  Don’t get me wrong, if my eyes hadn’t been opened to true poverty, I might be one of those people setting up tents and holding signs.  

Advent has begun.  We are called to prepare and make straight the pathways of the Lord.  And while the economy still stinks and Velveeta prices are going through the roof, I think that it will be perspective that will help me to prepare for the coming of our Lord.  It will be perspective that will keep me from lamenting too much about things and give me more time to make those pathways straight. 

You may have noticed that we stopped for a little bit.

Life got in the way for both of us.  Also, I wanted an excuse to post a photo of a little stop sign.

In any case, videos are hard to make, so Jim is going to be posting written works on Wednesdays.  Since Jim is the theology brains of the operation, Karen is going to post about family stuff and other things on Mondays.  Fridays will still be random.  Exciting news, isn’t it?  On occasion, something will warrant a video.  Videos will be made then.

I also got a new camera, so I will post more photos I take.   

Thank you, devoted reader, for having continued faith in us.

I will admit to enjoying Phineas and Ferb. It makes me chuckle on occasion. I would never, sit down on purpose to watch it on my own, though.

Today, as I watched Mickey Mouse with my 3 year old, the great parent-child television divide hit me. There are no family shows any more. Family Ties, Who’s the Boss?, and The Cosby Show are relics of an era gone by, when parents and children would sit down together at appointed times and watch a show they would all enjoy. Again, as much as I like Phineas and Ferb, it’s just not the same.

Enter the movie bug. Every few months, I get a urge to take my children to a movie. Movies can be family events since they are often cater to both parents and children. I had wanted to see Puss and Boots since I’m a big Shrek fan. My 8 year old chose The Muppets. I was a little disappointed because The Muppets is a kids show. Meh. We went.

I was wrong. I was very, very wrong. The Muppets is most definitely a family show. We all enjoyed it, although my 3 year old thought it was too long, but some candy stopped his complaining. It was light, funny, musical, and had tension. At one point, I turned to my 8 year old and said, “Oh no! What are they going to do?” He rolled his eyes. Apparently he understands Hollywood better than I do.

Even the parts I felt were geared to the adults made my children laugh. We all enjoyed the barbershop quartet singing [REDACTED] while Jack Black yelled, “Stop it! You’re ruining a classic!” We also laughed when the chickens clucked out Cee Lo’s “Forget You.” Although, it may have been the other version. It’s hard to tell. They were chickens, after all.

The fun of a family movie is having an inside joke to bring home and laugh about. Used to be we did this around the TV once a week. I guess it’s time to find old episodes of The Muppet Show to watch.

Thanksgiving is around the corner, and right now I should really be making mashed potatoes and cleaning my house. Instead, I am writing this post.

I’ve had one of those serendipity weeks, and I am still unsure what to make of it. Part of me feels like Shug Avery, singing in the juke joint, when she hears the distant sounds of the church choir. She makes her way to the church, and joins in singing “God is Trying to Tell You Something.”

Okay, I’m not in any juke joint. I doubt I’m even in a metaphorical juke joint, unless being caught in the day-to-day minutiae of motherhood is some sort of juke joint. With Advent approaching, though, I do sometimes feel adrift. Advent is a struggle for me spiritually in ways that Lent is not. Advent gets overshadowed by twinkly lights and shopping and Santa and programs and gatherings and what have you. Lent might be occasionally interrupted with St. Patty’s day or Filet-o-Fish madness, but as far as seasons go, it holds its own.

Enter serendipity. For my birthday, my husband gave me Fr. James Martin’s The Jesuit Guide to (Almost) Everything. I’m not far, and the interruptions have been plenty, but reading about the Jesuit ideas of detachment struck me immediately. Especially in Advent, I need to be ready to let go of the trappings, the distractions, and to focus on the coming of Christ. As far as ideas go, this one isn’t terribly new, but a nice reminder nonetheless.

I have also been watching the Catholicism series. (The going has been slow because I am ill and television makes me fall asleep.) The first episode, “Happy Are We,” focuses on the teachings of Jesus, and it began with the Beatitudes. Fr. Barron discusses divides the Beatitudes into the positive and negative ones, and looking at the negative ones, notes that they are ways of being freed from what gets in the way of finding Christ in this world. I love the Beatitudes and will listen intently to anyone discussing them, but when he used the word “detachment,” my ears perked up.

Fr. Barron describes detachment as emptying ourselves of the material things and the distractions of this world in order to allow God to fill us up. And when God fills us up, we take what he gives us and give it to others. This idea of detachment, of making way for Christ and passing him on to others, leads to a discussion of Matthew 25, which is always worth quoting:

‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father. Inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me, ill and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me.’ Then the righteous^* will answer him and say, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? When did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you?When did we see you ill or in prison, and visit you?’ And the king will say to them in reply, ‘Amen, I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.’

Of course, anyone who attended mass last Sunday for the Solemnity of Christ the King knows that section of Matthew 25 was the gospel reading.

What is God trying to tell me? At a basic level, I think he is trying to tell me what he is trying to tell anyone. Prepare for the coming of Christ, focus not on this world but the next, and pass on those gifts from God.

I have to believe, though, that my life is presenting me with opportunities to fulfill God’s commands, and I am being too dense to notice them without being nudged. I have found a few small opportunities, but God, if you want me to do something big, you’ve got my attention.

By the way, my mashed potato recipe:
Yukon gold potatoes, boiled in chicken broth and garlic, and mashed with butter and whole milk.  Yum! 

Adele is up for best female artist for her rendition of the Subway jingle.

I have a couple of friends that share a kind of bizarre guilty pleasure with me.  I don’t like to own up to it but for the sake of this blog entry, I have to.  We like finding and comparing “end of the world” websites.  The ones we especially like to pay attention to are the ones where there are visionaries who talk with God. I’m not saying that we buy into them.  I compare this to folks who really get into “Bridezilla” marathons.  It’s not like you’re thinking that Rhonda’s ice cream wedding cake is a good idea, you just like the entertainment value!

 
So one particular site that we’ve been following has the end of the world coming really soon! We’re talking weeks people! And the latest message from Jesus is that all his followers will be in a new paradise on earth.  There will be no disease or poverty.  There will be peace and no need for jealousy, envy or death.  And just like when Bridezilla fans start kibbitzing over coffee, we like to talk about the hypotheticals of the new world.  Is there going to be cable?  Will the X Factor declare everyone a winner? Can I still go to McDonalds?  Along with a plethora of other questions.  

But the one thing we focused on this week was what would we do for jobs? I looked at my job resume and realized that if and when Jesus created a new kingdom on Earth, I would have no applicable skill sets.  

Not to brag or anything but I’ve had several successful career paths over the course of my life.  For one decade I was a pretty good youth minister.  But I would imagine in Jesus’ new kingdom on Earth, there wouldn’t be any call for that.  Youth ministry exists mostly for teens who aren’t getting enough spiritual guidance (for many reasons) from their families.  In the New World, I’m pretty sure that would be resolved. I spent a decade working in the prison and security industry.  Again I was pretty good at it and I’m quite certain there wouldn’t be any jails in Jesus’ new world.

Currently I’m working with students with autism and getting my master’s in Special Education.  If this website was correct and Jesus is setting up shop soon, my students will have no need for me anymore. The disabilities that have made it difficult for them in society would be gone forever.  They would no longer need my help in coping skills.  

I know the chances of these websites being correct are about as good as me winning the lottery this weekend.  But we do believe that someday, Jesus will come back and rule over heaven AND earth.  We believe that it will not be an end but a new beginning.  This is the ultimate result of Christ coming and redeeming our lives on the Cross.  And don’t get me wrong, I’d be thrilled if it happened sooner than later.

But I’m pretty sure I’d be unemployed.

Photo Friday!  Make of this what you will.  But make your captions elbow-lickin’ good!