Books for Lent and Beyond...

I grew up in a single parent household as a latchkey kid. And while I learned a great deal about self-sufficiency, I did not learn the finer domestic arts outside of basic survival skills.⁣⁣ When I married at 19, I could make a passable tuna noodle casserole, I knew how to run a washing machine, and could heat anything up in a microwave…⁣⁣
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But I also used dish soap in the dishwasher (have you done this?? It’s very cool and even more alarming to see an entire kitchen covered in several feet of bubbles)…⁣⁣
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And I once used furniture polish to make my wood floors shiny (do NOT do this if you wish to remain upright as you traverse your hallways).⁣⁣
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I’m now 45 and I still feel mildly teenage when undertaking domestic tasks, mothering, and general womanly skills. But I have improved with some help…⁣⁣
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Years ago, I stumbled upon the indomitable Leila Lawler whose writing not only entertained me but also mentored me. Her blog “Like Mother, Like Daughter” was both encouraging and challenging.⁣⁣
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I happily sat at her feet and underwent something of a domestic transformation that took me from “I really stink at this” to…⁣⁣ “Woah… my vocation is beautiful. I can’t believe I get to do this. Tell me more!”⁣⁣
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When Sophia Institute Press put her joyful wisdom into a set of books (!!!) called The Summa Domestica, I knew it was bound for my legacy bookshelf, the collection of information I wanted to bequeath to children.⁣
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I have Catholic books on birth, child rearing, homeschooling, and health (one which I wrote myself to fill a gap). But this set was missing. And now it’s not.⁣⁣
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Another gem this season from Sophia is the Lenten Cookbook from Scott Hahn. Dr. Hahn’s writing has played a significant role in the formation of my household… it only makes sense that this beautiful book should grace our shelves as well.⁣⁣
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It’s not just recipes, but rich content on the importance of fasting and the observance of the Lenten season.⁣⁣
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If you are already a domestic diva, you will still enjoy Leila’s wisdom and Dr. Hahn’s insights. Two of my favorite Catholic authors with rubber-meets-the-road guidance for your Ecclesia Domestica. 🌸 Enjoy!

Don't touch your baby...

She was born in a Catholic hospital before the nuns left. And her story testifies to why it mattered…⁣
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Born weeks early, she ran into trouble. “Code blue” was the last thing I heard before they all rushed out of the room with her.⁣ Every NICU mama knows what the next days looked like. The lights and plastic boxes with babies, charts, and alarms.⁣..
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Once, I touched her back lightly. Her O2 sat dropped, the alarms went off, and I got a harsh lecture from the doctor after they stabilized her…⁣
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“Don’t touch your baby.”⁣
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So I just watched. Every day. And since I couldn’t sleep, I watched her at night as well, rocking in the chair, wishing I could see her face uncovered from tape and tubes.⁣
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About a week into our stay, I was keeping vigil at 3am. Two nurses were at the desk that night though it was usually just one at that hour. I’d never seen them before. We were the only ones there.⁣ They approached me together and said they didn’t usually work there but took every opportunity. “We are Christians and this hospital is a blessed place. We love to be here.”⁣
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They asked if they could pray over my daughter and I said yes. I watched as they put two sets of hands into the isolette and laid them on her back…⁣
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The child who wouldn’t be touched didn’t flinch.⁣
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They praised and glorified God and they prophesied. They spoke of healing and mission. And when they were done, they turned to me…⁣
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“She’s going to be okay.” They explained…⁣
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“God protects this hospital. The sisters will not provide contraception or abortion benefits to staff… and He blesses that.”⁣
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I never saw them again. And the hospital has since passed into secular hands. But this beautiful girl continues to grow in grace. I wish those nurses could see her now.⁣
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Dear Birthday Girl…⁣
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“Rejoice always, pray constantly, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. Do not quench the Spirit, do not despise prophesying…hold fast what is good, abstain from every form of evil.⁣
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May the God of peace himself sanctify you wholly; and may your spirit and soul and body be kept sound and blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ.” - 1 Thess. 5

She was there before I was

It was a long night. My eyes would pop open, my heart would pound, and I would be painfully aware of my suffering child. I wasn’t with that child… but I knew I was walking some kind of Via Dolorosa with them from afar.

Mom grace is like that sometimes. You just know. Maybe the Holy Spirit wakes you up. Or you just know the signs. Or both.

Anyway, I felt it and grieved as I joined in the struggle. It sounds a bit dramatic, I know… but life IS sometimes dramatic. There is weeping. There is falling to the knees. And in the life of the spirit, the battle for souls is central and fierce.

So, I kept waking. And towards the early morning light, my pious prayers to Blessed Mother became ugly cries of desperation. I asked her to be with my children when I couldn’t be. To hold them. To rescue them.

Consolation came as I saw her in my mind’s eye embracing my beloved child. I was struck by her posture of deep gift. Covering, embracing, enfolding. But even more struck by one realization…

She was there before I was. She, the Spouse of the Holy Spirit, was certainly the one who woke me, not the other way around.

She is the sleepless mother who wakes with her children on her heart.

She never leaves them. And she is closest to them when they are broken and lost. I surrendered my child to her in that moment more completely than I had ever been inclined to before. And I slept.

In the weeks and months that followed, miracles unfolded for my family. And I don’t use the word “miracles” lightly. Mary was at the root of all of them. Not vaguely as in “oh I just know that she answered my prayers” but manifestly.

And with the memory comes courage. There is no soul seeking light which is unattended by her presence. And no soul choosing darkness which isn’t being interceded for with devotion and perseverance. I know this…

Because I am a mother.

She who carried Divinity in her womb has touched Love itself and become perfect mother to all. She will not rest until we are safe or until we have chosen with finality.

Ask her for your miracles. And expect them. They will come in the perfect timing and manner of Jesus Christ at her request.

It's not my job...

We can pass on the faith but we can’t force a child to receive it. They have to develop that relationship with Jesus and personally embrace and love His Word.⁣⁣
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Otherwise, all those hours of family adoration are just one-sided and our tallest kids might be approaching the Eucharistic table unworthily, with hardened hearts and a growing antagonism toward the things of God.⁣⁣
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We don’t know what is going on in their hearts.⁣⁣
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I have spent years pondering the secret to really passing on the faith; to presenting it in such a way that it is more inviting than all the attractions of the world...⁣⁣
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Personal prayer is essential but it must be accompanied by heroic actions that allow Christ to work strongly within a family and keep the lures of the world at bay. My motherhood demands sanctity. My vocation is made for it...⁣⁣
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And as we know, the saints had to battle the world, many of them only achieving popularity in the hearts of the Catholic faithful well after their deaths. We need to reconcile ourselves to that. To being in the equivalent of the social media dustbin for the sake of souls.⁣⁣
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It is not my job to mold my children into saints. It is my job to give them every opportunity, motivation and protection to allow them to say yes to Jesus. Then He is the one who will make them saints.⁣⁣
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Read the whole article HERE. Some hard truths, encouragements, and practical tips for parenting Catholic teens.⁣⁣
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I originally wrote the article in 2019 and it brought some heavy attacks from Catholic parents at the time. Before posting today, I reread it with fresh and critical eyes. Not only do I stand by every word, but if I rewrote it, I would strengthen the language.

Homeless until heaven.

This is my daughter. I’m going to ramble a bit and then tell you more about her adventure…⁣
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Just when you think that you can’t possibly handle any more heart stretching, the good Lord allows more.⁣
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Rending, stretching, breaking, shattering… filling, saturating, expanding, illuminating.⁣
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There’s been a lot going here in the last year or so. So much that I have sometimes been left like a fish gasping on the shore… flopping around wondering how I ended up so out of my element… and when God would let me back in the water.⁣
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Well, I’m a fish learning to breathe air. And a woman learning to inhale under water. And the hope and joy of Jesus Christ overpowers everything in His time.⁣
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Back to the beautiful young woman in the photo…⁣
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My oldest daughter will be leaving home to serve as a missionary to the homeless for a year with @urbanencounterministries.⁣ She’ll be leaving in a month or so, shortly after her brother is married. And I thought I was getting used to departures but I guess I’m not that hardened yet. Maybe I don’t want to be anyway.⁣
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At any rate, I love her, I’m proud of her, I’ll miss her. And if you are interested in sponsoring her work financially, she could use that kind of support as well.⁣
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I think her work might be a little like mine. Both in the wilds of the human condition, trying to figure out how to extend the Gospel of Jesus Christ… without any promise of knowing how that seed will blossom.⁣
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Different but united. We will breathe under water in different cities and marvel at the simplicity of the Word and the aching of the sojourner.⁣
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Homeless until heaven. Following the steps of Jesus, our homeless King who awaits us with His Divine permanence.⁣
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Thank you @shesaidfiat for your radical yes to Christ. That beautiful gift will always console me when I am missing you. ❤️⁣

Five.

When you are 5 years old, have been counting down the days until you can blow out your birthday candles, and it’s finally time...⁣
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You don’t just blow out your candles, you attack them.⁣
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He wanted a volcano cake and legos. Nailed it. Thank God for the beautiful (and sometimes wild) simplicity of the single digit years.⁣
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Happy birthday week, little Z. May God direct your passion always for His glory. 🔥⁣
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Easy volcano cake:⁣
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• Four boxes of GF brownie mix (we had a crowd to feed)⁣
• Melted chocolate⁣
• Leftover edible glitter from Confirmation cake (see previous post with the flame cake)⁣
• 5 gold candles found in the back of the kitchen drawer⁣
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Bake the brownies. Plop them onto a plate. Drizzle. Sprinkle. Done!

Your daughter might need this...

The following is an excerpt from a larger article found HERE. I write a lot of stuff. Some is more important than others... more urgent. This is one of the most important I’ve written because if someone is open to the words, it could help save a life or a soul:⁣
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“DEAR MOMS OF GIRLS...⁣
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We've been around the block a few times. We know things that our girls don't know. But our girls haven't lived in our shoes, haven't learned our lessons, and haven't undergone our conversions....⁣
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We cannot assume that they are equipped to weather the storms we are accustomed to withstanding.⁣
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We cannot assume that when they nod their heads in agreement with our maternal rants that they actually have a deep enough grasp of the truth or an unwavering relationship with Jesus Christ.⁣
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We can’t assume that their attachment to us is stronger than their attachment to someone else.⁣
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We have to be willing to go to the mat for them; to make ourselves a righteous nuisance about technology, defensive protocols, and constant instruction in the art of navigating the human condition.⁣
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I'm not going to sugarcoat this. Some of you think your girl is okay... and she's not.⁣
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God didn't allow me to wade through the sewage in my own life only to stay silent and watch other hearts, minds, and bodies assaulted by wickedness. Here is your warning and I give it with all the sisterly and motherly love in my feminine heart:⁣
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Evil hardly ever comes looking like a monster... but usually appearing like the deepest desires of our heart. We have to be prepared.⁣
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Evil slips through the cracks through our weaknesses and our pride. It finds our sorrows and our loneliness. It listens to our doubts and becomes the consolation and affirmation that we deeply desire.⁣”
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Dear Moms of boys...⁣
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This is for you, too. Let’s raise them right, interfere with them when they stray, oppose predatory behaviors in them, and...⁣
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Learn to recognize the patterns of abuse against them as well.⁣
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Break the silence. Restore the culture. Protect each other.⁣

Read the full article HERE. I recommend reading it with your daughter and sons and discussing together.

Simplifying homeschool discernment

Is homeschooling a vocation? A Calling? Many believe it is. I have been told that I can do it because I have that special call... some kind of secret sauce from God that others don't have...⁣
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But that isn't true.⁣
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Homeschooling is tough because parenting is tough. I am far better suited to other things (for example, I'd make a darn good crazy cat lady). Fortunately, I know that anything worth doing requires some struggle. And I know through the example of the saints (and Christ Himself), that God asks us to follow Him to uncomfortable and surprising places.⁣
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The biggest mistake made by discerning parents is to base their decision on feeling. They assume that just because a thing is scary, overwhelming, unknown, difficult, and out of their comfort zone, that God must not want them there.⁣
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At a very fundamental level of discernment, this is a mistake. You know what would have felt awesome this morning? Eating my breakfast in a quiet house with all of the kids being fed and taught by other people... somewhere else. But that is not the decision that my husband and I have discerned to be the best for my kids or, frankly, for me.⁣
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You can read more about this topic on my website in an article called "Homeschooling is Not My Vocation." But I will say one more thing here...⁣
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Mom and Dad... your vocation is first to love. After that comes a tidal wave of prudential decision making rooted in that love. You can't change your vocation, but you can change your mind about schooling...⁣
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You can change schools, go hybrid... heck, you can pull them out tomorrow and live in a treehouse in Peru! There are many ways to love within your vocation...⁣
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But those prudential choices are not your vocation. You are not stuck. It's all hard. You're not necessarily equipped. Don't be afraid. Soldier on.⁣
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We are called to be holy and to lead our children to Christ. Once we have made that top priority, each detail should be able to pass the test: Does it lead them closer to Jesus?

I am the one in brown

Some of the handmade Mother’s Day love notes from my kids. The brown painting in the left hand corner is me.⁣ I also got flowers, new measuring spoons, and a spiritual bouquet with a Mother’s Day bullet. If you know my family, you know which kid gave me that.⁣
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I am content with their love and prayers. My standard answer to “what do you want for x,y,z” holiday is usually...⁣
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A clean house. They all know it but I fear they’ve given up. It might be similar in their minds to mom asking for a million dollars!⁣
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Anyway... the clean house would be wonderful but it is secondary. I want most of all for my children to be happy and holy. I want every effort they give to me to be doubled for Blessed Mother and Our Lord.⁣ Maybe that sounds even more difficult than a clean house. But nothing is impossible for God. Nothing.⁣
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I also have hope of someday finding all my lost measuring spoons! In the meantime, my husband gets me. He understands my deep desire for a holy family AND a functional kitchen.

Mother's Day is Complicated. Mary is not.

When I was 10 years old, life was sometimes stressful. I didn’t know much about Jesus and I didn’t really pray, but I had a rosary.⁣
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I didn’t know how to use it, but I knew Hail Marys were involved. So when my fears and grief were high, I would lay in bed and say two words on each bead...⁣
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“Hail Mary”⁣
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That’s all I knew... until many years later when I finally prayed a full rosary as a young adult.⁣
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Mother’s Day can be a complicated day. So I just keep my eyes on her. She knows what to do. She knows how to gently walk through the mess until she reaches my heart...⁣
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And she touches it gently.⁣
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Oh, sad and blessed day! When I don’t want to be celebrated. When I don’t know how to honor. When I grieve loss and regrets. When I rejoice in the gift of maternal love. When my children remind me how good my life is...⁣
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Keeping eyes on her.⁣
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It was a beautiful day. Thanks be to God.⁣

Parenting adults: A shifting

Parenting Tips (3 bigs)

Someone asked me for my top tips for parenting. Well, I still have a lot to learn. But I’ve learned a few big things that I will tell my children when they become parents.⁣
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I have quite a long list. (My older kids can sense this coming, I know). But I’ll just pick three today:⁣
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1. Don’t yell. At least yell less. Yelling in anger makes you sick and unhappy. Makes your kids reactive and defensive, and reduces their sensitivity to your words.⁣
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2. Smile at your kids often. Fake it if you have to. Show them that you like them and love them. Show them that your testimony to Jesus’ love means something more than a Sunday obligation... and that your happiness isn’t just reserved for people outside the house.⁣
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3. Read Scripture together every day. Learn to love the Word of God as a family. So that they will have more of His words in their minds than they have lyrics from Frozen. Or whatever is on the radio.⁣
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I don’t follow these tips very well. I’m still very much in training (still novice level after 23 years actually). But I have seen these changes make a positive difference in my home when I make the effort.⁣
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Well worth it. ⁣

I sat at her feet and she prayed...

Parenting young adults has stretched me. I didn't know I could stretch so far without breaking. I didn't know... and it was better not to know beforehand. But here I am.

I have 3 adult kids and 5 more behind. I tremble at times at the future. I've been surprised by what love requires. I've been brought low by the dismantling of expectations, the obliteration of certain ideals, and the realization that I have screwed up a lot of things.

And yet...

I sat at my daughter's feet at the back of the chapel. She placed her hands on my shoulders... on my head. And she prayed.

The child I held as an infant held me. This girl, who I sang to sleep so many nights, sat with me after midnight together on a chapel floor singing to our Eucharistic Lord.

I don't know the name for the emotion I feel in such moments. It is beyond emotion. More deeply real than what I can experience sensorily. Our combined memories--every painful moment, every sweetness--laid before the Savior of the world and Lover of His smallest of daughters.

"He is so good." The words are insufficient but we understood each other.

I am no longer young. I know how grief cycles back and sin oppresses and relationships strain and sickness comes. And yet... I never imagined this moment of sweetness as a mother. Never. It all just looks so different from how I imagined.

I also didn't know that this intimate moment in a dark chapel would be captured by a woman nearby. She has lived a lot of life. She has loved and struggled and lost and risen. She knew what it would mean to me.

Most deeply intimate moments of my life don't make it to IG. But we both want to give testimony. God will not be outdone in generosity. He can take your deepest pain and use it for incomprehensible beauty. @shesaidfiat ...I love you.

What comes tomorrow? I don't know. Onward, trembling heart! Jesus, I trust in You.

"In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it" (John 1)

#ariseretreat

Engagement and the "Easter Potato"

What a year of unexpected gifts! The Easter engagement of beloved children is not the least of those surprises! God continues to plant, water, and bring forth fruit through every season. We are so grateful and look forward with joy to seeing them blossom in the wisdom, love, and grace of Jesus Christ.⁣⁣⁣
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My husband and I also celebrated the anniversary of our engagement on Easter. I pray that our young people will blessed with the same depth of joy that we have, that we all give glory to God through our vocations…. and celebrate forever in heaven.⁣⁣⁣
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What a blessed Easter! And an earthly consolation. To speak frankly, even the greatest holy days do not always bring respite. (For example, I have spent more than one vigil Mass pregnant, miserable, and trying not to throw up.)⁣⁣⁣
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But this year brought much temporal comfort. A little oasis with a loving family, peaceful relationships, many moments of delight, and the Eucharist.⁣⁣⁣
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One of my favorite moments was also somewhat humbling. As we were leaving the house for Mass, Little Z picked up an empty corsage box and announced that he wanted to put something in it to give to Father. We were already late so he looked around hurriedly...⁣⁣⁣
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The closest thing was our fruit and potato cart. He examined the contents and I jokingly said: “You could give him a potato!”⁣⁣⁣
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So he did. He put it in the box and stuffed that into a gray Walmart bag. I just rolled with it and figured I could explain it all to Father later.⁣⁣⁣
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But when “later” came, I noticed Father walking across the room with a familiar gray bag. Z didn’t wait for me.⁣⁣⁣
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“Is it an egg?”⁣⁣⁣
“No. It’s a potato.”⁣⁣⁣
“Oh! Is it cooked?”⁣⁣⁣
“No.”⁣⁣⁣
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And that is how Father came into the possession of an Easter potato.⁣⁣⁣
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I ran out of time to put together Easter baskets and my husband gave out surprises from cardboard boxes. We forgot to make the green beans. Our outfits haven’t matched since 2006. And come to think of it, “Easter potato” will likely be our new family way of saying…⁣⁣⁣
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“Just roll with it. Don’t get distracted. Jesus is alive!"⁣⁣
🔥

"This is difficult"

That look you give your dad when you are terrified but committed to trusting him.⁣⁣
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My husband exudes strength and calm and loving presence. And this little boy was an absolute delight to spend time with in the ER. Even though he initially thought they were going to remove his nose 😳, he was calm and courageous.⁣⁣
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Later on, he tried to negotiate fewer stitches with the doctor. And made sure from the minute he walked in that he wouldn’t leave without a popsicle and stickers. I mean, if you’re going to have your nose removed, you might as well get a popsicle, right?!⁣⁣
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A blessed moment for me was when he was enduring the final stitch. He lay very still and calmly said...⁣⁣
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“This is difficult.”⁣⁣
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His dad replied: “But you’re doing just fine.”⁣⁣
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“Yeah, I am.”⁣⁣
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And they held hands a little tighter.⁣⁣
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It occurred to me then that my kid, at the age of 4, is already so much like his dad. That is a profound consolation to me.⁣ And I want to be like both of them when I grow up.⁣
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When we got home very late, Z was disappointed that his siblings were already sleeping. He wanted to show them his nose and his goodies. And today, they all gathered around him as he woke up, so eager to talk to him and love him. He heard them before he saw them and smiled and reached out a hand to try to touch whoever was closest.⁣⁣
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I never dreamed that such beautiful things could happen in my life. These beautiful people. Such treasures even in the midst of hardship and crisis.⁣⁣
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We’ve been through a lot. I’m sure more is coming. I pray that God will always grant us His vision in the storms, that we can see what is beautiful and gain courage to keep going.⁣⁣ We will just keep moving forward and thanking our good Father in heaven... and holding on to each other.⁣⁣
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Thanks be to God. ❤️

They told me you were big, Son.

They told me he was big when he was born. Well, I knew that... I birthed him. It got a little dicey and they almost had to break him to help me deliver...⁣⁣
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But neither of us broke.
⁣And they looked at me with shock as I smiled and talked about “next time.”⁣⁣
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“Next time?” they asked incredulously. “You mean you want more kids after going through that?⁣⁣”
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“I feel like superwoman. I don’t want to do it again quite yet... let’s let this little guy grow. But his life has already changed me and made me brave.”⁣⁣
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They told me he was big. But they didn’t know how big he would be. How he would fill the space without trying to. And you could almost hear his bones and his spirit creak as he stretched.⁣⁣
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His dad gave him a name of strength... so that he would not forget his roots... roots going back through Salvation History. Big and deep roots.⁣⁣
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Do you know what this world wants to do to our sons? It wants to make them small. To take our giants and make them into automated, addicted, enslaved, numbed, ineffective shadows. Make them forget who they are.⁣⁣
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And this week, as I remember his transformative birth and celebrate the gift of his amazing life... I beg the Holy Spirit to anoint him for a holy purpose. Protect him. Guide him. Challenge him. Ignite him.⁣⁣
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They told me you were big, son. They don’t know the half of it. And my prayer is that you will stay big in the Lord... never satisfied with anything less than His desire for your life.⁣⁣
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Happy birthday, kid. I love you.🔥🔥🔥

Motherhood (A peek into my future)

It’s been almost 5 years since my last pregnancy. So perhaps that season of my life has passed. I don’t know. I had a dream last night that I was pregnant and it wasn’t shocking...⁣ but I know now what it is like to look into a future without my own new babies to hold. And I am starting to feel, for the first time, the soft desire that a woman might feel for grandchildren.⁣
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It’s not a strong feeling. Just something I recognize lingering on the edge of my life. A little peek at my future.⁣ How funny to think that because I married so young, I could technically have a child younger than one of my grandchildren! And that thought, my friends, makes me laugh... ⁣
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... and also makes me feel very tired.⁣
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Motherhood is explosive. It has blown me to bits along with all of my ideas of perfection. A constant descent into humiliation and a steady rising into a true and magnificent calling...⁣
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A contradiction. A startling adventure. A consoling monotony. A painful stretching.⁣
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Lead me, Lord, to my truest self. Where I look down at my hands and see Yours. And agree to have my heart expanded beyond the limits of human reason.⁣
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I can do this if You make me not afraid. And then someday, I will rest...⁣
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But not yet. Please make me tireless...⁣
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I would like to take a break. Take a breath. Close my eyes. But I have a few more miles to go. And a few more transitions to make. Blessed be God forever. ❤️

Staying in my lane for Advent (maturing motherhood?)

I’m usually in charge of the cookie baking and decorating. But this year I let it go and my middle girls took the reigns.⁣ I just stayed in my lane helping the 4-year old. A messy wonderful job.⁣
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At the end of the day, the table was covered with the work of their hands and hearts. Beautiful.⁣
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This was also the year that I didn’t put a single ornament on the tree. And I didn’t move any ornament on the tree to a “better” spot.⁣ I used to delight in such details but lost that pleasure during my sickest years when I cried my way through many Advents.⁣
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I expect that my desire to tinker and fuss will return someday. But for now, if it manifests, it pops up more like a manager than a lover... without sweetness and light. And nobody needs more of that.⁣
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So I’m watching this transition happen and it brings more delight than the work of my own hands ever could.⁣
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My dad used to allow me to decorate our home and tree every year. I had total control of the decoration box and I loved it. Truth be told (and photos verify) that my 10-year old decor choices were gaudy and terrible...⁣
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But now I understand why he let me do it. And why he didn’t fix it. I’m sure it was partially because he was tired. He didn’t really want to be in control. But I imagine he also took some delight...⁣
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And every year, he told me it looked wonderful and he thanked me.⁣
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My kids have siblings so they self-correct better than I did. For example, they would never let each other put gold garland around the lamp shades! The older ones would stop them for sure...⁣
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But I’m not sure that I would anymore. Maybe I would just tell them it was wonderful.⁣ Cleaning up the messes now. Heading into expectant silence. Praying for you all. Maranatha!

A Joyful Fighting Spirit

Oh, child of the Midwest... I love you so. “Seasonal clothing” is a relative term for you. And every year, when you open the door to the first snow and throw yourself out in it, my heart explodes. Don’t ever stop. I love going through Advent with you. Your life is healing. Creative. Astonishing.⁣
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The hardness and ugliness of current times highlights the beauty of Christ by contrast. I don’t think I will see anything quite the same again...⁣
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I hope I don’t.⁣
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In a recent article recommended by Bishop Joseph Strickland, Austin Ruse speaks of the “Joyful fighting spirit.” And that pierced me.⁣ That’s what I want. That’s what this child has. That’s what I owe to God. And that is what Advent brings.⁣..
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Quietly.⁣
Intensely.⁣
Intimately.⁣
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Then when the time comes...⁣
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Oh, come let us adore Him! And testify to the ends of the earth.⁣
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True intimacy with Him brings the confidence that necessarily becomes a force in the world. We can now work with vigor to become the greatest saints. Because Christ is with us.⁣
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“Christ’s coming into the world was not like that of a sightseer to a strange city, but rather like that of an artist visiting his own studio or an author paging the books he himself has written, for in becoming incarnate, the divine Word was tabernacle himself in his own creation.”⁣ - Ven. Fulton Sheen

Reclaiming our names. Leading armies.

One of my precious people turned 16 yesterday. She asked to make her own cake and it is beautiful.⁣⁣⁣
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I noticed that she didn’t write her name on the cake like I always try to do. Their names are so special to me and I missed it.⁣⁣⁣ Her name is long and difficult to write with icing. Perhaps it would not have fit very well with her pretty design. But I missed it.⁣⁣⁣
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My heart was heavy yesterday. My husband looked into my eyes and said “Are you feeling discouraged?” and I thought if we were somewhere private that I would have collapsed into his arms and wept.⁣⁣⁣
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We had both watched footage of violent activists assaulting peaceful people in DC. The elderly, the weak, with children around, with no compunction...⁣⁣⁣
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They have been overtaken by evil. They have lost the love they were born with. They erase our names. And their own. Empathy is dead.⁣⁣⁣
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My daughter’s cake is beautiful and so is her age. It just struck me on a heavy day that she has been born into a time calling for people to give their lives to defend the identity of other...⁣⁣⁣ and one of the signs of evil will always be the violence against the individual, the family, and God.⁣⁣⁣
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I can hear the complaints now... “why must everything be about politics?” It’s not about politics... but about the assault against Christ in us by those who have rejected Him.⁣⁣⁣
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My daughter is beautiful and bold. She is growing into a person I admire. She was made for these times.⁣⁣⁣
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St. Joan of Arc was 16 the first time she petitioned the garrison commander to take her to the royal court. She was 18 when she led her first army. My oldest two girls are 20 and 16.⁣⁣⁣
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If I make it into heaven, I will hug the girl named Joan. Thank her, love her, worship with her. And today I do some of those things, and also ask her to assist my daughters⁣⁣.⁣
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My girl’s name was not on the cake, but I keep placing it there in my mind. It is our role as mothers (of our own and of the world) to continually do so... and to place those names before the throne of God.⁣⁣⁣
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As the world abandons Christ, let us make Him known. And commit ourselves to defending the identity of every soul. 🔥