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.

From terror to intimacy...

Throwback to our quarantined Easter 2020. I came upon this memory of praying with my family and the word that came to me was “intimacy.”⁣
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I have done so many things wrong as a mother and wife. As I approach 25 years with my husband, I am finally starting to understand one thing…⁣
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My power as a parent does not come from my ability to manage my home, but in my surrender to Jesus Christ.⁣
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My husband’s witness has taught me that. This photo reminds me. His strength in his duties is admirable. But nothing moves me to goodness and repentance like his humility in service and love of the Lord.⁣
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It is that quality which first brought me to Christ and inspired me to enter into relationship with Him. It is that quality which helps me stay steady in faith when I otherwise might run.⁣
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One of the greatest gifts God has allowed me to receive is the gift of sickness. He permitted me to lose control. To experience profound humiliation and confusion. To be stripped of identity in the world so that I could no longer hide from Him.⁣
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I found Him in the darkness. And He replaced my terror with Intimacy.⁣
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I know that my household does not look like my musings on Instagram. We are sinners. I fail daily in my living testimony. But perhaps somewhere in all the busyness and disorder, my kids will be moved to surrender.⁣
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Dear Jesus, capture me. Capture the hearts of my family. Draw us constantly into intimacy with You.

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

Inching toward 25 years

We always thought it would feel bigger. Perhaps we should have known that it would feel just like home.

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!"⁣⁣
🔥

Exult!

“Exult, let them exult, the hosts of heaven, exult, let Angel ministers of God exult, let the trumpet of salvation sound aloud our mighty King's triumph!⁣⁣
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Be glad, let earth be glad, as glory floods her, ablaze with light from her eternal King, let all corners of the earth be glad, knowing an end to gloom and darkness.⁣⁣
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Rejoice, let Mother Church also rejoice, arrayed with the lightning of his glory, let this holy building shake with joy, filled with the mighty voices of the peoples.⁣”⁣
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* Excerpt from the Exultet, the hymn in praise of the paschal candle sung in the liturgy of Holy Saturday.⁣⁣

Lots to share tomorrow... from engagements (life moves quickly, friends) to the “Easter potato.”⁣
Until then...⁣
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Happy Easter, friends! He is risen indeed! 🔥

Am I changed?

Last Easter was the most transformative of my life. Separated from the sacraments and community during the holiest week of the liturgical year, we observed and celebrated in our own way...⁣
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* Lighting our Paschal fire like St. Patrick did in defiance of the pagan darkness. His Paschal fire illuminated and changed Ireland... and the world. We prayed to be like Patrick.⁣
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* Diving into the Scriptures and taking consolation there. Making our home a true Domestica Ecclesiae.⁣
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* Treasuring the presence of family. My response to the world’s perpetual “Are they all yours?” is now the deep consolation of that Easter Vigil night. I will not forget.⁣
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I grieved in the darkness and the Lord consoled me. And I vowed to never take another Easter for granted.⁣ Now here we are a year later and our church doors have been opened while so many are still closed. And I examine my heart...⁣
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Am I changed?⁣
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I am still the same foolish sinner I was last year. I still managed to waste much of Lent. I am tired and lazy. I have already forgotten lessons learned even though the grief lingers. But still...⁣
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There is a fire that remains. And He has taught me many things about worship.⁣
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As we head into the darkness of Holy Week, I feel the memory of last year’s transformation start to change me again. Because our faith memories are not just stories... they are His Presence.⁣
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Enter in. It is time to be changed again...⁣
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Draw us back, Lord. Renew us again. 🔥⁣
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"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. ❤️

What you need to know before seminary...

"My son was in seminary." When people hear that, it seems simple enough. But when I say it, the recollection is of a life-changing event... like a car accident or a bad breakup. An experience that you survived but with complicated emotions, some scars, some residual pain, a different perspective on life, and some beautiful and powerful manifestations of God's grace.⁣⁣
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Since I wasn't in seminary, that part isn't my story to tell. But as a parent, I have a perspective that I believe is important. Not because I'm special or unique... but because God allowed me to experience it and it is part of my testimony. It has become part of my personal call to serve the Church.⁣⁣
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Perhaps my words can help a future priest navigate difficulties.⁣⁣ Perhaps some parents can be better equipped to assist.⁣⁣
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The Church is clearly in crisis. We cannot wish that away. What we can do is apply intellect to faith (as it should be) and start to reclaim ground and heal what is broken.⁣⁣
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When a man enters the seminary doors, he walks onto a battlefield. He is giving his assent to be fitted with the future crown of martyrdom. Like the Apostles before Him. Like Christ.⁣⁣
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Before entering, he should already be a man, with a healthy spiritual, mental, and physical formation. He must be open to learning while, at the same time, prepared for the possibility of having to navigate wrong teaching and complicated peer and formator relationships.⁣⁣
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Our rosaries and the hours on our knees on behalf of our children may be enough in the end but, then again, they may not. Prayer moves mountains, but bad formation is not undone simply by a mother’s fervent desire. If we throw our kids into a den of hungry wolves and then pray a rosary for their safety…well…we shouldn’t be surprised to see their bodies torn to shreds.⁣⁣
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How can we prepare our sons to answer the call BEFORE they get to seminary? I try to answer that (in part) in an article called "What Catholic Parents Need to Know Before a Son Enters Seminary."⁣⁣ I'd be grateful if you would give it a read. This topic is critically important to all the faithful. AMDG

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. ❤️

Consecration: A Fierce Tenderness

Little hands collected “flowers” for her crown and made decorations for her space. It was the middle of quarantine and they played sweetly, oblivious to the growing madness of the world. So innocent and spontaneous in their devotion.⁣
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They had no idea how close she really was to them and to their family. How tenderly yet firmly she led us and protected us.⁣
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Fast forward...⁣
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Today is New Years Day and 2020 is over, but that calendar seems completely overshadowed by the Solemnity...⁣
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She is so close to us. How privileged we are!⁣
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Mary carried me through this past year. She arranged everything. She stayed with me so closely that I could not help but fall into her arms during times of grief and rely on her more and more.⁣
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I stumbled so many times over myself and over the anxiety of the year. And over and over she picked me up, bandaged my wounds, and reoriented me toward Christ.⁣
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I cannot recall a more transformative or healing year than 2020.⁣
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She drew me in all year. In October, I renewed my Marian Consecration. By December, I saw an unfolding of miracles. I wish I could tell you all that has transpired. I can’t. But I can tell you this...⁣
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My hope has been restored. Because I have seen what God does through His people and through His cherished mother. He does not spare mercy. He is the Good Shepherd. He will find you when you call. He will rescue you.⁣
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I’m handing over 2021 to the Mother of Mercy and her King of Glory. I have already confidently placed more desperate prayers at their feet.⁣
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Whatever comes will come. May we meet it with holiness, trust, and burning charity!⁣
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Happy Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God! Blessed be God forever! ❤️

Leaving fear for Christmas

I failed to get a whole family photo again but I did manage to get one with this pretty gal. She called me up before Christmas and suggested a Christmas Day pajama party and that’s what we did.⁣
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If you would say a prayer for her, I’d be grateful. Her punishment for spending Christmas with family is that she will be forced to wear a mask in her own home at all times except for eating and sleeping.⁣
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For 14 days.⁣
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A woman who has to rely on others for every need, must have her face covered in her own home. Even though she is exempt by law. Even though she is not ill. Even though every able-bodied caregiver has no such intrusion on bodily autonomy.⁣
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Her life is an ongoing act of humility and discomfort. And they would require even more as a condition of being hugged and loved by family.⁣
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This keeps me up at night. And I struggle with helplessness and anger.⁣ I don’t know when she will be able to visit again. I also don’t know when she will be permitted to attend Holy Mass again. They say if she gets the shot... maybe she will be free.⁣
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That’s called coercion.⁣
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I objected to the lockdown from the word go in March because I could not see the good in separating the vulnerable from their essential community. “The vulnerable” have a face. Hers.⁣
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Almost a full year later, little has changed for them.⁣
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There are still people who can’t get essential medical care or therapy, can’t work, can’t see family, can’t worship, and are struggling under the weight of unrelenting grief and coercion.⁣
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Listen... now that Christ has come and we have indulged and celebrated, some of our loved ones are still being crushed.⁣
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We cannot allow the distractions of the season to allow us to forget. Christmas is not about distraction but about immersion and commission.⁣
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He has called.⁣
Compelling us to seek Him.⁣
He has come.⁣
Now He is equipping us to leave fear, selfishness, and weakness...⁣
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And to live the Gospel.⁣
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It is not our purpose to nurture a faith that remains a “personal journey.” We are made for mission. Go see your people. Smash the idol of fear.⁣
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That is Christmas.

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

Detachment (2020 Thanksgiving)

Friday introductions. I’m not shopping today. I didn’t get a family photo. My house is a mess. And everyone’s sleeping in until they can’t sleep anymore (apparently). Which is a great time to just say hello here!⁣
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This photo was taken in the midst of prep for my first ever Thanksgiving in my own home. I have a Pinterest board full of ideas for that anticipated event... but I didn’t know it would be this year. So...⁣
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There was no pretty decor. There was laundry on the sofa. We had no green beans (Midwest shocker), and I felt a little weepy over circumstances that blew up my Pinterest dream and separated us from family.⁣
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But I was surprised by how the sorrows illuminated the blessing, and moved by the goodness which God has provided...⁣
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How my husband has built a home of faith and stability and love... the presence of all my kids...⁣
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The almost painful clarity of the gift of 2020. It has thrown us all into the fire and I see in my own family a true purifying. An amplifying. A tempering.⁣
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Also in 2020, my faith (which has been tried and tested in the last 5 years) has been strengthened with a companion emotional consolation that I quite honestly never expected to experience again.⁣
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I was happier than I look in the photo. It accurately depicts my level of fatigue and also some sorrow. But yes, I was happy.⁣
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Whatever comes in the next year is in His hands. And I’m working ahead of time on detaching from expectations for Christmas.⁣
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Jesus comes. And maybe we will have to light our fire of praise in the woods like we did for Easter. I don’t know. Whatever He wills. I pray that I will meet it all with His unmerited grace. A priest I know recently said that our faith should not be just an introspective spiritual journey... but should manifest concretely in the world.⁣
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And the word that has grown louder for me this Thanksgiving is TESTIFY.⁣
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Not sure this has been a great introduction! But it’s like me, I guess... overly introspective and wandering!⁣
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Other than that I’m a mom with 9 kids (one loss) ages 4-23. Wife to a fire chief/theologian. Author (click here for my book!), natural health and medical freedom advocate. AMDG

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. 🔥