Disciplines:
To keep the kitchen table clear and tidy. It seems to be our dumping ground much too often, and I have noticed that how cluttered it is affects my peace of mind. My disposition is entirely more peaceful when it is clear, and this makes me a better wife and mother.
In bed, lights out, by 10:00PM. My bedtime has been creeping later and later, affecting my morning and energy.
Limit sweets to Sundays only.
Prayer:
It does not paralyze me, but I am a person of worry. I worry about how I am perceived, how my family is perceived, and what the future holds. I found it particularly complex to bring my first child into the world in the midst of the worst economic turmoil that I've witnessed in my life. Therefore, I intend to meditate daily on the following concept: "We are not of this world," and the phrase: "Jesus, I trust in you." More on these thoughts later...
One hour of the Liturgy of the Hours each day, be it Matins, Vespers, Compline, whatever. I love the Liturgy of the Hours, and I find them particularly helpful in the seasons of Advent and Lent to focus my prayer.
Charity:
I will purchase only essential household, food, and clothing items, and donate money we would otherwise spend. I am not sure what charities yet, though I will give some to our parish and parish school.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Doing God's Work
My husband's job involves quite a bit of travel, as he works in international development for a Catholic organization. He's fortunate to pursue a vocation he loves, and his work will, God willing, help improve the lives of some of our world's poorest. It is good work, special work, hard work. The travel is especially taxing, on both of us, on his fatherhood, on our marriage. I would say it is the biggest challenge in our marriage these days, especially since the arrival of our precious Pearl.
A colleague of his once told me, I think in an attempt to make me feel better (!) about his travel: "Just remember, he's doing God's work."
Oooh, it stung. It was a few months ago, and it stings me still, following me around on the days he is gone, nagging me, whispering in my ear. It made me feel like I was supposed to step aside, clear the way, let this heroic knight go into battle. It made me feel passive, and I didn't like it, that he actively helped the poor, sacrificing through hours at the airport, poor conditions, great puzzles and headaches, and I passively helped the poor by sacrificing the profound assistance of my husband, his companionship, my peace of mind when he was gone. Yes, I do the bedtime routine alone, weary from the day, and I worry for his safety, and, like today, take the darn car in to the mechanic alone, completely illiterate about what might be wrong with it. Is this how I help the poor? Is this how I do what Jesus asks us to do? By putting my chin down and muscling through the week without my husband? I don't know, maybe in some way. Maybe I ought to be more humble and selfless. I think there is something special, in fact, in making these sacrifices in a quiet way behind the scenes. I need God to help me be more generous.
And the other obvious reaction to the above statement is this: My husband kicks up dust and sleeps on a cot in a humid climate, makes wonderful plans, works on the "groundfloor" of development. I, well, you know, I grind up yet another round of food for the lip-smacking Pearl. I rinse the diaper out in the utility sink and throw yet another load into the laundry. Let's see, I vacuum, when I get around to it. I wipe down the counter, dust the table. Um, oh yes, it's winter time, so I shovel, and shovel, and shovel.
I don't need the world's approval. I'm happy to hide a bit in the walls of this house, putzing about. But I sure do want God's approval. And I sure do hope that what I'm doing is his work. And I know this isn't glamourous, and I won't claim its importance, but I do hope it is GOOD. And by being good, might it be of God. And even if only the little Pearl is the recipient of my floundering attempts at motherhood, might my work be ENOUGH.
We cannot measure in the world's terms. Even though his colleague claimed GOD's work, she was measuring that work in HUMAN terms. In quantity, and in breadth of impact, in visibility, and in success. But Blessed Mother Teresa reminds us, "You have not called me to be successful. You have called me to be faithful."
So Lord, look kindly upon me. Strengthen my efforts to raise my child in your light. Bless all our work, no matter where it is, or how it is done, that it might be good. Help me to wake tomorrow and do it again, not for anyone to notice, but for your eyes alone. Do not let me succumb to the world's measurements, but let me store up my treasure in heaven, that when I die you might say, "Well done, good and faithful servant."
A colleague of his once told me, I think in an attempt to make me feel better (!) about his travel: "Just remember, he's doing God's work."
Oooh, it stung. It was a few months ago, and it stings me still, following me around on the days he is gone, nagging me, whispering in my ear. It made me feel like I was supposed to step aside, clear the way, let this heroic knight go into battle. It made me feel passive, and I didn't like it, that he actively helped the poor, sacrificing through hours at the airport, poor conditions, great puzzles and headaches, and I passively helped the poor by sacrificing the profound assistance of my husband, his companionship, my peace of mind when he was gone. Yes, I do the bedtime routine alone, weary from the day, and I worry for his safety, and, like today, take the darn car in to the mechanic alone, completely illiterate about what might be wrong with it. Is this how I help the poor? Is this how I do what Jesus asks us to do? By putting my chin down and muscling through the week without my husband? I don't know, maybe in some way. Maybe I ought to be more humble and selfless. I think there is something special, in fact, in making these sacrifices in a quiet way behind the scenes. I need God to help me be more generous.
And the other obvious reaction to the above statement is this: My husband kicks up dust and sleeps on a cot in a humid climate, makes wonderful plans, works on the "groundfloor" of development. I, well, you know, I grind up yet another round of food for the lip-smacking Pearl. I rinse the diaper out in the utility sink and throw yet another load into the laundry. Let's see, I vacuum, when I get around to it. I wipe down the counter, dust the table. Um, oh yes, it's winter time, so I shovel, and shovel, and shovel.
I don't need the world's approval. I'm happy to hide a bit in the walls of this house, putzing about. But I sure do want God's approval. And I sure do hope that what I'm doing is his work. And I know this isn't glamourous, and I won't claim its importance, but I do hope it is GOOD. And by being good, might it be of God. And even if only the little Pearl is the recipient of my floundering attempts at motherhood, might my work be ENOUGH.
We cannot measure in the world's terms. Even though his colleague claimed GOD's work, she was measuring that work in HUMAN terms. In quantity, and in breadth of impact, in visibility, and in success. But Blessed Mother Teresa reminds us, "You have not called me to be successful. You have called me to be faithful."
So Lord, look kindly upon me. Strengthen my efforts to raise my child in your light. Bless all our work, no matter where it is, or how it is done, that it might be good. Help me to wake tomorrow and do it again, not for anyone to notice, but for your eyes alone. Do not let me succumb to the world's measurements, but let me store up my treasure in heaven, that when I die you might say, "Well done, good and faithful servant."
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Christmas Still
It's a little secret we have! While the world shifts gloomy eyes from candlelight to gray skies, and stores tear down red and green for red and pink hearts, we still revel. We still cherish. We still rejoice, and we do not take our gaze from the Little One who rests in Mary's arms. We have been given the gift of many days of celebration! Many days of quiet and peace and knowledge, no matter the madness of the world. What a precious secret to keep. Jesus said we are not to be of this world, and it is times like this when his truth is not a cross, but a balm. For his graces are beyond, beyond, beyond any pleasure this world might conjure up. Spurn the world its gloom!
Dear Infant Jesus, abide with us. Rest in our hearts. Do not let us flee from you. Do not let the world pull us from our worship. Keep our gaze.
Dear Infant Jesus, abide with us. Rest in our hearts. Do not let us flee from you. Do not let the world pull us from our worship. Keep our gaze.
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