Much Easier to Give up Chocolate

I have thought and thought about a final sacrifice post; written a couple, actually, and left them in draft. Last night, as I was listening, these verses jumped out at me. I've quoted just below from the New American Catholic Bible on the USCCB site.

Avoid foolish and ignorant debates, for you know that they breed quarrels.

A slave of the Lord should not quarrel, but should be gentle with everyone, able to teach, tolerant,

correcting opponents with kindness. It may be that God will grant them repentance that leads to knowledge of the truth,

and that they may return to their senses out of the devil's snare, where they are entrapped by him, for his will.

~2 Timothy 2: 23-26

In the Revised Standard Version, which is the audio version, it reads:

    

Have nothing to do with stupid, senseless controversies; you know that they breed quarrels.

 And the Lord's servant must not be quarrelsome but kindly to every one, an apt teacher, forbearing,  correcting his opponents with gentleness.

God may perhaps grant that they will repent and come to know the truth, 

and they may escape from the snare of the devil, after being captured by him to do his will.

Stupid, senseless controversies are good things to give up. Sacrificing harshness and unkindness? Also good.

~~

"You didn't give up chocolate for Lent, did you?" my friend Becca asked Christian, as she presented him with some Belgian chocolate from her recent trip to Europe.

"Nah. I was going to give up chocolate, but this whole blood mess started the day before Ash Wednesday and with all the medicine, it seemed like a better idea to give up caffeine."

"Ahh, the Lents when we give up chocolate are always so much easier than the ones when we don't choose what to sacrifice."

Indeed. It's one of those "universal truths," time-proven by the faithful, that Christian is learning this Lent. Sometimes, God chooses our sacrifices and, not surprisingly, those are not the easy Lents, but they can be the most fruitful.

I had one of those fruitful --but not of my own choosing-- Lents one year.

For years, I was at the tipping point. Something's got to give, God, I'd whisper aloud. I have too much to do. Something is robbing me of the time and energy to live with grace and joy. And always, the same idea would present itself. And I'd reject it. No, not that. God doesn't want me to stop doing that. It's helping people. I'm surrounded by religious women. They're teaching me so much. Even my husband doesn't think I should give that up.

And then, one Lent, it was completely wrenched away. Painful Lent. Brutal in its glaring honesty. It was nearly a year before I could understand how kind God had been to me, how patient He was as He tried to show me. 

God knew. He knew the tangled relationships, the snares that fed my weaknesses, the way that this investment of time and energy was really robbing me, even as I thought I was growing in holiness. He knew the ways that I had sinned and sinned and sinned again. And the sacrifice had been forced. For my good.

I had been forced to let go and turn instead to Jesus Himself for support.

Mine is not a unique experience. We are social creatures and most of us fall into companionships and associations that at some time are not healthy for us. It's not even that the people with whom we are associating are bad. They are just not good for us. In hindsight, God has always warned me of such relationships before the wrenching. Sometimes, I've heard and listened. More often, there's been a wrenching.

As my children get older, I see them wrestle some of the same things (of course they do; it's universal). Particularly tricky are people who go through all the right motions: attend the right church, show up at the right activities, profess to believe all the right things. But they don't lead to God Himself. They don't bring their companions closer to Jesus. They don't walk hand in hand with the Savior while offering the other hand to you. They don't make you better for knowing them.

Not bad people, necessarily. Just the wrong companions for you.

Giving up those relationships, sacrificing the human comforts they bring, is undoubtedly difficult.

It would be much easier to give up chocolate.

There is someone in my life today who has brought me closer to Jesus just by allowing me to be in her presence. And she is pure gift. A gift I didn't seek, a gift I never expected.  She is the embodiment of "let the children come". And she teaches with utter gentleness.

Just yesterday, I told her that I want to be her when I grow up. That is, when I am a mature woman of faith, who lives with the love of Christ, I think it will look and sound a lot like her. At least I pray it will. I told her I want to speak to children the way she does, with genuine respect and honest encouragement and profound appreciation for the gifts they are.

Come to think of it, I want to speak to everyone like that.

Time with her is time well spent. Lessons she teaches me are God's lessons. Gift. Grace.

My friend is struggling. Every breath is effort.

She doesn't get to choose what to sacrifice.

Please pray for God's most tender merices for her.

Please join us in prayer. If you'd like to post this reminder on your blog, the code is

<div style="text-align: center;"><a style="display: inline;" href="http://ebeth.typepad.com/.a/6a00d8341c543553ef01116884c515970c-pi"><img title="Elizpraybutton" src="http://ebeth.typepad.com/.a/6a00d8341c543553ef01116884c515970c-800wi" border="0" alt="Elizpraybutton" /></a></div>

that {our} hearts may be encouraged as {we} are knit together in love, to have all the riches of assured understanding and the knowledge of God's mystery, of Christ,
in whom are hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge

~Colossians 2:2-3

Really Counting Now

It's not a new practice, the keeping of a gratitude journal. In fact, I wrote about in the burnout chapter of Real Learning over 12 years ago. I began just listing three things every night. A good practice, a sound practice. Then, I learned to look with a keener eye, to see that the things I love are in reality the ways God loves me. So, I had a sometimes habit of recording those here, a few at a time. But I didn't cultivate the practice of keeping lists at the ready everywhere and I never really numbered my blessings.

Until last week.

Last week, I learned to number them. Every one.

 

1~Dear friend who traveled to the airport with me, heard my worries, helped me to move Elizabeth with grace to the hotel, and shared our joy-filled first night. Later, she will rush to my children when they need a mom and I am gone.

2~Veteran traveler, firm believer in internet blessings, gypsy friend: you brought us grace and laughter and we were blessed to have you in our midst in that amazing moment.

3~Patient, wise, good-hearted husband who considered every detail and made it all work

4~All the people entrusted with prayers for this encounter. I knew you were on your knees and I assure you He answered with unimaginable abundance.

5~A kind email with a beautiful prayer--a perfect prayer. We ponder her example, the example of one woman's godly "yes" to this life of grace. And then, she express mails a CD that becomes the soundtrack of fruitful prayer. Infinite blessing.

6~Sung prayers on CD ever-so-briefly before the phone call for which we have waited years. Prayers continuing in the silent backseat. Her eyes meet mine. I know she's imploring God on our behalf. Astonishing moment.

7~The same friend who has cradled me in the shrine in the days when Sarah was fragile--she meets us at the door, wheelchair at the ready, every kindness considered and provided.

8~Quiet day. Beautiful, quiet day.

9~Ann's shrieks of glee when she learns that Karoline has stowed away for our Thursday together.

10~Elizabeth teaching Karoline to knit and then telling her saints stories as I make frantic phone calls and Ann works nearby.

11~Karoline perfectly narrating all Elizabeth has told her about the deHority children.

12~All the yarn, the needles, the patterns, the love so generously given to us by kind women who abundantly bless us with their generosity (and optimism).

13~Katie curled up with Elizabeth at last, knitting and knitting and knitting.

14~Karoline working with Ann to stamp and seal envelopes with bookplates for American readers. They use Karoline's own handknit washcloth and pray Our Father...

15~Colleen, calling as I leave the airport. I pull over and cry and cry and cry. Joy, relief, grief, exhaustion. And she is there.

16~Mike, calling just after Colleen. Treasure shared.

17~The bagel store on the way home. Warm. I notice bouquets of wheat on the tables there. Eucharisteo.

18~Putting bagels in the trunk, I see what Ann has left me. And I smile. A page a day of blessings from One Thousand Gifts, a mug, and a new journal. I read the day's entry. Today, I begin to number. Today. Right now.

19~Ginny, who meets us at the edge of the woods, picks up my knitting and assures me the creative journey has just begun.

20~Renewed faith in friendship.

Won't you please come by again on Wednesday to see more pictures and read more about our knitting and the invaluable lessons I learned?

How do you do what you do?

I found myself with time to write, but a case of writer's block this evening. So, I went back through a file of questions I had saved. I haven't contributed to the question file for, oh, about two years. Don't know why I stopped filing questions there. It was a good idea, really. I think I'll return to that practice. And maybe this time, I'll be better about answering them promptly. Anyhooo, here's one from a few years ago:

For several years now I have been an ardent reader of your blog, message board posts, and various other articles, and I am just in awe of what you're able to accomplish in a given day. After reading your post this morning I called a good friend & said to her, "Okay, I have to know ... how does Elizabeth "do" all of this???  How does she stay motivated to declutter, take care of family, educate children, and do her writing?" 

 

I have a difficult time keeping my laundry caught up and often feel guilty that my baby is entertained by television while I try to get "caught up" around here.  So where do you begin?  Do you have a very rigid schedule that you adhere to, are your older children capable of and willing to give you a great deal of assistance with the younger ones? 

 

As a Catholic mom aspiring to be the wife, mother, friend, and educator God would have me be, I would be extremely grateful for any tips you could provide me on 'where to begin'.

Dear Elizabeth in SC,

Let's begin with the disclaimer: I do not feel qualified at all to tell you where to begin, which is probably why this post has lingered in my "question box" since March 2008. I really dislike didactic blog posts where the author sounds like she's got it all figured out and I often wonder just how old Paul meant for those Titus 2 women to be. I really don't know when I'll ever feel like I'm in a good place to advise. I do, however, like very much to share what works for me. And I live each and every day with the sure sense that there is never a bad time to shout the wonders of God. Whatever works, works because of His gracious goodness. Whatever fails, fails because I haven't listened well enough or been faithful enough to His commands. So, I'll share with you what works when it works and assure you that there are most definitely days--even seasons--of failure.

That brings me to the first part of your question: how does she stay motivated to declutter, take care of her family, educate children, and do her writing?

That's easy. I am motivated by the sheer joy of being alive and the awareness of what a fragile gift we are given with every breath. I know what it's like to wonder if I will live to raise my children. I have spent hours begging God for the chance to do His will with them. I had not one, but two extended periods of stillness in my life when all I wanted was to be well enough to be a good mom. And both times, when that gift of life was granted again, I resolved to live it to its fullest. I am eternally grateful just to be present in the lives of my family.

Today, I am often reminded of those hard days of stillness and fear. The reminders come in my inbox in the form of emails written by a dear friend. Many, many times those brief missives take the very last of her energy for the day. Sometimes, I read them at night and wake up in the morning with the resolve to do with the day not only what I had planned to do, but what she would do if only she felt well enough.

I don't know if this is at all helpful to you. I'm not sure you can take my experience and benefit from it. I think my experiences color every aspect of my life and because of them I bring different expectations to relationships and to duties. I am often surprised when I am misunderstood and I am increasingly aware that to live this way is almost like living with a sixth sense about life.

Now, let's look at the nitty gritty. I begin at the beginning. Generally, I have a grounded sense of why I'm here. I live to love my God and my family.  I'm not easily distracted by what's going on "out there." The one exception in my life was the wasted time I grew to regret last spring. That aside, I'm focused. With my husband, I prioritize and then I endeavor to live those priorities. I'll warn you, it isn't always a popular thing to do. And it's probably best to explain it over and over again (I don't do nearly enough of that--I assume people know). There are plenty of people out there who will tell you that I can go days (weeks?) without answering emails, returning phone calls, or nurturing friendships. I mean no harm and no disrespect. Quite the contrary, I simply mean to live simply inside the narrow parameters of my family life. I am very grateful for the friends who know and understand how I manage my time and love me anyway.

I start my days with exercise, the Divine Office and Morning Prayer. For me, those are critical to a day well lived. I put my husband before everything else. I carry him with me through the day and I don't hesitate to order my time and energy to meet his needs (and wants) as much, as well, and as often as I can. Marriage is a gift--to me, to him, and to our kids. I protect it with my very life. That means I don't always do some things one might expect me to do. Also, I prioritize according to his direction. I don't waste a whole lot of time thinking about it. I just do it.

For me, a good day begins in a tidy house. I have difficulty functioning in a house that's cluttered and disorganized. At different stages of my life, acquiring and maintaining order has meant different things. When we had three little children and only one car, my husband took a detailed list, three boys and his father, and went grocery shopping and to visit Grandma one evening every week. I power cleaned in the time he was gone. When I had seven children, was recovering from surgery and struggling with depression, we hired help to come in once a week. When I had three competent teenagers at home and someone to share driving duties and no one was nursing...oh, wait, I've never had that;-). You get the idea. Sit down with your husband; share your needs and your wants where your environment is concerned and figure out a way to get to order and to maintain order.

I do have a detailed, almost-to-the-minute schedule. I make a new one every season. And then I never look at it again. I just make them to see how it can all fit. If it can't all fit, something has to give. But once the schedule is made, I walk away from it. I have a general sense of what's to be accomplished in every block of time during the day and I hold myself to it, but I'm not a slave to tiny increments of time. One thing that is nearly non-negotiable in my household is naptime. If we have a napping baby, she gets to have her nap. That means I am really careful not to schedule outside commitments during naptime unless I have someone old enough at home to stay and make sure the baby sleeps.Usually, this means that we have a happy baby. We keep our eating times regular and our going to sleep times regular and then there is an expectation that everything else will fall in place. I paddle like crazy under water to be sure things swim smoothly on top.

I am usually  shy, but I am no longer afraid to say "no" in order to preserve order and maintain sanity. I am quite content with my community of eleven at home and in my heart. My focus is on them. I try hard not to assign too much baby and toddler care to my older children. An attachment parent to the very core of my being, I nurse my babies a long, long time (unless forced to wean around 2 years old by cancer or premature labor). Nursing means that my babies come back to me at regular intervals throughout the day for my undivided attention. It prevents me from delegating them too much, something that can easily happen in a household that has older children who love babies. I hold and hold and hold my babies until they squirm to get down. That said, my oldest daughter does do a lot of baby and child care. Much of it, she chooses to do herself. My kids practically came to blows this morning over who was to have the privilege of dressing the baby. In the end, Mary Beth won. Twenty minutes later, Sarah Annie appeared with a new outfit on, her hair in pigtails, and painted finger nails. Very sweet. For both of them.

In terms of education or household management, I make a lot of lists, think it all out. I'm very intentional. Sometimes, I get to attached to those lists and I start to bulldoze. But I do a lot less of that now than I did ten years ago. My motivation behind the lists is different now. I used to be motivated by keeping up appearances; I wanted everyone looking in to think I was capable and competent. Now, I'm motivated by peace of soul. I want to meet God at the end of the day and honestly tell Him I've been a graceful, good steward of the time He gave me. If my house isn't as tidy as I want it to be, it's probably not because I failed to do the important things; it's probably because I did do whatever was more important. And believe me, I think a clean house is important! It is not, however, a reliable measure of my worth.

I do have days when I feel all semblance of control slipping. And usually, those are messy house days or kids who won't do lessons days. Or both. Those are times I used to escape into the computer, because things stay tidy there. What I really need at those times is a little peace of heart--I need "quiet in a crowd."  You can get a fair bit of "alone time" to just think or pray when you hold in your hand a running vacuum. Now, when I'm tempted to go all "drill seargeant" on my kids because I want everything perfect right now, I vacuum and pray instead. If I get all the dog hair up and I'm still wanting to bulldoze, I do. The kids are probably in need of a good, honest nudge.

I'm a hands-on mom. I love to hold my children or to sit next to them and read aloud. Talking to them about big ideas or little mysteries is a happy thing. I'm fond of books and truly enjoy sharing them with the loves of my life. We are all blessed because I genuinely love education. When I face homeschooling, it's not with a sense of dread or duty. I truly delight in it (most days). That's such a blessing and I know it! I'm very grateful for the gift of that joy. I look at almost every encounter with the people I love as an opportunity to live a blessing. Once upon a time, I begged God to let me just read a story and then lie in the dark with a squirmy three-year-old while she drifted to sleep. He granted me the joy and I seize it as often as I can.

Oh dear! Is this any help at all? I do what I do the way I do it because it's the way God made me and how He continues to shape me through the people in my family and the experiences He's allowed me. At the end of the day--quite literally--it all comes down to getting on my knees and asking Him what He would have me do. And then, I compare notes with my husband and together we do whatever He tells us. I'm just happy He's given me such nice things to do.

All these years later

I don't talk about cancer very much. I write about it occasionally, but I rarely talk about. I am not sure I even really know why. I just don't. Maybe because it's likely that I will cry somewhere in the conversation and that messes up my contacts and makes it hard to see. More likely it's because some things we just ponder in our hearts forever.

Yesterday was the 20th anniversary of my diagnosis. It was most extraordinary day. We were living in the afterglow of Confirmation night. We were looking forward to some exciting days ahead. But mostly, we were just savoring ordinary life. I love ordinary life. Exciting things are nice. Drama is not nice. But ordinary life is where joy lives for me.

Cancer is a gift in the sense that I know very well what it's like towake up one morning and get a phone call that threatens my very existence. I know what it's like to want only to do the little things--to fix breakfast for my baby, to go for a walk before naptime, to pull weeds, or push a swing. And so, I have a tremendous sense of gratitude for those things because I look at them through the lens of a cancer survivor. I don't waste time. I don't ever waste time. I appreciate the gift of ordinary days and I see how God is faithful in all things.

I'm challenging myself more than ever to live life like it's a gift. What about you? Will you live today that way?

I'd love it if you took a few moments today to share a cup of tea and listen in to the conversation I had with Lisa Hendey and Danielle Bean yesterday. We're talking about the gift of cancer.

April the 29th

And the tulips are blooming, again.It's been eighteen years since I was diagnosed with cancer. I was thinking yesterday about what ran through my mind the morning after the biopsy surgery. I was very much concerned with my eighteen-month-old nursling. In the near term, there was the formidable task of weaning before chemo. In the far term, loomed the fear that I wouldn't see him grow up.  He's grown now. 
And he's weaned, too;-)
But when I wasn't thinking about Michael, I thought about the oddest random things. What's even odder is that I still remember them.

• I thought about whether I'd live to make pesto of the basil I'd just planted.
• I thought about whether scrunchies--the latest hair craze--would still be in style by the time I had enough hair to again make a ponytail.
• I thought about how much I wanted out of the hospital gown and into a pair of jean shorts and a hoodie.
• I thought about how much I looked forward to going home and washing my kitchen floor (weird, I know, but I loved the smell of Murphy's oil soap on the afternoon breeze while Michael napped and I chatted with my friend Martha on the phone and mopped).
• I thought about how eager I was to get to church and make a good confession and spend some time alone with God.
• I thought about how little I knew about what the Church teaches.

Cancer brings you face to face with mortality in a way that is startlingly real. For me, it brought an unquenchable thirst to know God, and then, a longing to love and to serve Him. And it was the Church from whom I drank deeply. I am still caught by surprise when I encounter lifetime Catholics who have never thought to read the Catechism, who don't know what the Magesterium is, who haven't read a single thing written by John Paul II, or still haven't taken the time to get to Benedict XVI. Don't they care? Don't they know the treasure they have been given? Don't they want to know why we live and why we die?God himself gave us this Church to shelter us and to teach us and to heal us. Time is short--even if you're perfectly healthy. God calls you to Him with urgency.

Life-threatening illness is great way to understand very well how short our lives here are compared to eternity. When one is ill, she yearns to be healed. If one has faith, and is facing a serious illness, she yearns for physical healing, but even more, she yearns to be spiritually whole and healthy. It's a tremendous gift of grace to know that we are wounded and to know where to go for healing. I found healing in the Catholic Church. She nurtured me and she continues to bring me to the Great Physician. There is no doubt that with cancer comes suffering, and not just for the person who is sick. My whole family suffered. But with that suffering and with healing came an understanding that God allows us to suffer in order to bring us closer to Him. And if we will come closer, we will be consoled and we will be cured.

{repost from the archives}