Being Catholic

I'm Catholic.

Yesterday, I had a chance to practice my faith and deepen my faith and share in it with Caroline as she prepares to make her 

Holy Communion next week-end.

We had a Bread Retreat for the entire second grade.

We made bread.

Simple. Humble. Delicious.

We said a blessing over every single ingredient:

"Bless this flour.  May it remind us of all who have helped us come so far.  

We pray for all people who work to make the world a better place."

"Bless this sugar.  May it help us to be sweet in our words and actions toward others."

"Bless this water -- a sign of our baptism.  May we always remember that we are God's children."

"Bless this milk.  It reminds us of our first food -- mother's milk.  Bless our mothers who love us and care for us each day."

"Bless this salt.  Life first began in the sea.  May we show respect for Life in how we treat all of God's creations."

"Bless this wheat flour -- it reminds us that change is hard.  The wheat had to grow in hot sun, be cut, ground and milled.  Sometimes we also struggle to do what is right.  Give us strength Lord."

Even the pans got a blessing:

"Bless these pans that give bread shape.  God has shaped us from the earth and love.  

May we remember that He is always there to help us and love us."

Honestly, the whole day is a lesson in being grateful for the most essential and simple items that we take for granted and barely notice.

It's humbling and beautiful and it fills me up for a good long while...like a cold, icy drink on that ragged, hot day...I am so so good after this retreat.

Caroline brought home her bread, eager to share it with all of us.

We had to wait until John got home from a business trip so we waited a day to break the bread together.

And in one day...a tiny blip of a few hours...

our priest was arrested and put in jail for statutory rape of a minor.

And that is being Catholic too.

(And I'm not being ironic.)

We are in this together.  There is no us vs. them.  We are all us. 

Always.

Bad things, terrible things, heartbreaking things are all around us.

Really good people make really bad choices every day.

People who you count on, disappoint.

Hell, we disappoint ourselves and the very people we love dearly, constantly.

It's messy being human.

It's hard to have moral courage day in and day out...damn near impossible.

It's shameful and heartbreaking and sometimes just plan sad.

But then we get moments like this:

And it all becomes really clear.

We only have each other...for a limited time at best.

Even when it's messy, scary, dangerous, or maybe especially when it is those things, 

we need to cling to each other.

Cling to the ancient wisdom that is our faith.

Cling to the holy words of St. Francis:

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.

Where there is hatred, let me sow love.

Where there is injury, pardon.

Where there is doubt, faith.

Where there is despair, hope.  

Where there is darkness, light.

Where there is sadness, joy.

Oh, Divine Master, grant that I may

not so much seek to be consoled, as to console.

To be understood, as to understand.

To be loved, as to love.

For it's in giving that we receive.

And it's in pardoning that we are pardoned.

And it's in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Amen.

Somehow.some.way.we find comfort that this messy crazy world has been just like this for thousands of years...full of broken people doing their best  -- and failing quite often.

Still in this world of sadness, disappointment, loss, ignorance and hatred there is the beauty.  

Unmistakeable beauty.

It is full to the brim with miracles like water and salt and sugar and love and redemption and second chances and new life...

over and over again.

For some people, faith seems ridiculous.

Laughable.

For me, especially in times like these...it's the only thing that makes sense.

It is a comfort to know that others have been right here in the middle of their messy, broken lives and found a way.

It's a comfort to rest in the words, the prayers and the basic truths that are my faith.

I'm going to wait for the light.

It's coming.

I have faith.

Until then, I'll make my peace with the dark.

For that's what makes the light even more beautiful.

Falling Down

Caroline loves to roller blade.

Most mornings she puts them on first thing and as soon as she is home from school, 

they are back on her feet.  

She's content to roll around the kitchen and living room in and endless loop.

She roller blades outside in the back yard.  

She insists that it is "blading" and always corrects me if I ask her to take her skates off.

She eats dinner with them on.

She does homework with them on.

She reads books or watches TV and forgets that she has something attached to her body.

She's a wee bit obsessed.

Her happiest time of the day is when we walk our dog, Buddy.

She can rollerblade through the neighborhood at supersonic speed.

She hunches over like a roller derby queen and speeds up and goes as fast as her risky self will allow --

which is awful fast to an onlooking mom.

She's gotten good...like I said, they're beginning to just be a part of her body.

She is now practicing tricks -- like jumping over cracks in the sidewalk, or doing the
ice-skating maneuver of the one-leg-in-the-air-glide.

She's confident and proud.

And then a tiny stick got in her way.

She loves this one driveway we pass each day.

It has a big U-shaped driveway and she whizzes up one side of the U and spins and
whizzes down the other the side at top notch speed.  

One time she did it 11 times back and forth...even I was getting dizzy.

And then the unthinkable happened...she bit the dust.

It wasn't a horrible wipe-out as wipe outs go -- but she got a sizable scrape on the side of her belly and nothing else...but a big ole sense of what just happened?

She was shocked.  Stunned.  

Mortified and mad.

She was quiet as she roller-bladed home -- defeated -- and I couldn't yet tell just how injured she was so I didn't push.

At the injury inspection I made a comment about how it wasn't that bad...but she couldn't even respond.

Big, heaving, gasping cries came over her.

Tears and more tears.

I tried to cajole her into the shower...no go.

Tried to be soothing and understanding...not working.

I tried the brush-off -- really, kid, you're good...complete flop.

Then I just picked her up and undressed her and plopped a wailing, inconsolable kid into the tub.

She resisted the water, not wanting her scrape to sting, but I insisted, 

which only amped up the situation.

I noticed her forehead...speckled with red splotches like she used to get as an infant after crying really hard...and I tried to tell her it was all going to be okay...back to soothing as an option.

Finally, she leaned back into the water and let it all comfort her and released that soggy sigh that all people release after that final burst of crying, but somehow with kids it tends to be the checkered flag.  We made it.

I tried to help her notice it..."Look, Caroline, you made it over the hump.  You're going to be OK."

A tiny voice and tear-filled bue eyes looked up, 

"I think it was a stick." she reflected.

"It might have been, baby.  But, you need to know that the reason you like roller-blading is partly because of this right here.  You enjoy it because you feel excited.  You know you could fall down.  You accept that part...and you love when you don't."

"But sometimes you do."

"And then, you just have to get back up...and try again."

She slowly got out of the tub.

I snuggled my fresh-from-the-tub-girl -- a treat that rarely happens anymore.

I held her for the briefest of moments and treasured this chance.

I'm so grateful to be able to help her up and comfort her...

I hate it when they fall...

any of them.any.time.

But isn't that where so much of the real learning happens?

We all fall down.

We must get back up.

There really is no choice.

We can cry and scream and blame the stick but it doesn't matter...we will fall.

It's what happens after the fall that matters.

Speak Up

"Nearly all men can stand adversity,

but if you want to test a man's character, give him power."

--Abraham Lincoln

Holy Moly!  We have a full "As The World Turns" going on in my little town.

It's crazy.

It's ludicrous.

It would be something worth talking about if it didn't involve coaches and kids...make that one kid.

But maybe that makes it even more worth talking about.

We have a school board that governs our schools.

We have 8 elementary schools; three junior high schools; three high schools and a whole group of people who choose 

"independent study".

That's a lot of students, gobs of teachers and plenty of administrators for five people to attempt to guide.

It's a thankless job.

Let's establish that right now.

There are long hours, lots of emotion, endless need and never enough money.

Very, very few take the time to thank our school board.

Plenty find a way to complain.

That's the nature of the beast.

I have a good friend who has just begun her tenure on a school board in a neighboring town.

As a teacher and a parent and a citizen, I get it...big time.

However, it's time to shed some light.

What is going on??

Who is in charge?

Is it really possible for one parent who is on the school board to demand an "investigation" about their one child getting cut from a sports team -- that actually costs over $22,000 -- and not have a full rebellion from all parents, educators, administrators and anyone else who cares about our schools and our town???

Is it really possible to stay quiet and just feel disappointed??

Let's start with some unpleasant facts...if you're on the school board it is your job to stay neutral and on the side of the schools.

Yes, even if your own child gets cut from a team and you feel it was unfair.

Even if you feel that the coach is doing a poor job.

You are supposed to have faith in the system you are a part of...you are supposed to trust the process.

It is a breach of your privilege of being on the school board to actively work to fire a coach.ever.

Frankly, you shouldn't have that level of power.

Once that process began, the rest of the school board had the hard job of confronting a person who was misusing her position of power.

The rest of the school board has shirked its duties.over and over again.

Allowing $22,000 to be spent on an "investigation" about one student and one coach is unconscionable.

Let's list some things that $22,000 could be used for in our district:

1) a half time school counselor at the high school level

2) 44 Ipads to use in any school

3) a new roof on any school 

4) updated heating/cooling system

5) professional growth for an entire staff or two at a school site.

5) filling an entire school library with new books

We still don't know who authorized the "investigation" -- we don't know why the "investigation" created a 72 page report -- and we don't know why it cost $22,000.

We have a right to know and to see through these proceedings.

After all, we're paying the tab!

When we are quiet about this as citizens, guess who loses?

Our kids.

Our teachers.

Our coaches.

Those coaches work for a pittance.

They have to deal with way too much as it is already to allow this disgrace to go unfettered.

Coaches need respect.

Coaches need positive support.

Coaches are doing the best they can.

Can they do better?

Sure.

We all can.

Yes. Students get cut from teams.

That's how competitive teams work.

If you don't like that, don't participate.

Yes. My own children got cut from teams.

And yes, I watched someone get cut from a team in part because of the way she spoke to her mother on the phone.

The captain of that team made a comment to the coach about that behavior and yes, that mattered.

It should.

It speaks to how that person would be on a team and as a team-mate.

Should a person be cut from a team because his/her parents are difficult??

Well, that's up to the coach.

And, yes, that's his/her call to make.

We need to stop what we're doing as individuals in our town and let our kids and teachers and coaches know how important they are.

We need to speak up.

Someone's got to...

because when we're silent, we give the impression that it's all  okay.

And, ummmmm it's not.

Not even a little.

We give the impression that we're fine with it.

And, I'm not.

Not.at.all.

Where's the grace???

In the coaches and teachers and students who still have faith.

Who still trust the process.

Who believe that it will all work out, 

if they just keep working hard and keep their eyes on the prize.

It's for them that I write this.

You, yes you, are my inspiration.

Keep at it.

We've got your back.

Life

What do you think makes for a happy life?

Truth is...it's not much.

Something to love.

Something to hope for.

Something to do.

Those are the "grand essentials" of happiness...if you have that, you are pretty much batting 1000.

Sometimes we go through times where we are out of balance:

I have too much to do and nothing to love.

My dreams feel out of reach...my "hope for" is a joke.

My "something to do" feels mind-numbing and monotonous.

But, the process of life forces us to find a way to make room for the big three.

And when we do...it's magic...poof: happiness.

So, on this anniversary of the biggest decision of our courts to allow abortion to be legalized I want to ask all of you...

are we better off choosing death over life?

Does our world see the sacredness of life?

In our world of technology and amazing photography we can all clearly see that life in utero is most definitely going on in there.

We have fingernails and toes and full 3-D images that show perfect profiles of the children within.

Can we at least establish that the "clump of cells" concept is out dated?

That's no clump of cells...there's a full fledged human in there.

Now, that human might not be convenient.

It might be the object of very bad timing.

It might be born into poverty or sadness or a messed up world.

But what it takes to be a full-fledged human baby is so miraculous it deserves that chance.

With abortion, we've accepted the idea that life is a convenience.

We have swallowed the idea that some lives are worth living and others are not.

We've been enveloped in a world that takes the sacred and the holy out of conception and birth.

Anyone who has been witness to a birth knows that it is sacred ground.

A portal.

A passage from another world and into ours.

Shutting that down seems like an impossibility but the side that embraces abortion has done just that.

What are the odds that a baby will arrive in your life?

None of us know.

We can try and try and try and still be infertile.

We can have one child and be unable to have another.

We can have sex one time and find ourselves pregnant.

It's a crapshoot.

It always is.

And that's the beauty of it.

It's a leap of faith.

A crazy idea.

A wild, unbelievable blessing.

A miracle.

Yes, friends, every.single.baby.is a full-fledged miracle.

Healthy or not.

Poor or not.

Crack-addicted or not.

Miracle.

Out of the everywhere and into the here.

I have a child that the world views as disposable.

People have asked me "if I knew"...insinuating in the most despicable way (but always with the brightest smile and most interested face) that if I had known I might have chosen better...

I always answer that I did know -- in my heart, with the strongest premonition I've ever had -- but all of my tests came back 

all-clear.  Including my favorite one, the ultrasound where the technician pointed out all four chambers of Patrick's tiny baby heart, when in fact, he was born with no chambers and needed open heart surgery almost immediately.

Yes, I have a child that many, many people believe should be terminated...his life is too terrible, 

too burdensome, too much trouble to be allowed to breathe another breath.

Ummmm, not really.

Tonight, I had a regular old boring night.
I made breakfast for dinner.
Walked Caroline through the basics of borrowing in subtraction.
Found my son who is "disabled" more able than me with our TV system...finagling some way to watch You Tube on our TV?!?
Read books with both Patrick and Caroline before bed.
Listened to their prayers.
Cleaned up some dishes.
Procrastinated, yet again, on making lunches for tomorrow.

Not one time did I wish my son wasn't born.
Not one time did I watch him interact with his sister and think anything other than I wish they would stop annoying each other.
Not one time.

Babies are miracles.every.single.one.
My prayer is that some day our entire world can hold sacred every life:
the unwanted, the inconvenient, the disabled, the difficult, the very old and fragile.
Every life.

I don't believe any of this is a "choice".
Gifts that are given.
People waiting, just waiting, to rock your world...
one tiny baby footprint at a time.

Tonight, I am grateful for my children.
Grateful for all of the children I have been privileged to know and love.
I am also profoundly grateful for the gift of life...most especially my own.
Ordinary.
Clumsy.
Messy and funny.
Thank you God for this sacred time of being alive.
Man, is it beautiful.

Something Weird

"And I got out of there without punching anyone, kicking anyone, or breaking down in tears.  Some days the small victories are all you achieve." -- Molly Ringle

Do you have somebody that you have to deal with that is a jerk with a capital "J"?

I do.  

And here's the weird part.  He's a priest.  He should be holy and kind and full of compassion.

Instead he just points out what you're doing that isn't holy enough.  He's full of criticism, instead of acceptance.  He's focused on things instead of people.  He is literally as UNpriest-like as you can get.

You interact with him and shake your head.  It doesn't make sense.  The dots don't connect.  

I can hardly believe it myself.

I mean, honestly...why on earth did you become a priest if all we do as a parish just makes you crazy??

It's been a weird dilemma.  

I'm all about giving chances and dealing with change.  I like new experiences and new people.  I want to like this guy I really do, but the vibe is negative...real negative.

And how do you deal with negative when he's a priest...someone who automatically receives your respect and admiration just by his holy dedication to his vocation??

Guess what...turns out that I don't do well in that regard.

Turns out, I lost it.

I let him have it.

I gave my priest a dressing down and still I can't believe I did that.

(No...he's not doing anything criminal...just not very priest-like either.)

What was I thinking?  

Why didn't I do deep breathing...meditation...visualization...words of affirmation??

I only lasted six months with this guy.

Six months.

There aren't enough Hail Mary's, Our Father's or Glory Be's that could get me through.

I cracked.

And this is where the weird part comes in...

even though the guy makes me boil and tense up every muscle in my body...

I have suddenly been faced with a truth that Catholics don't like to face.

Those poor guys are human.  They are doing an inhuman job.

I've been blessed to know a number of priests that have made it look easy. 

Darling Monsignor Wade, Father Looney, Father Bong, Father Richard...these have been the men that have literally "oozed kindness and the love of Christ out of their pores" as my dental hygienist described it.

I was spoiled by strong leaders and great men who are kind and compassionate at their core.

We ask them to be the face of Christ...demand it...and yet, when do they get an "off day"

or year...or decade?

The answer: never.

Catholic parish priests have to keep it together, remain holy and kind, even in the darkest of times.

This man is dealing with something...it's obvious.

He's out on a ledge and swinging.

He deserves some help and I'm sad to say all I gave him was my two cents.

Two cents too much, I'm sure.

How about living the compassion, Beth?

How about walking the walk?

Somehow, it's a whole lot harder with a priest.

So...I guess I'm grateful for learning very late in life that priests are human and NEED our compassion.

They need options and they need to be not so isolated.

How does a priest get help??

I have no idea.

I pray for patience, for understanding and for guidance...we all need it.  Some more than others...

trust me.

One Day Without Shoes

"There are people in the world so hungry, that God cannot appear to them except in the form of bread." -- Mahatma Gandhi

I got my first pair of  Tom's shoes from Jack for my birthday two years ago.  They were red, flat and comfy.  They also allowed another person to have a pair of shoes...that's the mission of Tom's: to give away shoes to people who don't have any.

It's hard to imagine someone not having a single pair of shoes.  Not one.

I don't know anybody like this.  In fact, I'm pretty sure I don't anybody who has only one pair of shoes.  Infants in my world, who can't even stand up -- let alone walk, have several pairs.  Shoes are a part of our life.  Like breathing, we barely think about it.  As women, they are something we talk about, window shop for, discuss at parties, and buy.  We have flip flops, clogs, boots, rainboots, sandals, ballet flats, espadrilles, wedges, Uggs, stilettos, running shoes, cross-trainers, tennis shoes, Keds, Candies, and let's not forget the dreadful Crocs.  We have so many shoe options that we decide which pair to wear based on the event and quite often change our shoes throughout the day.

Shoes makes us happy.

When Jack gave me that first pair of Tom's, I was appreciative and pleased to see someone I loved do a bit for charity but I actually thought, "What's the point?  Of all the things someone may need, why shoes?  Why not clean water? Or farming techniques? Or clean clothes? Or medicine?"
I had no idea the incredible need.


Here are a few facts from the Tom's website:

•  30,000 people LIVE in just one landfill in the Philippines,where children walk over broken glass, syringes and debris everyday.  
• 1,890,000 Kenyan children are infected with jiggers -- burrowing fleas that cause painful leasions.
• 4,000,000 people have podoconiosis -- a debilitating and disfiguring disease caused by living barefoot in volcanic soil.
• 740,000,000 people are affected by hookworm -- a soil-transmitted parasite that can cause intestinal pain, weakness and cognitive impairment.
• Shoes, in some areas of the world, are required for children to attend school.  

No shoes = No education!

So I decided to attempt the Tom's challenge and go "one day without shoes".  It was a cold and rainy day at my house but I didn't have to go many places and so I thought it was possible.  One day.  How hard can that be?  It might be kind of fun...

Well, almost as soon as I began I wanted some socks at the very least.  I decided that was definitely cheating and far too wimpy so I nixed the sock option.  I hung around my house barefoot...no biggie.  Then I had to walk the dog in the rain and barefoot.  It felt odd, a bit uncomfortable but it wasn't too bad.    I felt a little free-spirited and frisky...I was doing it.  I came home and wanted to cover up those cold tootsies in a blanket but that was too close to cheating too.

Most of the day, I hung around barefoot and felt annoyed with having cold feet.  I didn't even stub a toe.

Then  I decided to head to the grocery store.  It wasn't entirely fair since I picked a grocery store known for fair trade coffee and organic produce.  I knew that if I was questioned, chances were good that they might side with me.  Since it was still raining and I might track something into the store, I felt very conspicuous.  I thought everyone would notice...hardly anyone did.  But suddenly I felt vulnerable and like a cultural weirdo.  I felt out of place, cold and ridiculous.  (I could only imagine what my 16 year old daughter would say if she saw me!)

I shopped for about 20 minutes and no one mentioned a thing.  (To be honest, I did go out of my way to avoid employees as I was worried they might kick me out of the store.)  As I was checking out, the man behind me mentioned that I had no shoes to the clerk and asked me if I was cold.  I felt embarrassed but told them the reason.  The clerk gave his support and approval.  The guy behind me gave me body language and eye rolling that let me know he thought I was whacked.  As I was walking out of the store, a mom with a ten year old saw my bare feet and told her son: "Look!  That lady has no shoes on and she's out in this weather.  Some people are crazy."  I felt a little crazy and a whole lot out of my comfort zone but then I thought about the millions of people who have no choice.

When I got home I was sorely tempted by the thought of socks again but I stayed strong.  All night long and even on the second walk of my faithful furry friend, Buddy, I stayed barefoot.  By the end I was desperate.  I wanted comfort, warmth and protection.  I didn't get it until my feet snuggled into the bottom of my bed.

Today I couldn't wait to put on my socks and all day my feet and I savored the comfort of my shoes.  But I also couldn't stop thinking about the millions of people who have no shoes to put on today.  As I tied my children's shoes and looked up into their eyes, I could see other people's children and felt not just guilty but heartbroken for those kids who can't go to school simply because they don't have a pair of shoes.

It's an indignity to have no shoes, but it is inhumane to deny someone an education because of it. You are crushing a future, squashing hope and frankly forcing someone into despair. The child just doesn't lose, we all lose.  When someone is denied their chance to learn and grow, it's impossible to imagine the ripples of loss that will continue.

It seems that my "one day without shoes" is going to last a lot longer than twenty four hours.  Today I am grateful for the sole and the soul of my shoes that afforded me comfort, protection and an education -- gifts that I took for granted for my entire life until yesterday. Better yet, I am humbled by the heart and soul of one man's vision to give shoes to the world...comfort, protection, education and hope all wrapped in a shoebox -- one pair at a time.