"I suddenly saw...that you could want something your whole life but realize in the moment of achieving your desire that it couldn't save you the way you always thought it could, that it could in fact change you irrevocably into someone you didn't know and would not want to be."
-- John Tilden speaking in "Shame" by Greg Garrett
Billy Rimmer asked me out once. Well, he suggested “we give it a try sometime.” This is a boy I’d had a crush on for the past five years since 5th grade. He was a blond haired blue eyed boy, outgoing, athletic. I had known every girl he’d ever dated and I knew too that I wasn’t like any of them. They were much more cute, athletic, and well, just plain popular. Yet here he was on the phone with me – it was probably me that called him – suggesting that “who knows, it might work out." I chuckled, hesitated, then declined, saying, “If I went out with you now, it would only be because I’ve always wanted to, not because I really care about you. I’d be doing it only because it’s something I’ve always wanted to do, not really because I think there would be any chance of it working between us.” I’m not sure he understood my reasoning. I’m not even sure I knew how it was that I was able to pass up such an opportunity at age 15. But I did. I was wise back then, very wise.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Saturday, March 14, 2009
park day
I went to the park yesterday. I go once a month, and for those few hours, I get to escape all the petty annoyances of my life and just immerse myself in nature. I get to be surrounded by children’s laughter and women asking me, “How are you doing?” rather than, “How do you do it?” They don’t view me as extraordinary or unusual because they have a daily routine just as challenging as my own.
We know each other well, we know each other’s kids, we’ve held each other’s babies. It’s a nice group of moms. Whenever I consider giving up on my “profession” I continue because of them. There were about fifteen families at the park yesterday. I conversed with various clusters of individuals. The topics centered around quality healthcare which takes a minimalist approach on medications and vaccinations, proper ways to receive the sacraments, the difficulties encountered when ensuring the moral upbringing of our children, ways to be charitable toward neighbors while still warding off their negative influences on our families.
This unique group of mine, so conservative and quaint, concerns themselves with topic most people never consider. Yet I admire them because these women are thoughtful, passionate, and authentic. I’ve never received a scoff or stare or snide remark from any one of them. They are all friendly, even if I don’t quite know some of them well enough to call them friends.
There were at least fifty kids on the playground yesterday. Not a single skirmish occurred. It rarely does. Sometimes sand gets thrown on a little tot’s head. But there’s hardly ever pushing or shoving, name calling or teasing. I can expect my kids to enjoy themselves while we’re there.
And I can expect to enjoy myself too.
We know each other well, we know each other’s kids, we’ve held each other’s babies. It’s a nice group of moms. Whenever I consider giving up on my “profession” I continue because of them. There were about fifteen families at the park yesterday. I conversed with various clusters of individuals. The topics centered around quality healthcare which takes a minimalist approach on medications and vaccinations, proper ways to receive the sacraments, the difficulties encountered when ensuring the moral upbringing of our children, ways to be charitable toward neighbors while still warding off their negative influences on our families.
This unique group of mine, so conservative and quaint, concerns themselves with topic most people never consider. Yet I admire them because these women are thoughtful, passionate, and authentic. I’ve never received a scoff or stare or snide remark from any one of them. They are all friendly, even if I don’t quite know some of them well enough to call them friends.
There were at least fifty kids on the playground yesterday. Not a single skirmish occurred. It rarely does. Sometimes sand gets thrown on a little tot’s head. But there’s hardly ever pushing or shoving, name calling or teasing. I can expect my kids to enjoy themselves while we’re there.
And I can expect to enjoy myself too.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Woman and Man
A woman and a man are in a bedroom together.
The woman drapes herself over some pillows on the bed. Her eyes are half closed, looking toward the man. Her head is tilted back, her lips parted. Her arm lies across the pillows, reaching out toward the man. Her other arm lies on her chest, her fingers brushing over her breast. Her back is slightly arched and her legs separated as the foot of one leg rests against the knee of the other.
The man stands at the window. His eyes are wide open, side glancing out toward the street. His head is lowered, his lips pressed together. His arm bars the window while the other hangs by his side. His back is straight and his footing sure.
What does this image display? Why are the man and the woman both appealing in their own ways?
The woman relies on the man’s protection. She waits for him to come to her. She knows he will come when he perceives that she is safe. She leaves herself vulnerable on the bed, her neck and torso exposed. Her fingers direct him to the part of her that nurtures. Her open legs beckon the seed-bearer into her garden. She is in a welcoming position of surrender and she is completely alluring.
The man exhibits self control. He knows the woman is completely available to him at this moment, but he first patrols the area, making sure no danger lurks around. He faces the woman, but keeps an eye on the world. He is alert and prepared to battle whoever poses as a threat to the woman whom he holds as his greatest treasure. He will ease his mind and fully enter into her embrace only when he is certain that all is secure. He displays confidence and patience and he is utterly appealing.
As twisted as our gender-confused world is at times, I find it fascinating that we can still find so many signs of what women and men innately find attractive. All you have to do to test this out is imagine the man stretched out on the bed and the woman standing guard at the window. Ridiculous!
Women are called to surrender and nurture. We think of these as weak, martyrish qualities. But in truth, it takes a strong woman to give herself completely, with total trust, time and again. A woman who remains protective of herself inadvertently belittles the man, which leads him to either abandon or dominate her.
Men are called to protect and maintain self control. We think of these as brutish, stoic qualities. Yet it takes a determined man to patiently await the proper time for taking what is offered to him. A man who remains ruled by his passions instills fear in the woman, which causes her to close herself off to him.
Our culture continues to define and redefine what it means to be a woman and a man. I believe though that we will never completely turn from those qualities to which we are innately called.
The woman drapes herself over some pillows on the bed. Her eyes are half closed, looking toward the man. Her head is tilted back, her lips parted. Her arm lies across the pillows, reaching out toward the man. Her other arm lies on her chest, her fingers brushing over her breast. Her back is slightly arched and her legs separated as the foot of one leg rests against the knee of the other.
The man stands at the window. His eyes are wide open, side glancing out toward the street. His head is lowered, his lips pressed together. His arm bars the window while the other hangs by his side. His back is straight and his footing sure.
What does this image display? Why are the man and the woman both appealing in their own ways?
The woman relies on the man’s protection. She waits for him to come to her. She knows he will come when he perceives that she is safe. She leaves herself vulnerable on the bed, her neck and torso exposed. Her fingers direct him to the part of her that nurtures. Her open legs beckon the seed-bearer into her garden. She is in a welcoming position of surrender and she is completely alluring.
The man exhibits self control. He knows the woman is completely available to him at this moment, but he first patrols the area, making sure no danger lurks around. He faces the woman, but keeps an eye on the world. He is alert and prepared to battle whoever poses as a threat to the woman whom he holds as his greatest treasure. He will ease his mind and fully enter into her embrace only when he is certain that all is secure. He displays confidence and patience and he is utterly appealing.
As twisted as our gender-confused world is at times, I find it fascinating that we can still find so many signs of what women and men innately find attractive. All you have to do to test this out is imagine the man stretched out on the bed and the woman standing guard at the window. Ridiculous!
Women are called to surrender and nurture. We think of these as weak, martyrish qualities. But in truth, it takes a strong woman to give herself completely, with total trust, time and again. A woman who remains protective of herself inadvertently belittles the man, which leads him to either abandon or dominate her.
Men are called to protect and maintain self control. We think of these as brutish, stoic qualities. Yet it takes a determined man to patiently await the proper time for taking what is offered to him. A man who remains ruled by his passions instills fear in the woman, which causes her to close herself off to him.
Our culture continues to define and redefine what it means to be a woman and a man. I believe though that we will never completely turn from those qualities to which we are innately called.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Crossing the roads of life.
A friend of mine recently told me that his biggest problem is his lack of faith. Lack of faith. I find this is a problem with a lot of people I’ve met lately. And I notice too that the people who have the biggest problem with faith are the people who have the biggest problem with trusting other people. They don’t want to get close to anybody because they are skeptical of other people’s motives. They stay away from words like “love” and “forever.” They don’t really believe that such concepts exist.
These people seem to only want to trust themselves. But too often I find that these are the same people who seem to be royally screwing up their own lives. They push away anyone who tries to care about them and they turn to substances to fill the ever-present void in their hearts. Essentially, they become addicts, enslaved to their own less-than-fulfilling passions. And then they have to ask the Dr. Phil question: How’s that workin’ for ya? Guess what, people – it’s not!
Sometimes I tell people the stories of my life – my choices regarding residential moves and growing my family and they tell me I have extraordinary faith. I am flattered by the compliment, but faith comes easily when you trust that another person truly does have your best interest in mind. If I picture myself as a child taking hold of my father’s hand as we cross the busy street, faith is not something to struggle with. It’s simply a matter of trust. I trust my father to lead me across that intersection and see that I safely reach the other side. It’s as simple as that.
Too often, we expect ourselves to reach the magical age when we will have all the answers in life. For me, it was twenty-three. I thought, “Surely, when I reach twenty-three, I will know everything there is to know about life.” Well guess what? When I reached twenty-three, I was a newlywed expecting my first child, terrified that I didn’t know any of the answers for all my all-important questions. Then I thought, “Maybe when I’m twenty-seven, I’ll know everything there is to know.” When I reached age twenty-seven, I was the mother of three children, trying to follow my passion of writing, not really knowing where I was going and having only a slightly better clue as to how to handle it all.
Over the years, I became friends with many other moms, women of all different ages, and I discovered something quite amazing: nobody has all the answers. There is no magical age of omniscience. We all are continuously bumbling through life, doing the best we can with what we have inherited, what we have experienced, and what we have studied. Many times, we just have to trust. We have to trust that all will work out for the best. We have to trust in other people. We have to have faith. We cannot make it alone.
These people seem to only want to trust themselves. But too often I find that these are the same people who seem to be royally screwing up their own lives. They push away anyone who tries to care about them and they turn to substances to fill the ever-present void in their hearts. Essentially, they become addicts, enslaved to their own less-than-fulfilling passions. And then they have to ask the Dr. Phil question: How’s that workin’ for ya? Guess what, people – it’s not!
Sometimes I tell people the stories of my life – my choices regarding residential moves and growing my family and they tell me I have extraordinary faith. I am flattered by the compliment, but faith comes easily when you trust that another person truly does have your best interest in mind. If I picture myself as a child taking hold of my father’s hand as we cross the busy street, faith is not something to struggle with. It’s simply a matter of trust. I trust my father to lead me across that intersection and see that I safely reach the other side. It’s as simple as that.
Too often, we expect ourselves to reach the magical age when we will have all the answers in life. For me, it was twenty-three. I thought, “Surely, when I reach twenty-three, I will know everything there is to know about life.” Well guess what? When I reached twenty-three, I was a newlywed expecting my first child, terrified that I didn’t know any of the answers for all my all-important questions. Then I thought, “Maybe when I’m twenty-seven, I’ll know everything there is to know.” When I reached age twenty-seven, I was the mother of three children, trying to follow my passion of writing, not really knowing where I was going and having only a slightly better clue as to how to handle it all.
Over the years, I became friends with many other moms, women of all different ages, and I discovered something quite amazing: nobody has all the answers. There is no magical age of omniscience. We all are continuously bumbling through life, doing the best we can with what we have inherited, what we have experienced, and what we have studied. Many times, we just have to trust. We have to trust that all will work out for the best. We have to trust in other people. We have to have faith. We cannot make it alone.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Too much love? Never.
Someone asked me yesterday, "Is there such a thing as too much love?" No. Never. Love is as infinite as the universe. We have to know what love really is though. Loving a person is wanting what is truly best for him as well as what is best for myself. It does not mean allowing myself to be used or mistreated. It is not in a person's best interest to be allowed to act selfishly.
Think of it in a parental manner. Parents lovingly deny a child many things which they know are not good for the child. They do this in an effort to teach self discipline and discernment. Also, when a child misbehaves, a parent lovingly chastises the child in an effort to prevent the child from larger troubles later on in life. Love is justice as well as mercy.
Sometimes we give and give and receive nothing in return. It is in those times that we are tempted toward bitterness and selfishness. We think, "What good is love anyway?" But if we continue on in love, it is then that we experience passion. It is then that we suffer with love. When we suffer with love, we want to pour out our lives for the sake of our loved one. We ache with longing that that person might be fulfilled.
That person is then seen not as someone for our own purposes, but as a wonderfully made creation. He is a son, a brother, a father, a comrade. She is a daughter, a sister, a mother, a companion. Love sees through pure eyes and expects nothing but hopes for everything in return.
Think of it in a parental manner. Parents lovingly deny a child many things which they know are not good for the child. They do this in an effort to teach self discipline and discernment. Also, when a child misbehaves, a parent lovingly chastises the child in an effort to prevent the child from larger troubles later on in life. Love is justice as well as mercy.
Sometimes we give and give and receive nothing in return. It is in those times that we are tempted toward bitterness and selfishness. We think, "What good is love anyway?" But if we continue on in love, it is then that we experience passion. It is then that we suffer with love. When we suffer with love, we want to pour out our lives for the sake of our loved one. We ache with longing that that person might be fulfilled.
That person is then seen not as someone for our own purposes, but as a wonderfully made creation. He is a son, a brother, a father, a comrade. She is a daughter, a sister, a mother, a companion. Love sees through pure eyes and expects nothing but hopes for everything in return.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
forgiveness and strength
So being the highly ritualized Catholic that I am, I often awake at 3am, end up saying a few decades of the Divine Mercy Chaplet for whomever and somewhere in the process, fall back to sleep. This has gone on for years and it happened again last night. I believe I was in the third decade, meditating on the crown of thorns, when I started to get really annoyed, frustrated, and angry. I was of course half awake, so it was all sort of dreamlike. I heard myself raging in my head, "I'm sick of caring about people who don't even give a shit about themselves. I'm tired of praying for people who don't even pray. I don't want to feel for a person who worships the sedation brought on by the bottle. Love hurts. I can't take it. It's easier not to bother."
These thoughts were new to me. It felt like the voice in my head was not my own, and being half asleep, I couldn't muster much energy to fight it. There was some sense that I really shouldn't be feeling that way, that I should pray all the more for those who don't know how to pray. But I was in a daze and couldn't help feeling like the people who want to kill themselves slowly with their favorite companion, alcohol, should just be left to die.
May the Lord forgive me for my selfishness. May he strengthen me to love tirelessly as he did.
These thoughts were new to me. It felt like the voice in my head was not my own, and being half asleep, I couldn't muster much energy to fight it. There was some sense that I really shouldn't be feeling that way, that I should pray all the more for those who don't know how to pray. But I was in a daze and couldn't help feeling like the people who want to kill themselves slowly with their favorite companion, alcohol, should just be left to die.
May the Lord forgive me for my selfishness. May he strengthen me to love tirelessly as he did.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
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