Do you have Room for Jesus...and His family...and their Donkey...oh and a bunch of Shepherds and 3 Kings?

We just had a great holiday season, two 3 day weekends in a row!! Both weekends for us were really joyful time spent with family and friends. But I keep wondering, "was there room for Jesus at our celebrations?" I can't quite shake those words that are read at Mass each Christmas as they explain why Jesus was born in a manger: "There was no room for them at the inn." Luke 2:7.


I'd like to think that I wouldn't have turned Jesus away. That I would have opened my home and made room. I'd like to think that I would have offered the master suite and stayed in the barn myself so that my king might have a warm place to sleep. But the words keep replaying in my head because I know I probably would have been just like all of them. They had a lot going on I'm sure. They were probably already hosting other family or friends who had also come to town because of the census. Hosting travelers meant feeding them too, and they probably could barely feed their own families. I would like to think that I wouldn't have taken one look at the woman clearly about to give birth and closed my door on the mess and trouble that that would make for me.
The truth is though, that over these "holiday's" there's not one single person I invited to join our family gathering. There wasn't room. There wasn't time. The other guests might be offended or uncomfortable. It might be messy or more intimate than I want to be with a stranger. I want Christmas to be special for my kids, and that might take away my focus on them. There are a lot of reasons, all pretty similar to those who turned the Holy Family down 2000 years ago. We don't blame them, we get it. And yet, we need to learn from it. It's clearly an important lesson since God elevated it by including it in the story of how He entered the world.


For Christmas my kids did a "sacrifice manger" where they put a piece of straw in a pretend manger for Jesus every time they do something kind for another person or make a sacrifice. The goal is to show them how their kindness makes a softer bed for Jesus, and makes Him happy. Being the on-the-ball mom that I am (ha) I had meant to paint this iPhone case to be used as the manger but didn't get it painted so we just started using it as-is. The kids' imaginations didn't have a problem with it, so I never painted it. I stared at it a lot during advent and I thought it actually was the perfect picture as I wondered if there was room in my life for Jesus.

(The "Advent Log" in the background was a gift from a wonderful man named Leo, he sells them on etsy if you're wondering where you can get one yourself, they are beautiful!)

It's not just about inviting others into our homes, it's that Jesus has to be more than just a temporary houseguest or even one who lives permanently in the spare bedroom. He really has to take over our whole house, our whole lives. And a lot of us, most of us, are too busy for that. Is there room in my PHONE for Jesus? Would I give up my phone for Jesus? Because I spend a LOT of time on it. And I don't even do social media anymore. Just texting, making calls, looking up things online, reading an article, its a lot of time.
Would giving up my phone have helped Mary and Joseph find a place to stay? No. The point is that no one had room in their homes, in their lives or in their hearts for Jesus. But He came anyway. Maybe it's time for all of us to make room. To put our phones down and encounter Jesus in the people around us. To use our time more wisely and make better choices with our commitments. Do the things we spend our time on really matter, would they matter if Mary and Joseph were standing outside our door?
Right now, in the state of Minnesota alone, 156 kids are waiting to be adopted. Those are children whose parental rights have already been terminated and have probably been in foster care for at least a year and probably multiple years. That's not including the much larger number of children in foster care right now. Do you have room?
I know, it's probably not a good time, there's probably a lot going on, and the house is crowded already. And I want to be the first to tell you that it won't be easy and isn't for the faint of heart because these children have been through serious trauma and need serious love and help, the kind of love that loves when it's not returned. You won't be just inviting one child into your home but their extended family and a lot of emotional baggage. Jesus came with Mary and Joseph and a donkey and ended up with a bunch of shepherds and 3 Kings too!  But you know the secret from the Christmas story? All of the people whose lives were too full for Mary and Joseph went on with their lives that night and had no idea what they were missing, while the cows and sheep shared a room with God himself. What gifts and miracles and blessings might God reveal to us if we are willing to make room? "Whoever welcomes one child in my name welcomes me." Mt 18:5
I'm not saying that everyone who reads this post should adopt a child. I'm asking you to join me in evaluating how much room in our lives we have for Jesus. Maybe you do have room in your heart, your life and your home for another child, adopted or biological. Maybe you could do some rearranging to have more time for worship. Maybe you could invite another friend into your group, not because you need another friend but because they do. I know, among many things, I could do better to slow down and notice the lonely and offer the conversation and hugs they are missing.
What, or who, might you have room for? You know the answer He's already speaking in your heart, be brave and say "Yes" this time. A miracle just might be waiting.


And here's the link to the kids waiting to be adopted in MN should your heart be leading you there.

Right Where I'm Meant to Be...Waiting

"Most Sacred Heart of Jesus I Trust In You"

Those are the words that have stained my chalkboard.  I spent a considerable amount of time drawing them up there more than 5 months ago, outlining with different colors, accentuating certain words. I usually quickly toss a bible verse or quote up there and it stays for a few days or a week until something else comes across that I want to replace it with. But this phrase I just couldn’t erase.  Maybe it’s because I felt erasing it would mean I didn’t trust God. Maybe it’s because I thought M would come home before I had to erase it. Most likely it’s because I still need the reminder. Some days I believe it and it makes me happy to see it. Other days I doubt and I need to remember that I believed it on the day I wrote it.

Of course I trust God, my whole life has been scene after scene of Him showing me He is trustworthy, and especially when things look bleak. When it’s the darkest has often been when He has chosen to create light. But it’s so easy to get caught in the “waiting place” as Dr. Seuss calls it. When something bad happens and we wait for it to get better. We wait to feel better again. We wait for a new friend or boyfriend to come along. We wait for a new job or a new opportunity. We wait for our pain to heal. And sometimes we get impatient in the waiting. It takes longer than we think it should. And that’s when we start to lose hope. We start to think maybe He isn’t coming. Maybe He won’t calm this storm. Maybe this is too trivial for Him to concern Himself with. Maybe He doesn’t care.

It’s been more than 5 months since I read M a bed time story. It’s been more than 5 months since she ran and giggled through the house. It’s been more than 5 months since she said she was thankful for “mommy” at meal prayer or played hide and seek with Dan. I stared at those words on the chalk board today realizing I never expected to need them for 5 months. I thought it would be better by now. I thought you would heal this situation or heal my pain. But here I am, 5 months later, still figuring out how to navigate each day with one child absent, still waiting for you to step in.

She visited us this weekend. It was such a blessing and incredible joy to hold her and see her smile and giggle and play with her brothers and sister. And yet, it’s so heartbreaking to watch them and know we are saying goodbye in a few hours, to see the hurt in her eyes when I know she’s wondering where I’ve been. How do you grieve someone who is running around laughing in your living room? How does this become the new normal where my daughter lives with someone else? How do I laugh and play with her while my heart is breaking? How do I pull her onto my lap and read books through a cracking voice and fighting back tears?

Life is messy. It doesn’t stay neatly in the lines we’d like to draw where joy begins and sorrow ends. We have this desire for perfection that someday I believe we will experience in heaven. But I’m more and more convinced that learning how to live in the “mess” is what we must do here on earth.

The Sacred Heart of Jesus teaches us that it isn’t a simple waiting time of pain that will be erased as soon as the situation changes or I am given the grace to heal. But that right here in this place is where God needs me to learn how to be. That the Heart of Jesus always feels, at the same moment, an incredible love for us and an incredible sorrow for the pain of losing those He loves and the pain we inflict on each other in the world. The joy of love and the pain caused by sin. The heart of Jesus feels these on such an amazing level. ALL THE TIME. Maybe then, He is calling me to enter into His heart itself. To understand a tiny fraction of the way he loves and hurts all at the same time. To realize that it doesn’t come and go, it’s not something we can wait for it to pass, but that we must learn to live and thrive during.

I caught a short segment of a PBS special the other day where an author was talking about how differently they used to treat the season of Winter. Everything they did on the farm was because of winter. They labored all summer, spring and fall to make sure they had what they needed to survive winter. It forced them to always focus on winter, because if they didn’t, they wouldn’t survive. Because of the way our lives have changed, we have lost this “respect” or focus on winter. Our lives aren’t ordered to it, it’s simply something we endure or get through for a few months.

What if we are missing something? What if the very season that we hope to just quickly pass through, is in fact the most important one we are meant to live? What if the mess, the suffering, the heartbreak, the most unthinkable pain and loss are really the main events that God is using to change our hearts?  

And if so, if suffering is my focus, then I must re-order my life to prepare for it. Because it’s probably not what will physically happen to me in suffering that will be the end of me, but instead whether or not my soul is conditioned for the elements.

“Most Sacred Heart of Jesus I trust in You”. I wrote those words on the chalkboard 5 months ago. A few weeks ago I decided it was time to erase them to put up a new phrase. I washed the board with a wet cloth and left the room while I waited for it to dry. When I returned, the words were still there. They had been up there so long they had penetrated the board and couldn’t be easily erased.

 

We must learn, and grow and develop our faith, as desperately as those storing food for winter. We must etch into our souls our trust and love and faith in Jesus so when life gets difficult our hearts are ready, and we can not only survive but really LIVE in the mess, where nothing can erase our trust in God.

 

The Worst Thing to Do...Nothing

I recently heard a recording of Dr. Edward Sri speaking about the role of Pilate in the gospel. He highlighted that the gospels are very specific in noting that Pilate did not believe that Jesus was guilty and he did not want to crucify him, but because of his fear of the crowds, he allowed it. He had it completely within his power to save Jesus, but he did nothing. He looked out for his own interests at the expense of another.
I admit, there have been times I have heard the gospel story and even felt sorry for Pilate, the poor guy just trying to do his job and not cause trouble, and now for eternity his name is being drug through the mud as the man who crucified Jesus, even though he wanted nothing to do with it. It was the Jewish people who wanted Jesus dead, and yet, not one of their names is mentioned in the bible. But Pilates name is mentioned many, many times. Actually, we remember his sin every Sunday when we recite the creed at Mass..."[Jesus was] crucified by Pontius Pilate, suffered, died and was buried." Why is there so much focus on this man who never lifted a finger to hurt Jesus?


Because he did nothing.


We can see from the way his sin is highlighted in the gospels and in the church that this is one of the worst things we can ever do.


But this is all of our struggle. We see injustice every day, and we do nothing. We see friends and family living outside of the faith and struggling and we are silent. We see neighbors children neglected and we close the curtains. We see news stories that tear at our hearts, and our solution is to turn off the TV.


The story of Pilate was meant to be a message to us: if you have the power to do something, you must!


He is held responsible for the blood of Jesus, even though he "washed his hands of it". He is blamed for crucifying Jesus even though he never swung the hammer. He did nothing.


This message hits us hard doesn't it? Because we know it's true, and we know we are guilty.


There's a place in this where I told my friends last night that my heart gets tangled up: When to pray and give something over into God's hands and when to act. I thought todays first reading was a good answer, basically to pray AND speak if the spirit moves.


"With all prayer and supplication,
pray at every opportunity in the Spirit.
To that end, be watchful with all perseverance and supplication
for all the holy ones and also for me,
that speech may be given me to open my mouth,
to make known with boldness the mystery of the Gospel
for which I am an ambassador in chains,
so that I may have the courage to speak as I must." Eph 6:18-20


I think often we can easily "do nothing" by saying we will pray about something. It's such an easy answer and makes us feel like we are doing something. A good friend reminded me early on in ministry, "if you are going to tell someone you are praying for them, then you better make sure you are following through!" How often do we tell people we will pray and then actually pray? And how often is our prayer "Holy Spirit please guide me to know how you would like to use me to help in this situation."
Don't misunderstand, prayer is powerful and important, we must invite the Holy Spirit to move. But if we are using it as an excuse to do nothing, we are missing the purpose. Instead prayer is where we start, and find our strength, and maybe the spirit will direct us that prayer is all He is wanting from us. Maybe though, there is something that we are being called to do as the spirit leads us and gives us courage and strength. You'll notice the early church writings are full of a lot of prayer but also a lot of action as the Spirit used people to spread the gospel, heal and drive out evil. They didn't gloss over real problems by simply saying "I'll pray about it" and then going on about their lives.


I believe there is a delicate balance in the place where we offer things out of our control to God and where we act on things we can control where we feel called, rooted deeply in prayer. I feel I am still in the process of learning this balance and gaining the peace that comes in finding it.


This week it seems the sky is falling, there has been a lot of heartbreak in the world of a lot of people close to me. The presidential election and future of our country looks bleak and no one knows what to do with their vote. Genocide is happening again in another country. Here in America we are killing our own children. And we are too busy to stop to think about any of it much less do something about it. I suspect Pilate was quite busy too.
This week and this election are red flags that we need to stop "doing nothing" because the devil is doing something. I'll leave you with the first part of the Eph. reading from today, I pray that it encourages you on your journey, no matter what you are doing:


Brothers and sisters:
Draw your strength from the Lord and from his mighty power.
Put on the armor of God so that you may be able to stand firm
against the tactics of the Devil.
For our struggle is not with flesh and blood
but with the principalities, with the powers,
with the world rulers of this present darkness,
with the evil spirits in the heavens.
Therefore, put on the armor of God,
that you may be able to resist on the evil day
and, having done everything, to hold your ground.
So stand fast with your loins girded in truth,
clothed with righteousness as a breastplate,
and your feet shod in readiness for the Gospel of peace.
In all circumstances, hold faith as a shield,
to quench all the flaming arrows of the Evil One.
And take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit,
which is the word of God. Eph 6:10-17

I Must be Doing This Wrong

"I must be doing it wrong, because other people seem to do this so much better, so much more gracefully, and with so much more joy." That's a summary of what I told a friend recently as we discussed the struggles of parenting as she nodded in agreement. It was reassuring to know I wasn't the only one that felt this way, but I think we both were hoping the other might have the secret that those other mom's who seem to have it all together must know. You know, the ones whose kids actually LOOK and smile when they're taking their photo...
Don't get me wrong, I LOVE my kids. I appreciate and understand the GIFT that they are. I know that through the love of my husband and I, the addition of them into our family is a mirror image of the Trinity, where the love between God and Jesus creates the Holy Spirit. I know that just like the lines of a song they are "my heaven" here on earth, my family is a glimpse (imperfect of course) of the unconditional love and joy I'll experience someday in union with Jesus and the whole church.
But lets be honest, a lot of days come up quite a bit short of looking like heaven in this house. A lot of days the toddlers have short naps and cry more than smile. On those days, I'm not the mom I always thought I would be. I'm the cranky mom who speaks too harshly to her precious "gifts" (read between the lines...I yell; pre-kid me would be horrified...5 years experienced me still is). I'm the annoyed mom who has prioritized some other task over playing and lets it ruin the day when it doesn't get done. Some days, I'm just the mom stuck in the rut of every day being the same and not sure how to break out of it. Sure there are a lot of great moments and lots of great days that I do sit back and marvel at this gift of "heaven on earth" that I am allowed to live. But its those bad days that don't sit well with me. They fall so far short of the person I know I am called to be.
I look into the eyes of my tiny people, and I know they deserve better. But there is this grand-canyon-size gap between the mom and wife I want to be and the one I am on my worst day, or even my best. And it seems no matter how hard I try I can't make the leap to the other side. My patience, forgiveness, gentleness, and unconditional love all seem to run out. Sins that I thought I had long put behind me pull me down once more, and sins I never knew I had come to the surface magnified times ten. Parenting isn't the only thing that brings this out in us. Stress at work, disagreements in families, feeling judged or unloved seems to push us to the worst version of ourselves. We often feel like we must be doing something wrong in life when we hit those moments.
My conversation with my friend left me pondering that day just what exactly it could be that we were "doing wrong". As I prepared for an upcoming confirmation retreat I was leading, the answer hit me right in the face.
"Beloved: I remind you, to stir into flame
the gift of God that you have through the imposition of my hands.
For God did not give us a spirit of cowardice
but rather of power and love and self-control.
So do not be ashamed of your testimony to our Lord,
nor of me, a prisoner for his sake;
but bear your share of hardship for the gospel
with the strength that comes from God." 2 Tim 1:6-8


I don't know why I need so many reminders. I seem to figure this out every few months and then forget again. The Holy Spirit. That is the secret that's not really a secret. The bible shouts it to us over and over again, "our advocate", "our helper", "our reminder of the truth".
When I worked as a youth minister and encountered students every day who needed to experience, in me, the love of Christ, I prayed desperately for the spirit to guide my words and actions. I prayed desperately that they would see Christ and not me.
Now, when I prepare to speak at events or lead a retreat I spend hours in prayer, completely relying on the Holy Spirit to work through me. Because truthfully, I'm terrible on my own. Its incredible to see the difference between when I practice a speech to when I give it with the grace of the Holy Spirit. On my own, I fall short. The ingredients are there, but it just doesn't come together right. I have always known that I am nothing but an unqualified mess of a person who desperately needs the Holy Spirit to share the gospel with others.
The problem, is that for some reason I think I can do parenting on my own. I must have thought I had the right gifts or talents? Or figured that's the way everyone else does it so it should work for me? Or maybe it's because it's every day and every waking minute instead of a work day or a one hour speech?
But I realized as I prayed desperately for the Holy Spirit to help me with the retreat, that this is what I have been doing wrong. I have not been praying for the Holy Spirit to help me share the love of Christ with these tiny people. I think we assume it should come naturally to love our children. It comes naturally to have affection for them, but the love that they require, a selfless, lifegiving, completely sacrificial, unconditional love that imitates the love of Jesus is just not possible for the average sinful person without the working of the Holy Spirit. It's ridiculous really that I have neglected to ask for the help of the Holy Spirit for the most important job I have ever had. It's ridiculous that I have spent 5 hours in prayer to the Holy Spirit to give a one hour speech and don't spend even a few minutes for a full 24 hours that I spend each day wanting to share Jesus with the hearts that are the most dear to me.
I love all of the hearts I encounter and I want each one to know the truth, to know the incredible way God loves them. But these hearts that live in my home have been especially entrusted to me. It's my job to make sure they know the love of Jesus, and the only way I can possibly do that is to get out of the way and allow the Holy Spirit to love them through me in a way I never will be able to myself. And in order to do this, I have to pray desperately. Because the Spirit won't take over my free will, He has to be invited to move.


Its a beautiful gift He gave us.
"And I will ask the Father and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. This is the spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive because it neither sees him or knows him. You know him, because he abides in you and he will be in you. I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you." Jn 14:16-18


I will not leave you orphaned.


Come Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful and enkindle in them the fire of your love.
Send forth your Spirit, and they shall be created, and you shall renew the face of the earth.
Oh God, who instructs the hearts of the faithful, grant that by the same Spirit, we may become truly wise and ever rejoice in his consolations, through the same Christ our Lord. Amen.


I'm praying this prayer often. I'm breathing in "Come Holy Spirit" as I take sips of coffee. I'm relying on Him for every toddler tantrum, every time the baby empties a basket of folded laundry, and every time the five year old is stubborn. I'm remembering often that I really can't do this on my own and remembering always that the Holy Spirit does it so incredibly better, and with peace and joy.


Come Holy Spirit!

I'm Still Watching the Clock

Dear Nathaniel,
Today was your second day of Kindergarten. You didn't want to go. You had fun yesterday, but "it was too long" you said. "Tell me about it" I wanted to reply. You see, when we kissed you goodbye and you walked out the door your brother pointed and begged to go with you, and when I said you were going to school and he had to stay home, his eyes told his story of devastation and he cried his biggest, saddest sobs. I cried right along with him. Because we both knew it would be too long before you were back. He missed his hero and best buddy and I missed a piece of my own heart.
I watched the clock all day. I prayed through the time you were getting to the school and into your classroom. I prayed when playing blocks with your brother and sister because your absence was so noticeable. I prayed when I knew you would be going to lunch because I know new places with a lot of people are very scary for you.  I prayed a lot in the early afternoon hours because I knew the day would start getting long for you. I watched the clock often as the day was getting long for me without you too. I prayed unceasingly when the dismissal time came and I knew you were getting on the school bus for the very first time. I prayed your whole hour bus ride home. I watched the clock all day waiting for you to come back to me. And when you stepped off the bus with a smile I prayed a prayer of thanksgiving.
The truth is, I really don't want to send you to school. I really want you to stay home with me every day. So when you look at me and tell me you don't want to go, trust me, I don't want you to either. Your entire 5 years of life I've been battling to keep you with me, watching the clock whenever you were gone until you would come back home, when all would be right in my world again.


We were bringing you home from Pierre in an April icestorm navigating slushy roads when you were one month old. I road in the back with you because I was sure if I couldn't see you you would stop breathing. I watched the minutes tick by on the digital clock on the dash, praying you would stay sleeping another half hour before we could stop. I desperately wished time would go faster so we could be safely home. You were a great traveler (first and ONLY time) , you woke up to eat and be changed and went back to sleep as soon as we got on the road and slept all the way home. When we got home, Dan held you in his recliner and you slept a very long time. I kept watching the clock, telling him to let you wake up so you would sleep at night, but he just couldn't put you down.


It was 3 am. We hadn't really slept all night because you hated your crib and woke up every time we put you in it. We both looked desperately at the clock and then decided to let you sleep in the swing if that would do the trick. We finally all drifted off to sleep at 4.


5 pm never came soon enough so I could pick you up from daycare. When someone walked in at 4:55 with a problem I tried not to let my sadness show. A year ago I would have been thrilled to solve it and enjoyed the challenge. Now I just wanted to pick you up, the day had been too long to be apart.

It was 2 am, you were 5 months old, the date quickly approaching when you were supposed to leave us to go live with your birth-mom. I was so glad you woke up, so that I could hold you and spend more time with you. There were a lot of nights I wished for sleep, but lately I treasured this sacred nighttime hour with you, with a bottle and rocking chair. I soaked in every breath, every sound. I remembered how quiet the house, our life, used to be before you. I never hated sleeping all night more. I watched the minutes tick by knowing they were going too fast. Knowing the day was coming when you wouldn't wake me at 2 am anymore, when I wouldn't be there to answer your cries.


24 hours. That's the time we got to say goodbye to you. Six months you had lived with us, but you weren't just a roommate. You were a part of us. How do you say goodbye in 24 hours? We played all day. We left the room to cry. We tried to memorize every tiny touch, every hug, every movement. We watched the hours tick by, each one bringing us closer to our worst nightmare. The time came, we had to put you in the car. The car had always been a safe place and always brought you somewhere safe and then back home, but this time was different. It felt like a lie buckling you in. This time I couldn't promise you'd be safe. I couldn't promise you'd come back home.


5 days you were gone before you could come back and visit. I watched the clock all week, wondering what you were doing at that moment, wondering if you were ok, wondering if you were missing us. I prayed you wouldn't be sad and that you were being taken care of. I prayed I would figure out how to live without you, without the constant worry tearing me apart.


When the call came to come pick you up, time stood still. I left work and rushed down to get you, the hour drive an agony knowing once I get there I could hold you in my arms and bring you HOME.


We watched the clock as your months turn into years and we treasured every one individually as a gift of one more day, one more month, one more year with you. We had no promise of the next year.


This May, when you were five years old, we were at the courthouse with all of our family and friends, and I watched seconds pass as time slowed and we waited for our turn. Five years of anticipation builds up a lot of anxiety. But our turn came and then it went quickly and before I knew it, the judge was announcing your adoption official. Five years of worry slipped off my shoulders and fell to the floor like I tossed off a heavy winter coat.


Today, you went back to school for the second LONG day. I still watched the clock all day. I still counted the hours and then minutes that you would come back home. I still breathed easier knowing you were ok when you got off that yellow bus.


I know I'm the crazy mom who can't let go of her child and I know I worry too much. Maybe the difference is that I HAD to let go of you once, and it was horrible. Maybe the difference is that I treasure every moment because I had to find out what the moments were like without you. Maybe I don't trust that anyone else loves you the way that I do. And maybe most of all I know that even a court document can't guarantee me another day with you. So I want all of this day, not just the last few hours.


The good news, is that Jesus doesn't promise us tomorrow, but He does promise us eternity. Eternity with you sounds so incredible. This is why we have nothing to fear. Because being separated is really our ultimate fear. The thing that causes us the most pain. But because of Jesus we will never be separated forever. So until then, I'll keep watching the clock while you're away from me. And I'll keep watching the clock while we both wait for heaven, anxiously awaiting the day when I'm not watching the clock anymore.
And I'm sorry buddy, Daddy says you have to go to school tomorrow.

Sorry I Didn't See You

I was honored to speak with some wonderful ladies yesterday at the diocesan Council of Catholic Women about Modesty and Theology of the Body. It's hard to summarize a teaching in just an hour that Pope John Paul II devoted much of his life to sharing with us, but the main message I shared is that the secret to understanding modesty is to realize the value and dignity of ourselves and EACH and EVERY other person in the world. When we can see ourselves and in turn others as the gifts they are, we easily value and appreciate our bodies. I know I still struggle as I let sin get in the way of seeing each person as God intended. But I'm expanding today on the reality that sometimes it's not the sin of judgment or envy or comparison but busyness that I struggle with.
It's our culture's favorite word to use lately: How's your summer going? ....Busy! How's work? ....Busy!  How's life at home? ...Busy!
We seem to feel being "busy" is what we should be else we be considered "lazy". When we had three one-year-olds all we ever heard was "you must be busy!" We still hear it often with our family of 5. And I know people are affirming our sacrifice, which is a really beautiful thing. Sometimes "busyness" is inevitable, especially when it comes to the demands of a family. But sometimes we create "busyness" because we feel a need to. We run everywhere and sign up for everything and everywhere we go we tell people we are "busy" when they ask.
The problem with "busy" is that when I'm too busy I don't "see" you. I don't encounter people the way I'm intended to. When I'm taking 3 or 4 children out in public, I don't see anyone except them, because I'm completely focused on keeping them safe, getting our tasks done with the fewest amount of meltdowns and making it home with the same amount of children I left with. I often go in and out of a store without making eye contact with a single person. I MIGHT have noticed you were there, but I didn't really SEE you.
When we run from activity to activity on such tight time lines, thinking about work or a million other things on our to-do lists, we visually see a lot of people but we rarely ACTUALLY see them. To see the dignity of a person is to look in their eyes and encounter their story.
Yesterday I spent an hour telling a group of women the beautiful gift they are, and even though I wasn't accompanied by my usual baby gang, I failed to truly "see" them and learn their stories. I've become so used to "busy" that I couldn't snap out of it. And that is NOT ok with me.
A few years ago when I was interviewing someone she told me when asked about a struggle in a previous job where she cared for people: "this is going to sound bad, but when you care for people every day, you can sometimes forget that they are human." She had an incredible heart for the work that she did, and it was refreshing to hear her honesty in seeing the challenge and committing to make sure that she DID see the person she was caring for.
But the conversation came to mind as I was reflecting on dignity and the way we must be sure our children know their own value. I wonder how many times this week did I really SEE my children? How often do I answer their questions while I'm doing dishes or folding laundry without ever looking up? How often do I sit right on the floor playing with them while I'm thinking of work? How many times do I not notice the boys' missing their sister while I am busy missing her? How many times did I look in their eyes today? It should have been hundreds, it was probably only a few. And that is NOT ok with me.
I have been given this incredible gift of these beautiful eyes that show me an unconditional love like I can't even fathom. They have see my ugliest moments and they still gaze upon me like I'm holy. I feel like the most loved person on the planet when I can see their sparkle and fun and intense love all wrapped into a look. They see only the good, only the most beautiful parts of me, the way I want but don't deserve to be seen. Isn't it funny, that I wanted to look into their eyes so that they would know their value and dignity, but it is in their eyes that I have found mine? Not funny I suppose but exactly the way God intended: for it is in giving that we receive. I know that same gift is waiting for me as I slow down and encounter others that God is placing on my journey.
Praying I SEE you soon!

It's Going to be OK

Two months ago, I was driving to my son's preschool conferences towards the end of his school year when something caught my eye. There on the side of the road was a picture of Jesus, put out on the curb for the city-wide clean up, or "junk days" as we call it. City residents can "spring clean" and set large amounts of garbage on the curb for the city to haul away. You can imagine this didn't sit well with me that someone had put a picture of Jesus to be thrown away. I made a mental note of it's location and planned to "rescue" it on the way home from the conference. I wasn't in need of another picture of Jesus, but I couldn't allow it to be treated disrespectfully.


After the conference, Nathaniel and I got in the van and I told him we'd be pulling over to pick up a picture because "Jesus isn't junk". I was in a hurry, needing to get home in time for my babysitter to leave on time. I grabbed the photo not thinking anything of it, but the second my hand touched the   photo I was overwhelmed by the smell of lilacs, stronger than I had ever smelled them. I looked around and there were no lilac bushes close by, the smell seemed to be coming from the photo, and I knew in that instant that St. Therese had sent the heavenly smell. I carried the photo to the car and set it next to me and I knew God was saying "everything is going to be ok."


You see, we had gotten news recently that our girls were going to be transitioning to live with their bio-parents. I was worried about them. I was worried about the effect on our family of losing them. I was wondering what God's plan was and if He really was in control or if the evil in the world was winning this round. And I had been reading the story of St. Therese the Little Flower and knew of her habit of sending flowers or the smell of flowers to people in answer to their prayers. Except I never expected to be one of those recipients. I never imagined that a small insignificant person like me could matter in heaven. I know it sounds silly to say that but even though I believe it about others, its hard to feel that important myself.


So here's the thing, I totally understand if I've lost you because you rarely believe in "stuff like this" because honestly, I'm one of those people. I'm not quick to believe the stories of others "feelings" or miracles they believe happened. I tend to need to experience things for myself and rarely rely on the experiences of others. Except that, while we are usually skeptical of those types of stories, deep down we really WANT to believe them. We want to believe that the Holy Spirit is still alive and working in the world. We want to believe that each of us tiny ants and what's happening in our lives really do matter to God.  But if we believe that some people have had these encounters, miracles, etc, then it also puts our faith to the test as we immediately question "why has God reached out to this person and not to me?"


I have been in that position a hundred times, wondering why God saved someone's baby, but not mine. Wondering why he spoke so clearly to someone else, but left my question unanswered for years. Wondering why some are blessed so greatly and others suffer so much.


As I've become a parent I have learned the answer to these questions.  God is the greatest parent of all, and he knows what all parents come to know: we stop trying to be "fair" to our children by giving to them all equally, and instead we give them what they need. I heard a parent say this long before I had children and I disagreed. We have this desire in us for everything to be fair. Except our parents, and our amazing God know that what is good for one child will not help another. This is hard to understand for our children and for us "big kids" who are still keeping score of who got what. But when we remember how much our God loves us, how can we doubt that he knows what is best for us? And when we remember that we were made for eternity and not this earth, we can appreciate the work He is doing here to mold us and change our hearts, especially when it comes in the form of sacrifice.


I was reading "The Story of a Soul" by St. Therese shortly after we had gotten the news of our girls leaving, wondering where God was in all of it. And I came across " Do you believe that though your prayers are really not heard on earth, though Jesus separates the child from its mother for a few days, that these prayers will be answered in heaven?"


When we lose sight of heaven, something as terrible as losing a child seems unbearable. But when we have faith like St. Therese to know that truly it is only a "few days" in the realm of eternity that we will be separated then we can do it for Him if He asks it of us. We can have hope in the confidence of knowing that someday we will all be together in heaven and nothing will ever separate us.
St. Therese goes on to say in writing to her mother superior "your desire, I know is that I carry out at your side a very sweet and easy mission; but shall I not be able to finish it from the heights of heaven?" If you are interested, go read more about St. Therese and the many miracles accredited to her as she continues to bring souls to Jesus, a work she began at the young age of 15 and continues to carry out long after her time on this earth was done.

So, to finish the story: I got home with the picture and brought it inside. On closer look, the painting is a depiction of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. I've heard of it, but wasn't very familiar with the history of the devotion. I started to read a little about it and then got pulled away from the article. I needed to schedule an appointment for B, the last one she would have with me and her bio-parents before leaving me. As was on the phone rescheduling, the only date they were able to get us in was the girl's very last day with us. So I began writing the appointment on the calendar right underneath where I had written "girls return home". But then I saw it, right below where I was writing the appointment there was bold lettering on my Catholic Calendar that said that day of June 3rd was the Feast of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. I knew in that moment He was reminding me that He sees me, that He is in control. I know He knows exactly what He is doing and that "it's all going to be ok."


I started praying the Novena to the Sacred Heart leading up to the feast day, praying for God's will for the girls and our family. A week later, we got news that B won't be returning home and that we may get to adopt her. This is difficult news to process and share because it's incredibly joyful, and the news that her sister is still leaving us is incredibly hard. Yesterday it rained off and on quite a bit of the day and at one point it was sprinkling while the sun was shining. Nathaniel said "it can't be raining while the sun is out!" And I quickly corrected him and said "It can! Then we can see rainbows!" And I knew I was being reminded as I struggle with this odd place of sadness and happiness that its possible to be both at the same time.


We visited M with her birth parents at a park last weekend, and my heart wrestled with the joy of being with her and the hurt of not being able to take her home and seeing her with another mom. But as I wrestled with this place, I knew heaven was just a few days away, where we will all be together, we can all love M and each other and not from separate homes.  Until then I can learn to love more like the Sacred Heart of Jesus, who experiences great joys and great sorrows, always at the same time.

It's not exactly how I would have envisioned my prayers being answered. But He didn't say "I'll give you everything you want" but that "everything would be ok." And that's all I really NEED.


Thank you God that you love me enough to give me what I need. Help me trust you, especially on days when I let worry creep in and steal my joy. It's all going to be ok, it's just a few days anyway.