Everyday Reminders of What Matters Most

"But do you love God most?" my priest asked me.

"Yes," I replied quickly and the conversation moved on. 

Yet, the question rattled around in my mind. The answer felt too automatic - just giving what I knew was the right answer. The conversation was related to family and God, specifically Abraham's test (Genesis 22:1-13) that had always left me feeling unsettled. Feeling so full of love for my girls, it was hard to fathom how Abraham would be able to kill his own son. Although that day my priest helped me to see that Biblical narrative from a new lens finally bringing a sense of peace with it, his question and my response stuck with me.  

It was at that time that I realized as a 34 year old, I had not given proper focus to one of the most fundamental aspects of life. I started to reflect what does it look like to love God most? Coincidentally, from the start of the year with core as my one little word, I had been focusing on a desire to intentionally align my life to God's will after feeling like my career was consuming too much of my time and energy, leaving me feeling like I was drowning. This layered in perfectly, as the more I learned about God's will, the more I was learning about loving God most. 

This summer, I sat in Confession hearing the advice "if you love God most..." The concept had cycled back through at a different point in my life with a different overall context prompting me to once again draw my attention to the thought, what does it look like to love God most? Separated by a year, with many other moments and pieces of advice in between, I am grateful for my priest continually helping me to process implications for my life as I try to navigate the journey to putting God in the rightful place in my life, the core.

Though initially it felt like shifting my priorities to focus on my Catholic faith was making everything else that I had struggled with for so long related to career-family balance fall into place, it eventually started to feel messy. I had not been expecting conflicts in trying to decide whether I was on track or not with certain areas. I thought I would just know whether or not certain aspects were God's will for me, rather than needing to patiently wait for different aspects to unfold. However, with time I have seen that bit by bit, pieces seem to be untangled as the concept of loving God most helps me to do the next thing.  

Sometimes it is nice to have external reminders that catch our attention during our day to day lives to remind us of what matters most, of who we want to be. Aside from my family photo timeline, I appreciate the underlying meaning behind my rings. I've never been one to be too attached to jewelry or to own many pieces of jewelry. As a matter of fact, I have probably gone more of my married life without wearing my engagement or wedding rings than I have worn them. However, throughout time there have been some rings and necklaces that have special significance that I wear every day, rarely taking them off. 

Last year my priest's rosary ring caught my attention. It resonated with me in relation to my one little word core and knowing that loving God most was vital. Originally, I thought it was only something that priests and religious would wear, but when I mentioned it one time, he let me know that many lay people wear them in India. That sparked my idea to get one and I decided on wearing it with my wedding band. Both are on my ring finger, the place of commitment, but the rosary ring is strategically closer to my heart. Yet, it is right next to my wedding band reminding me to keep God at the core and that as a married woman, living my vocation as a wife and mother well should be at the center of my life.

Because it impacted my ring finger, I talked to my husband about it, seeing how he felt about it. After some months of wearing it, he asked again about the significance. As I told him, I mentioned the intent, along with the reality that just because it is there and something I visibly see multiple times a day, doesn't mean I will be perfect at it. Rather, it prompts me to reflect again and again about those celebrations and areas for growth.

Dear Lord Jesus, Thank you for the visible reminders in my life to draw me back to You, as well as the people who have nurtured my faith development. Please help me to have the strength to navigate the uncertainties in my journey to aligning my life to Your will and to living out my role as wife and mom to help my family with the overall purpose of eternal life. 

Catholic Mom Daily Gospel Reflection Team

For 2016 I wrote one daily Gospel reflection for Catholic Mom. 

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Today’s Gospel: Luke 6, 39-42

Recently I found myself judging a situation that did not directly involve me. I reacted as a mom, saying that I could not believe how another mother would agree to something. Only later, I heard more details that prompted me to re-evaluate, and her actions made sense. Instead, I was baffled by the other person involved.

As the details continued to unravel, I found myself going back and forth, revising my judgments. At the end, I realized I would never know the full story, all the different events and feelings that culminated in the current scenario. Judging should not be my initial response. Nonetheless, because there is an inclination to consider human experiences and place value judgments, it is an on-going challenge to catch myself from judging others and to instead re-direct my thoughts.

Sometimes my judgments come in the form of trying to give advice or helping people process scenarios. The last line provides guidance to think about how I can better support others when that is the case. The more I can refrain from judging as an initial response and instead focus on my own weaknesses in the midst of my efforts to live a holy life, the more I can understand and sympathize.

When I stop and take a step back, it helps me to be able to compassionately help remove the splinter, with the purpose of bringing peace. In this Jubilee Year of Mercy, it is a perfect time to reflect and consider how we respond to our own actions and those of others.

Ponder:

Consider a time when your initial response was to judge. How could you have responded in a way that would demonstrate Jesus’ love, compassion, and mercy? How might you proactively use this information to respond differently to similar scenarios in the future?

Pray:

Lord Jesus, help me to demonstrate your mercy towards those I encounter in my day to day life, recognizing my own faults, rather than unfairly focusing on those of others. Help me to respond with love and compassion, rather than judgment.

Bind Us Together Lord

Bind us together, Lord

Bind us together, Lord

Bind us together with cords that cannot be broken

Bind us together, Lord

Bind us together, Lord

Bind us together with love

During the last academic year, my priest taught this song at one of our youth ministry nights. Among other relationships, the song speaks to me when thinking about marriage, family, and memories. Last summer, inspired by an idea in Ali Edwards' Hello Story scrapbooking class, I created a visual timeline on a wall of our hallway. There is an 8x8 framed picture for each family member for each year (with oldest at the top moving down by age for each column). Starting with two pictures in 2002 - one of my husband and one of me on our wedding day, the timeline then expands to add our oldest in the next year, our second three years later, an ultrasound of our third six years later, and as soon as I update it, our fourth will be present just in time for it to be necessary to bend the timeline down the hallway. 

Though it was not part of my original motivation behind making it, I have come to realize that it is beneficial to have a glimpse through our lives visible. When the house is calm and quiet, I sometimes like to sit on the couch and glance at our timeline. For those on the outside, some milestones and events are easily recognizable, such as our wedding day and my three college graduations. Others might be less understood without some explanation, such as knowing that the picture of my husband holding a small US flag and a piece of paper is the day he became a US citizen (the paper is a voter registration application). Everyday photos are mixed in as well.

Then there's all those hidden layers behind the outward appearances. Aside from what can be seen on the surface, some pictures evoke memories of the specific day and time the pictures were taken, as well as the overall context of our lives at the time. Based on the pictures, I think about where we lived, where we were in school or working, exciting events coming up. I think about interactions between different family members and the rhythms and routines of our life during specific years. I think about the layers of support for me to be able to pursue my educational dreams.

Almost all of the pictures depict smiling faces, even in those spans of time that represent the biggest challenges in our lives. As such, the photos represent celebrations, struggles, and everyday life all mixed together. As a teacher, getting things straight on my bulletin boards and walls was never a strength, so as expected, trying to get rows of frames in perfect alignment simply did not happen; however, so much about relationships is recognizing the beauty despite the imperfections. 

Memories and experiences bind us together. The more we can allow the lessons of the Gospel to guide our lives and interactions, the stronger the bonds become. The more we allow guidance from people with a strong Catholic lens and prayer to help us navigate decisions and confusions, the stronger the bonds become. If we strive to be humble enough to recognize our own imperfections, be merciful enough to accept each other as we are, sacrifice enough to show our love, we can reflect on how our Lord is working to bind us together.

In the last little over a year and a half since I have been focusing more on intentionally aligning my life to the will of God, there have been some confusions as to which path I should take in some areas; however, other aspects are clear. One area of clarity is knowing that living out my vocation as wife and mother means nurturing our faith and our relationships and trying to keep Christ at the center of our lives. 

Today my husband and I celebrate our 14th wedding anniversary, as well as the baptisms of our oldest 13 years ago and of our third daughter 3 years ago. We will celebrate by having our priest bless our house this evening.

We are grateful for Your unwavering presence Lord, through different phases of our lives. Please continue to bind us together and to remember those common memories through all the bends in life. 

Remaining Calm

Yesterday I talked about how a sense of letting go and trusting more often in my life helps to counteract rising stress and worry. Doing so is vital in being able to serve in different capacities and roles in life, including: wife, mother, parishioner, colleague, Director of Religious Education/Youth Minister, and teacher educator. At the start of last year, as part of my one little word - core journey, I wrote, "Begin to live with this mission in mind: Strive to live life according to God's will by nourishing spiritual life and nurturing connections. Conscientiously focus on showing family is important, value self care, and work with joy." Shortly after, I took the Upstream Field Guide course which prompted me to think about my purpose beyond my current context. It pushed me to see beyond this phase of motherhood and my career.

Lately, I have been feeling certainty that a couple of cross-cutting aspects I want to embody and continue to nurture are contributing to a positive culture and joyful interactions. Feeling a sense of calm and peace helps me to better live these two out in my life. I think that is why when I saw this image from Ascension Press on Facebook it spoke to me enough to print it out and put it on my bulletin board at church.

This week I returned to work as a teacher educator after maternity leave and summer vacation. This song keeps coming to mind as I know it is essential so that I don't get too wrapped up in different aspects of life. One of my favorite lines is "Lay down what's good and find what's best." You can hear about the background of the song from the singer's perspective here.

What aspects prompt you to feel stress and worry? What are some things that help you or inspire you to not let different worries or concerns in life turn into bigger issues than they need to be? 

Do the Next Thing

Lately, I have been thinking a lot about the concept of "Do the next thing" as part of my growth on the worry-trust continuum. When something seems to be too overwhelming or I am too bogged down with wanting to know how something is going to turn out, I am trying to shift my thinking to what the next thing is and then taking action.

I am a planner and want to think things through, to be intentional. I like the concept of beginning with the end in mind; and yet, I am finding that there are many scenarios lately that I need to let go of my timelines and desire to know and instead trust that God will reveal to me what I need to know when I need to know. Rather than spending so much time and energy on trying to solve the bigger questions in my mind or to feel like I have a strong, solid grasp on the big picture before moving forward, I just need to take a small step forward. Then the next one and the next one. Leaning into uncertainty, I take those steps of faith over time.

By letting go of wanting to have so much control over the outcome, instead, I can pray "Thy will be done" and "Jesus, I trust in You" and prepare to be amazed at how things turn out, the twists and turns in my journey. Having confidence that God is working all things for my good (Romans 8:28) helps to surrender that control and wait for his plans to emerge over time.

Keeping these thoughts in mind, I can see how it makes all the difference with aspects that seem big or small. Anytime I feel stress, anxiety, or uncertainty bubbling up, I can feel strength building to counteract those thoughts - the peace and calm seeping in. I can see how so many different scenarios in my life have led me to this point.

It is of course taking practice, prayer, loving advice, and reminders over time nudging me toward this growth. It feels like it is all in preparation to move toward the big picture of God's plan for me, the work He would like me to do. I take pleasure in seeing different aspects come into focus when looking back, leading me toward a greater sense of trust in the process through understanding aspects in the past that I couldn't have known yet because it was not time.

Where are you at in your journey? What can you do to train yourself toward letting go and doing the next thing, rather than wasting time wanting to know all the answers up front? Where are you at on the worry-trust and control-surrender continuums? How can you grow? How can you support others in their growth based on what you have already learned over time? 

Leaning into Suffering: Part 4 Reflecting Back

This post is the last in a series about suffering. See the other posts here (one, two, three).

As I laid in the hospital bed, my warm baby in my arms, the different labors seemed to piece together, and I felt an overwhelming sense of how God was with me providing me with exactly what I needed for each unique context, rather than just each time getting easier and faster. Instead, a relatively fast and not too painful labor - my first. My fastest labor - when my husband wasn't there. A the doctor must not have checked very well when he said it wasn't time labor - the time I called out to God. A longer (but still short) labor - when I was comparatively stronger and had a sense of a greater purpose for suffering.

My first two labors helped to provide a context for confidence. In my third labor, I was calmer than ever but then called out as soon as it was not as smooth as I imagined it was. At the time I was arrogant, thinking the doctor didn't know what I knew - it. was. time. Now, it reminds me of Peter walking on water. The doctor wasn't just too tired or wasn't off with his estimation of my progress. It really wasn't time yet, but when I called out, God rescued me immediately (Matthew 14:22-33). He turned it's not time into it's time.

In my fourth, I was stronger and wanting to offer it up and trusting in Jesus that I would be able to handle however it unfolded. I drew comfort from the agony in the garden and the human feelings of Jesus. Yet, I was still looking forward to the relief. I was able to say, "For you Jesus," inspired by Blessed Chiara Badano, but I was definitely not able to say, "Give me more" like Saint Alphonsa. I recognized that I was willingly accepting the pain of something that had to happen - my baby couldn't just stay inside forever. I also knew that the suffering was working toward the joyful outcome of a new life.

I cannot say whether I would be strong enough to go through the pain if it was something that I could just say, "What was I thinking? This is too hard. I don't want to do this anymore." My thinking was more along the lines of wanting to unite the suffering that had to happen with Christ's while simultaneously being very grateful for the relief that would eventually come. Based on hearing the labor stories of others, I also know that I have been very blessed and fortunate with relatively quick and easy labors, so I am unsure of how well I would be able to tolerate a harder labor without medication to dull the pain.

Nonetheless, although there are many reasons to think the suffering was much less than that of others' and that I still have a lot more room to grow with willingly accepting suffering, I know that I have grown through the process of the delivery of my four girls. It has taught me a lot about how to get stronger with time. If I eventually go through another labor, part of my mental preparation process will be to hold back the sense of wanting to push as soon as it gets hard and requesting to do so. I want to be able to better accept the "not yet," knowing there is purpose behind the process.

My labors have provided a lens to reflect on how I want to accept and embrace the suffering that enters my life over time beyond the context of labors. It is especially vital for me to keep in mind with the unexpected, knowing it is easier for me to keep a positive mindset when it is something I am planning and preparing for with some idea of what to expect and time to reflect on how I want to respond before the onset of suffering. All of this closely links to what I envision as a worry-trust continuum. The more I can trust, rather than worry, the better able I am to offer up suffering and to willingly lean into suffering, rather than trying to run away.

As I recognize that I could sense the presence of God in a special way in my labors and as a sense of purpose emerges behind why each labor was perfect for my context at different points in my 20s and 30s, I feel overwhelmed with gratitude and awe.

I don't know whether I will ever be as strong as Blessed Chiara Badano offering up longer term suffering or as Saint Alphonsa asking for more suffering, but I trust that God has a plan for me and for my growth over time to live, love, and serve according to His will, and that He will strengthen me in order to say yes to that plan. I am grateful for the Blesseds and Saints of the Church providing such rich diversity in experiences and inspiration for how we can improve over time in our lives.

What are the experiences in your life when you saw events through a new lens or were able to recognize a strong presence of God? What have you learned because of those experiences? How do the experiences shape goals for future growth?

Leaning Into Suffering - Part 3 Labor 4

This post is part of a series about suffering. If you did not see the initial posts, you can find them here and here.

April 2016
I thought ahead for months. With three labors past, I was more confident in what labor would be like. I remembered my mom saying how I (her fourth) was her easiest labor. I also let my doctor know my labors were typically fast and how I lost my calm when the doctor in my third labor said it was not time but then my baby was born immediately once the nurse told me to push. My doctor let me know to go in sooner rather than later and to make sure the nurses called her. One of my friends let me know there was a note on my chart telling them to call her as soon as they saw me.

My personal journey had led me to almost a full year of regularly attending daily Mass for the first time ever in my life, I had been investing in my personal faith formation, and had been going to a weekly Adoration for some months (something I had not done since my oldest was 1). As part of those experiences, I had heard about Blessed Chiara Badano from Chris Stefanick and Saint Alphonsa from my priest, which in combination with other readings and faith formation resources, helped me to consider the concept of uniting suffering to Christ's for the Salvation of Souls or the concept of offering it up. I recognized that was a vital piece that I wanted to keep in mind during labor. During Holy Week, I thought about Jesus' Agony in the Garden and the deeper understanding I had about that strengthened me.

I knew labor was approaching. I thought I was in labor on a Friday night but then the contractions went away and I waited and waited. I knew it was getting closer and made a prediction that it would happen by a certain time. Then it didn't. That point in time came and went without any regular contractions. But there was peace. I was able to have a patient mindset and inner dialogue with God that I trusted it would happen when and as it should, even if it was much different than my other labors for which I had a great sense of gratitude.

Sunday night, I woke with the familiar feeling. As soon as I had barely enough contractions to feel like they were regular, my husband and I once again headed to the hospital in the middle of the night. I let him know I just needed to focus and didn't want to be carrying on a conversation, so he stretched out on the bed for dads and rested. I set into my prayers within intermittent interruptions from the nurse. I rotated the Rosary ring on my finger as I went through the decades. When the IV was inserted making that painful, I counted on my fingers. I prayed and prayed. I wondered if I would make it through the Rosary before labor but ended up praying all four sets of Mysteries.

Jesus, I trust in You, I thought as the pain increased rather than yelling out as I had the previous labor. "For You, Jesus," I thought inspired by Blessed Chiara Badano's words. When it got harder, I imagined Jesus as the Good Shepherd, as it was not too long after Good Shepherd Sunday and my priest had talked about an image he has of Jesus carrying the lamb over His shoulders. I was calm and collected, yet ready to have my baby in my arms and the relief of knowing labor was over. I was impatient. "Remember, my babies are small," I said to my doctor when I heard those familiar words, "Not yet" a couple of times.

When I did have the go ahead to push, there was another surprise in store for me - it was not immediate and effortless. I actually had to get coaching from the nurses and my doctor on how to focus my energy while pushing. What? I thought. I needed to lean into the pain more, rather than on shifting too deeply into prayer. "Keep your eyes open. Stay with us," they said.

After my longest labor pushing (unless my first labor is too blurry with time), she was there and I was in awe. It wasn't what I had expected. I wasn't expecting it to be more effort than before. My four labors came into focus; I saw them from a new angle.