Pietra Fitness: A Catholic Response to Yoga

I recently hit the halfway mark in my studies to become a Certified Pietra Fitness instructor and have cause to celebrate. I rejoice in both the good decision to undertake the adventure in the first place and the gift that the experience, program, and community have become.

A friend recently asked me about my involvement: “Pietra… isn’t that some kind of Catholic yoga?” No. Six months into my training I can say emphatically that it is not. But I do understand the concern. “Christian yoga,” “Jesuit yoga,” “Catholic yoga”… I’ve seen all the yoga-with-a-Catholic-sticker-on-it programs out there and I wouldn’t enter in to any of them. I’ve been heavily involved in occult spirituality in my past and I’ll have none of it now. Give me Jesus alone!

So my openness to Pietra Fitness has been both intentional and careful. I don’t need yoga or want yoga and thank goodness Pietra isn’t yoga! I am going to talk about what Pietra Fitness IS and how I found myself here. So if you are looking for a Catholic fitness program or are a Catholic fitness professional (or want to be) looking for a way to expand, you might want to stick around for the conversation!

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What is Pietra Fitness?

Pietra Fitness classes combine physical exercises with Christian prayer, Scripture, and meditation (mental prayer in the Catholic tradition). Workouts enrich your body, mind, and soul so you can glorify God with your entire being and be refreshed and renewed for the work of your vocation. The physical exercises are designed to increase your flexibility, develop your muscle and core strength, and improve your posture and stability.

The program does not repackage yoga but reclaims what has been co-opted and distorted for a Christ-centered purpose. Instead of a Christian label plastered over a yoga workout, the entire structure has been carefully and deliberately constructed for the good of body and soul.

In the medical and natural wellness worlds, yoga is recommended to patients at every level. It is incorrect to say that we need yoga, but we do need options for managing stress and restoring function. Pietra offers a Christ-centered option for both, plus a spiritual component which brings us closer to the Divine Healer. I’ll revisit the yoga discussion in a moment, but first want to share how I went from skeptic to (future) instructor with Pietra.

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My Path to Pietra

The story of my healing from many years of debilitating illness includes a slow crawl out of physical atrophy and injury. I was suffering from degenerative disease and, as I slowly lost function and strength, I grieved the loss of an active and fitness-loving lifestyle.

I believe God allowed me to experience great suffering so that I might know Him more deeply and see how He has designed the world and my body to reflect His dignity and love. My full story is written elsewhere, but an important element has been strengthening my body one little intentional movement at a time. My experience with fitness aided me, but adding a faith-based element amplified the healing potential beyond my expectations.

Movement became synonymous with prayer time, offering the gift back to God the Father who, in turn, blessed me through the healing fruits of His creative design. Cortisol levels dropped. Strength returned. Mobility increased. Disease declined. Pain diminished. Mental health improved. Prayer increased.

My love of movement led me to begin again the study of the body and I was motivated to earn my personal training certification. I also became a leader in another beautiful Catholic fitness apostolate centered around the Rosary (of which I still am happily a part). And here I am now with Pietra, a very natural and blessed progression on the continuum of this journey.

Pietra Fitness has introduced a new dimension of healing. It has not been easy to get so up close and personal with the impact of many years of joint and muscle degeneration and loss of function. Pietra leads me gently to those limits and beyond, inspiring to great love and great courage, with a community of support and an intelligent approach to both faith and movement. It has truly been a holy work oriented toward service in vocation and always toward eternity.

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But Isn’t it Just Christian Yoga?

No. Yoga does not own bodily movement. If Pietra Fitness resembles yoga at times, it is because the movements reflect our God-given design. It is unavoidable. We are made to move.

And why am I spending so much time clarifying this point? Because I know my readers and you are faithful intelligent people. I know you are asking the question and deserve a thorough response. So let’s be absolutely clear…

The modern practice of yoga has grown from its origins to include many physiologically beneficial movements known to the fitness world. There is hardly a movement of the body that isn’t incorporated, and perhaps a few which shouldn’t be! To say that all these movements of the body are inherently evil or spiritually dangerous is incorrect, otherwise we should be afraid to stretch our bodies before going for a run.

I am not a superstitious person. If I pick up a stick, I’m not afraid it will become a wand. If my toddler bends into a posture that adults call “yoga,” I’m not concerned that she’s calling up demons. Clearly, it is the intention and context of our actions which make the difference.

Pietra Fitness has been designed with tremendous intentionality, under the guidance of Catholic priests and fitness professionals… so that any yoga specific postures, flows, or associations are removed, disrupted, or reclaimed for Christ. Certainly all postures or breathing patterns which are dangerous to the body are discarded as well as every shred of occult spirituality.

For those interested in learning more about why yoga is incompatible with Christianity and why Pietra is not yoga, I recommend the series What is Yoga: A Catholic Perspective. The articles were originally posted on spiritualdirection.com by Fr. Ezra Sullivan, who is the chaplain for Pietra Fitness. I also invite you to read Pietra Fitness is Not Yoga.

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The Program

The main components of the 9-month online group training P-FIT Certification Program are daily mediation, course work, practice, and practice teaching. Monthly live online conferences and easy access to instructors means that there is never a time when I’ve felt unsupported or unsure about what is happening.

When I received my box of training materials in the mail, I thought “This is beautiful. Thank God that the founder and the formation team are more organized than I am!” I have repeated those words of gratitude many times.

The founder, Karen Barbieri, has a clear and focused vision. Her staff reflect her vision with just as much graciousness, charity, and generosity. Father Ezra’s solid spiritual and theological counsel is evident throughout. Betsy Hoyt, Foundations 3 Pro Instructor and P-FIT Team Leader has been an absolute joy to work with. There have been many occasions when their kindness and availability have moved me forward when I was lost in the weeds of my own life drama and limitations.

The P-FIT Training Manual is a beautiful work encompassing a thorough study of the physical components of Pietra Fitness along with a companion spiritual program. If we don’t do yoga, we should know why we don’t, what we do believe, and how we become conduits of healing and mercy to everyone who we reach through our work. I do not say it lightly: This program is thorough.

Stretching benefits and techniques, bodily movement, good posture and alignment, proper breathing, human anatomy and nutrition, business and leadership, Catholic spirituality, bodily prayer… it’s all in there.

Along with the manual came a large San Damiano cross which accompanies us at every class and a full set of In Conversation With God which are part of our daily prayer commitment in the program. Surrendering to the work means that a student will emerge closer to Christ and better formed in every way. I have seen a lot of formation material in my time and the content is truly excellent.

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Getting Involved

For those who are interested in discerning becoming a Pietra Fitness instructor, I do recommend the program. Learn more HERE. I think it is a particular blessing to those who have a background in yoga instruction and who would like to transfer their experience and knowledge to a Catholic context. There is some relearning to do but imagine being able to open that door again to lead people to Christ instead of yoga!

For those who simply want to explore ways of healing and strengthening the body in a Catholic context, I recommend connecting with a local class or starting a free trial for the online classes available on the Pietra website. Start your trial HERE.

A word of advice for those of you who are a bit more seasoned like myself. Start slower than you want to. Pay attention to building a strong foundation. When I dove in to fitness again after years of being sidelined by illness, I was impatient and became discouraged. I was stubborn and wouldn’t click on anything that felt like “beginner.” I wanted to fly before I could crawl. I wanted to be 12 again and forget about the years that happened in between. And when I returned to the workouts in my instructor training, I was reminded of an important lesson:

My body is worthy of loving gentle care that honors its state in life, age, ability, weakness, and strength. It needs more silence, more attentiveness, more kindness than I’ve been willing to give it in the past.

Pietra Fitness has helped me see every movement through the eyes of my Creator and my Savior. And that is a priceless gift.

My practical exams are in the Fall (pray for me, please!) and I’m looking forward to extending another opportunity for grace and healing in my Catholic community.

The necessity of comparison: A response to the Catholic left

October was full of surprises this year, which included seeing my name published in the infamous America Magazine. To my great relief, the article was critical of me, which is the only way I ever hope to appear in a dissident publication. I might have remained ignorant of the thing except for an email I received which linked the article. The message, from someone who profoundly disagrees with much of what I believe, read something like this:

You should humble yourself and apologize for the terrible things you write.

The email arrived while I was mid-sickness with the Fauci flu. Reading the chastisement through the fog of illness, I wondered, What the heck did I write? Such a relief to find, after a quick skim, that it was much ado about nothing. I returned to the more necessary task of breathing and didn’t look again at the article until December.

I hadn’t planned to respond at all, but there is merit in correcting lies which the author promotes using my name. And because her erroneous ideas are spreading like a virus through the Church, it is worth engaging.

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5 MINUTES OF FAME

On October 8, 2021, America Magazine published an article by Jenn Morson entitled “Stop Comparing Vaccine Mandates to the Holocaust.” The title is itself a straw man. The content, a collection of logical fallacies and slander. No one ever said journalists are academics, but the lack of intellectual honesty here is surprising.

Morson only mentioned me briefly and I was surprised to be mentioned at all, let alone in the company of good men like Bishop Athanasius Schneider. I’m a pretty small fish, so having 5 critical sentences devoted to me in a large publication is not as harmful as one might think. My analytics certainly didn’t suffer and I even sold a copy of my book as a result. Anyway…

Morson writes:

Melody Lyons, a Catholic mother of eight who runs a popular Catholic blog and Instagram account, has posted several Covid-related criticisms invoking the Holocaust. In August, Ms. Lyons wrote that Hitler “was a neurotic germaphobe” and was able to “convince a nation to submit to his neurosis” by appealing to “the noble goal of ‘public health,’” leading to forced sterilizations and restrictions on the “unclean.” She also claimed that Nazi Germany developed tuberculosis vaccines on child subjects who were “dissected and then murdered.” This is, of course, not true. While there were horrific medical experimentations on children during the Holocaust, some involving tuberculosis, there was no vaccine developed in this way.

I’ll respond to each assertion seriatim. In the first, Morson writes:

Melody Lyons, a Catholic mother of eight who runs a popular Catholic blog and Instagram account, has posted several Covid-related criticisms invoking the Holocaust.

This is somewhat true. I am a Catholic mother of 8 and I have posted critically about Covid-related health orders. Though I have compared mandates to some abuses of the Nazis regime, I have not “invoked the Holocaust,” at least not in the senses or moral or even actual equivalence. People are not being murdered en masse in government camps in the US and no one is claiming they are.

What I have done is to highlight similarities between current orders in modern society and the orders of historical totalitarian regimes. There is much wisdom in examining history to avoid repeating its errors and horrors. Americans used to agree on that, and I hope we can vanquish the popular leftist tactic of intimidation that insists that this is verboten.

Here is one example of a comparison that should be considered:

May 1942: The German government bans Jews from public transport

November 2021: The German government bans the unvaccinated from public transport

The left will call you racist, insensitive, and a host of other insults for comparing those two events, even though a grade school child would quickly (and innocently) discern the similarities. Don’t talk about. Don’t investigate it. Don’t even think about it. What an absolutely absurd and harmful demand, not to mention contrary to the Catholic faith, which exhorts us to use our God-given reason to examine our actions in the light of faith.

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“HITLER WAS A NEUROTIC GERMAPHOBE” AND OTHER ACCURATE STATEMENTS

Morson’s next assertion is a little more interesting:

In August, Ms. Lyons wrote that Hitler “was a neurotic germaphobe” and was able to “convince a nation to submit to his neurosis” by appealing to “the noble goal of ‘public health,’” leading to forced sterilizations and restrictions on the “unclean.”

This is all absolutely true. Although shared out of context, none of my words are false. If you want to read the quotes as I originally wrote them, please see that post HERE. The details do matter and I’m glad Morson chose to highlight them.

Hitler manipulated the public fear of tuberculosis to implement abusive public health mandates such as forced sterilization, mandatory x-rays, travel restrictions, prohibition on marriage, etc. He used TB strategically, but he also passionately believed in the filthiness and contagiousness of his enemies. Much like the true believers of current US public health measures, many fervent German citizens under Hitler’s regime believed that the end (protection from the unclean) justified the means (human rights abuses).

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THE “V” WORD

Morson continues with her criticism:

She also claimed that Nazi Germany developed tuberculosis vaccines on child subjects who were “dissected and then murdered.” This is, of course, not true.

It is true that Nazi scientists used children in their vaccine development experiments. It is true that they surgically cut out certain organs to be inspected and tested in a lab (dissection). It is true that they subsequently killed these innocent children - by hanging - to cover up their crimes (murder). Morson’s objection comes across (oddly enough) like an attempt to soften the atrocities of the Nazi horror. Perhaps her eagerness to try to fit my words into her narrative of fabrication resulted in some sloppy work?

Morson concludes the paragraph:

While there were horrific medical experimentations on children during the Holocaust, some involving tuberculosis, there was no vaccine developed in this way.

Wrong. There were vaccines developed using experimentation on both children and adults. The research done on people was well-documented and she links evidence of that in her own article. These vaccines were, in fact, horrible failures. I never claimed that “safe and effective” vaccines were developed from children, but simply that the Nazis did develop TB vaccines by torturing and murdering innocent children. In truth, in the post from which Morson attempts to draw evidence against me, I specifically wrote…

“Many died from those experimental injections.⁣”

The left would prefer that no one draw a comparison between mandated low-efficacy, high risk, experimental vaccines of different eras. No one is suggesting that we interfere with a person’s right to choose to receive a vaccine. It is only the left that wishes to violate conscience and bodily autonomy by making such injections mandatory. The words of the inventor of RNA vaccine technology bear repeating:

Ask yourself if you want your own child to be part of the most radical medical experiment in human history.

Morson does not want you to ask. She wants you to mindlessly obey the same cowards who murder children for profit and recklessly strip free people of their God given liberties.

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THE LEFT SUPPORTS FORCED INJECTIONS

The fact that Morson supports mandatory injections places her in an awkward position with regard to immutable moral law and history. I understand why she would go to such lengths to suppress those who see similarities with Nazi tactics. Nobody wants to be associated, even remotely, with the progression of Nazi horrors.

But there is little fundamental moral difference between forcing unwanted mass sterilizations or forcing mass bodily injections. And let’s not quibble over terms. If opposition to a mandatory order is met with punishment, then the order is coercive and forced. The primacy of conscience and bodily integrity must be defended even when we don’t agree with the way our neighbors manage their health care.

Morson attempts to persuade using emotion and logical fallacies, but the fact remains… She supports forced injections. Her article is an effort to separate the idea of vaccine mandates from association with Nazi abuses. Sorry to break it to her, but her beliefs share the same decayed moral roots. If she’s uncomfortable in that space, let that be a catalyst for a deeper examination of conscience.

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COMPARISON IS NOT IMMORAL

Later in the article, Morson (or her editor) highlights in bold a quote from a Catholic priest, Father Satish Joseph, pastor at Immaculate Conception and St. Helen’s in Dayton, Ohio. Regarding the holocaust/mandate comparison, he says:

There is a level of immorality in comparing the two. One destroyed lives; the vaccine is to save lives.

I will offer a quick rebuttal, which is all the attention this unfortunate and irresponsible statement deserves. The only reason I address it at all is because our minds have been collectively shaken out of order and we aren’t thinking well these days. But on these important matters, we must speak and clarify.

Father Joseph claims:

“There is a level of immorality in comparing the two.”

Why? It is not immoral to make comparisons or to engage in study. Comparing historical evidence with the present is not a moral issue. It is prudence, concern for others, and common sense which compels us to measure current policy against historical policies. Father’s statement is shockingly ignorant.

Why aren’t we permitted to ask questions? To exercise vigorous scientific, historical, religious, and cultural debate? Who gets to decide which thoughts we are permitted to have, which comparisons we are authorized to make? Let us continue to ask the questions, make the comparisons, and act as responsible citizens and people of informed faith.

Father continues:

“One destroyed lives; the vaccine is to save lives.”

This is a Red Herring. The comparison is not between vaccines and the Holocaust. The comparison is between American public health mandates and the German public health mandates. Whether not one believes that an injection “saves lives” has no bearing on the fact that governments are punishing their citizens for not choosing it.

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When leftists demand that we stop making comparisons, they demand that we stop thinking and questioning so that will have license to do as they please without consequence. They would prefer not to be associated with such historical evil, and I don't blame them. But I will not stop using my intellect to contrast and compare where appropriate. Don't fall for their lies. There is nothing inherently insensitive or anti-Semitic about carefully examining the tragedies of history to make sure they never ever happen again.

I stand by everything I said in my original post. I continue to recognize similarities between current events and historical human rights abuses. The strong-arm tactics that Morson attempts to employ may ultimately impact emotion, physical freedom, and decision making, but they cannot change the immutable truths and laws of God. The truth is that the current mandates are indeed similar to the deadly and perverse health orders of tyrants and totalitarian regimes through history. I refuse to be silent on this matter.

The Hard Truth About Raising Catholic Teens

Everyone tells you not to blink... because your kids grow up that fast. What people fail to point out (because they are probably just being polite) is that while our kids are applying for college (about 5 minutes after you changed their last diaper), you are getting OLD. I ought to know. I've leveled up to being a mom of four adult children with four younger kiddos hot on their heels… and I recently became a grandma.

The point of this post is not to highlight the ways in which I feel the strain of having slipped deeper into my 40s; it is about the changes that I have seen in my 25 years of motherhood. How culture has changed. How I just never expected it to, especially within the Church, and why it's important for young (and middle and old) parents to know.

When I was a young mom, there were a lot of little families like ours, praying rosaries and boycotting Disney and talking about modesty while our kids played. We chatted about homeschooling and which curriculum we were using, and had All Saints' Day and St. Valentine's Day parties at which we actually prayed together.

As the years flew by, our lives have changed (mostly because our children have grown) and we have had to decide how to respond to the pressures of the culture. I'm not going to sugar coat. It gets messy in both families and communities. Soap opera level messy. It isn't really enough to go to daily Mass and pray the rosary and bake feast day cakes. I'm not saying that Jesus isn't enough. Just that, as parents, we are not enough.

Let me explain…

We can pass on the faith to a point, but we can never force a soul to receive it. A child has to develop that relationship with Jesus and begin to personally embrace and love His Word. Otherwise, all those hours of family adoration are just one-sided and our tallest kids might be approaching the Eucharistic table unworthily, with hardened hearts, and a growing antagonism toward the things of God.  

We don’t know what is going on in their hearts.

I have spent my motherhood pondering the secret to passing on the faith; to presenting it in such a way that it is more inviting than all the attractions of the world. Personal prayer is essential, but it must be accompanied by heroic actions that allow Christ to work strongly within a family and keep the lures of the world at bay. My motherhood demands sanctity. My vocation is made for it. It is not my job to mold my children into saints. It is my job to give them every opportunity, motivation and protection to allow them to say yes to Jesus. Then He is the one who will make them saints. I am a rough work in progress.

If we are to raise up a new generation of faithful Catholics, we have to start turning our American Catholic cultural ship around. How do we do that? I have a few ideas…

1) PAY ATTENTION TO A SHIFTING CULTURE

First, I see that the trend in Catholic families has shifted in the last 20 years. Instead of encouraging each other to keep the culture of death at bay, exhorting one another to practice heroic virtue, and helping to keep each other accountable, many are falling into the mindset that we can have our cake and eat it, too; that we are so secure in faith that the music, media, movies, books, clothes, and lifestyle we consume will not harm our ability to keep Jesus at the center of our lives. 

My perspective as a mother of teens is that it is hardly possible to keep the secular culture from consuming the hearts of our children if we do not stand up and deny it entrance to our activities and homes. That post is bigger than I'm able to write, but I'm living it and I want to give you that warning. Jesus promised us we would be persecuted for righteousness sake. If you are not feeling that pressure as a Catholic parent, I guarantee you that you are doing it wrong.

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2) IDENTIFY OBSTACLES TO GOODNESS

My second point is actually a short list of the primary means through which a culture of death reaches our children. Before you denounce me as Puritan, examine your family culture for holes. Go through your kids' phones and rooms and your own and ask: Do these influences honor and glorify Christ?

PEERS - It is my opinion and experience that this is the single biggest contributing factor to the loss of faith in our young. If your kids are not homeschooled, your immediate obstacles are greater than mine in this regard, but homeschoolers are not shut off from the world. Negative peer influence can have a profoundly damaging effect. Don't underestimate it. It sometimes happens that bad kids will change for the better because of your good kids, but human nature being what it is, that is not the typical result. St Paul reminds us in 1 Corinthians 15:33… “Do not be deceived: ‘Bad company ruins good morals.’'

MUSIC - Music is a powerful force on our minds, bodies and souls. If our kids listen to music, they are being mentored and formed by it. Pretty much every kid listens to music... so how are their choices forming them? Most pop culture music teaches them to accept (even passively) a culture of death.

Do not be conformed to this world but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that you may prove what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect. (Romans 12:2)

INTERNET - Oh, heaven help us. I don't have the answer to the problems this marvelous beast creates. Let me just say that there is no such thing as "moderate" internet access. The door is either open or it isn't. I am not impressed by security features and whatnot. Eventually, the door opens, often even before we realize it has. And then you'd better be a praying mama who isn't afraid to lose household popularity.

MOVIES/TV - The kids are learning. Absorbing everything. Do we teach them God's commands and then undermine it with garbage on the screen? They learn quickly that we don't really mean what we say. We are hypocrites if we don't live out our love for Christ by setting proper boundaries for ourselves and our kids. They see everything. If we normalize sin by our viewing habits, we should expect them to imitate what we have taught them through that example.

BOOKS - Fifteen years ago, moms I knew were banging on the doors of the local Catholic school wanting to know why trash was in the school library. That rarely happens anymore. We have lost our collective identity, our sensitivity, and our nerve. Also, saying “I'm happy just to see them reading something” is like saying “I’d rather that they ate rat poison than nothing.” We can do better.

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3) DISRUPT THE ENTRENCHED PATTERN OF BAD CATECHESIS

Younger families, please pay attention, because you don't know yet what a difference the next decade will make in the life of the Church and you should be prepared for the sake of your kids...

My generation, the JPII generation... has failed to properly catechize younger Catholics.

We thought we had it all together and that our kids would catch the same fire we had. We thought we had fixed the errors of our parents' poorly catechized upbringing and that we would do it differently with our own kids… and then they would fall in love with the Church just like we did. Some of us still believe that is what is going on. Perhaps it is in small pockets around the country. But the broader truth is not as pretty.

We are now seeing a new generation of failed catechesis. Worse than the one before. Because let's be honest, the ones who poorly formed us (before we caught Holy Fire) are still teaching... and they taught the teachers... who teach our kids. And us? We are still working through our own limitations, especially if we had later conversions or were poorly catechized ourselves. We too heavily rely on a support system that has not fully recovered from a near death blow. The ship is full of holes but we just cheerfully keep repainting the hull.

Many of the young people I am seeing grow up in the Church (who fill our youth groups and Catholic colleges) can be marked by a defining characteristic: Their faith is shallow.

They love being Catholic while it serves them. They appear devout and attend youth group and go to Steubenville conferences every year. They go to all 42 chastity talks put on by their church and school. But they aren't really living the moral teachings of the Church. And if they are, they drop it as soon as it is no longer convenient. They are becoming the next generation of cafeteria Catholics, with a minimal understanding of what it means to pursue virtue and almost no understanding of a real spiritual life…

And they have a lot of people completely snowed, including their youth group leaders, their priests and their parents. This does not exclude homeschoolers. In fact, homeschooled kids with wandering hearts are often exceptionally good at playing the role of dutiful child.

I'm generalizing. Obviously. But, by virtue of being a mother of teens and young adults, I have unwittingly entered the drama of youth and I'm going to be very blunt here about what I see. It is difficult beyond what I imagined to find holy friendships for my teens; friendships where there is a mutual effort towards sanctity and faithfulness. I thank God for the blessing of friends in my children's lives but it does not look at all like I thought it would. I thought it would be somehow... bigger. I thought there would be more families who would stay in the fight. Who wouldn’t fall to the lures of the world, porn, infidelity, radical agenda, and battle fatigue.

I thought my kids would be perfect. I thought I could make it happen. It turns out I don’t have that much power over anything.

So I'm getting older. And part of my oldness is that I don't care nearly so much about what other moms are doing anymore because I'm just busy fighting like heck for the souls of my children and climbing my own mountains. I was that mom who thought MY teens would be different. And they are. I have good kids who I love and like (well, usually). But it’s not what I thought it would be at all.

When young moms publicly share their struggles with having multiple small children and their deep desire to just get a shower and a few hours sleep, and about reading Green Eggs and Ham for the hundredth time while all the kids are crying at once and the baby pees in her lap and the toddler accidentally swallows the miraculous medal he ripped off her chain... well, I secretly kind of wish I had those days back with my older kids. If I did, I would do some things differently…

I would slow down. I still have little ones around me but it's different now and I can't really ever go back to that treasured time. Time is flying and we are getting older. It is a breathtaking, exhilarating, beautiful adventure. And wow... I just wish I had been a little better prepared.

To all you young families who are relying on your Jesse Trees and daily rosaries to get your kids to heaven, I have hard news for you. There will come a day when your best weapon will be your knees hitting the cold floor. Like a reality game show where you create your masterpiece going a mile a minute and then the buzzer sounds and... hands up!... done. Whatever you left undone remains undone. And you start learning a few more things about prayer and long suffering. Because your kids have free will. And the culture is a devouring lion. Do what you can now to instill not only a solid liturgical rhythm in your home, but also a strong culture of Christian mission. Of radical discipleship. 

Does it honor Jesus? No? GET RID OF IT. Tell your kids why. And build them an alternative that outshines the allure of sin.

I'm not writing just to rant for others. I'm writing for selfish reasons. Because I need a Catholic community that is courageous in virtue and radical in discipleship to catch my kids when they step out of the nest. I am an imperfect mother and long for support. I am not content with what exists right now. We were made for something greater. 

How to Celebrate a Catholic Confirmation

{This post contains affiliate links. I may receive compensation for purchases you make through my links. More info Here.}

Spoiler: There is no perfect way to celebrate a Confirmation other than to invite the Holy Spirit into the heart of your day and proceed with joy! But it is a cause for feasting and communal rejoicing… so I’ve compiled some of little touches which have helped us acknowledge the greatness of the event.

How do I prepare for a party? I essentially just poke around Pinterest until I find something beautiful that recalls to mind both guests of honor: the Holy Spirit and the Confirmandi! And then I find one item of focus and start to build from there.

As you can tell, I’m artistically minded and paint a party like a Monet. It doesn’t make sense to everyone but as long as the final picture reflects something lovely, it’s fine. My DIY blog posts will drive the super-planners among you batty. With that in mind…

Below are basic rules for putting together your party. And if you are looking for more ideas after this post, I’ve written about this before HERE .

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RULE #1: THERE ARE NO RULES

I mean that. As long as you have your people, your joy, a central focus on the things of God, you’re good to go. And even if you are a hot mess with a newborn on your hip and a clogged toilet… party cheerfully anyway! The Spirit is working in you and around you… let your mess be an adventure of refinement. Offer it all to Him as a gift and let Him make it good.

MAKE ONE THING BEAUTIFUL (and put it in the middle)

No one will ever accuse me of being a domestic diva. And parties are not my strength. If that is your challenge as well, just focus on making one thing beautiful. And I don’t mean just Instagram-worthy… I mean something meaningful which has the potential to make a memory but also is oriented towards hearts.

This may sound shallow, but I find that I’m pretty good at doing this through dessert (I will share some of my successes below). And I don’t mean that I’m a great baker, only that I’m creative and find that it’s a way to express what I’m pondering about the goodness of God.

But this can be done in other ways…

Decor.
Letter writing.
Floral arrangements.
Gift giving.
Sewing.
Pictures.
Prayer.
Music.
Fellowship.
Family.

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PRAY

Pray all through the prep and all through the day. Confirmation is easy because you can just pray COME, HOLY SPIRIT! and then hit repeat. It is especially helpful when you accidentally ruin the cake and have to start all over again. But also pray it all through Mass, preparations, and dish washing.

God knows your heart and hears the changing inflections. He comes because He is faithful. Bring Him into your preparations and party. Bring Him into your interactions, stress, and clean up. You will be imperfect. But He is there.

Here’s a wonderful Holy Spirit Novena to pray as well. There isn’t one specific time that a novena has to be prayed. Maybe pray it leading up to Pentacost or pray leading up to Confirmation. Novena to the Holy Spirit for the Seven Gifts

READ (and talk about it)

In the days leading up to the sacrament, walk your family through the Acts of the Apostles in Scripture. Read about Pentacost and the manifestations of the Holy Spirit. Help your family see that this is not a story book but a family history. It is real. Emphasize that this same Spirit which poured out gifts and power on the Apostles is the same one which will descend during the Confirmation Mass.

I also recommend diving into the Church’s teachings on the sacrament. Here are some of my thoughts on why Confirmation is not a “rite of passage” but a free and unmerited gift at any age. What Confirmation is… and what it is not.

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WHAT TO WEAR?

I am not uptight about apparel. I used to be much more conscious of clothing details. Then two things happened: 1) I experienced a time of poor health during which I had more children and was thrilled to be able to get them out the door with matching shoes, and 2) I became more conscious of the economic disparity at different parishes and realized I was dressing my children for the wrong audience (people instead of God).

Some parishes are quite formal (like First Communion) and you will likely know if that’s the case. Otherwise, I like white and it seems to be traditional but it’s very difficult to find a modest, affordable, white, warm weather dress, so we are flexible. We once found a beautiful ice blue dress with a delicate white lace overlay and it was perfect.

That’s my long-winded way of saying that it’s important that my kids dress nicely. But for Confirmation, there are really only two requirements:

• Clean and tidy

• Fitting to the dignity of the person and the sacrament

We found this dress for $40 and it was perfect. There were no straps to monkey with, no plunging neckline, and no length issues. But it was modern enough to please a growing young lady.

THE FLUFFY STUFF

I will never tell you that the details are unimportant. They are important! But I also know that the means and abilities of each family vary wildly. Some will go out to a nice dinner and some will BBQ. Some will rent a hall. Some will have a quiet dinner at home. If you are a DIY party person, you might enjoy my “fluffy'“ suggestions below. Meaning that they are the extras which make life colorful… the frosting… but are non-essential…

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COOKIES

We go big with cookies because they are so easy to customize and feed to crowds. These cut-outs take some time to prepare in big batches and the icing takes a day to cure. But with a little planning, they add a lot of fun to our feasting. The Recipe that I use is here:

The Essential Sugar Cookie Recipe

To all of you who follow me for healthy living…

All these deserts are gluten free. None of these deserts are healthy. Listen, we live in an imperfect world with compromises. Full disclosure is that I don’t eat this stuff because my health will suffer immediately for it. But my family does. And I do my best but also remain flexible. Adapt for your circumstances.

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CAKES

Decorating cakes is like a personal throw down for me. I have almost zero decorating skills but, since I am a creative/artistic person, I feel like I should be able to conquer the media without much stress. Challenge accepted! However…

A lazy and impatient cake decorator usually ends up with… a mess. Maybe tears. I try not to swear so maybe just some primal screams.

So my successes are really exciting.

Since I have not perfected a stable healthy gluten free cake recipe, I generally use a GF box mix for party-sized occasions. Perfect for a crowd that is usually predominately gluten-eating and accustomed to more commercial textures and flavors. My current favorite is Pamela’s chocolate. It tastes great and has great texture. For some reason, GF vanilla is never as moist.

This year’s cake was the result of a vision I had after scouring Pinterest. I saw flame suckers made from Isomalt and knew instantly that I wanted them as a cake topper. Then I stumbled across a very feminine white rosette cake and the vision was complete.

I usually don’t end up with anything close to my vision. This time, I pretty much nailed it…

Working with the Isomalt was a little nerve-racking and I could have used a couple practice runs before attempting the final topper. However, I only ordered 8 ounces of Isomalt and so I had to get it right the first time. I think I will only get better at it over time. Here is the tutorial I used: Fiery Cinnamon Suckers

And here are some things I learned:

• Isomalt is hot. All the tutorials say that but it just doesn’t really hit home until you’re pulling out the burn ointment.

• I purchased edible glitter in red. The gold never arrived but would have been beautiful. I did use a luster dust in gold that I already had and it was pretty but more opaque than I wanted.

• I used red and yellow food coloring

• I did not add flavoring because I did not intend for the toppers to be eaten… even though they are technically edible.

• I bought large (8”) sucker sticks at Walmart. I think they are meant for large cake pops. They went all the way through the cake which helped stabilize. I only needed 2 for my topper.

• If you accidentally break your creation, you can pop it back in the oven, remelt, and fix. I did this TWICE. So frustrating. Also, my colors blended together more than I wanted. But it’s all okay in the end. Let it go. (Come, Holy Spirit!)

• Use Silpat (or a reputable knock off) or high grade silicone. It’s really the only thing that let’s go of the Isomalt easily.

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CAKE FROSTING

In my dream world, I use the finest ingredients to make buttercream. I prefer the natural cream color of a grass-fed butter used in a recipe like THIS. I don’t mind if my cake gets melty and has to be stuck back in the fridge. But…

In a party world with more people and warm weather and cake-as-centerpiece, something more stable is helpful. This Wilton recipe is my compromise with the evil of Crisco: Easy Vanilla Buttercream. Better than a grocery store cake for sure, but I still have to hold the nose of my health-conscious sensibilities…

But hey, we’ve gone this far… let’s keeping going.

My favorite filling is a flavored buttercream, using an all butter buttercream with an addition like chocolate, salted caramel, or strawberry. I used dehydrated strawberries for the flame Confirmation cake and it was delicious. I added extra heavy whipping cream to increase moisture but totally over mixed it… which was sad aesthetically but did not impact the flavor.

Note: If you want to use dehydrated strawberries for healthier deserts, I recommend organic. The link above is for Amazon since many shop there but I purchase most of my clean goods through Thrive Market. I find that items there are often cheaper than store or Amazon. Get 25% off your first order HERE.

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MORE IDEAS AND DECOR

The last Confirmation party we had was definitely different in theme. I went very feminine with flowers and a dove instead of fire. Anything would have been appreciated since my children are so gracious, but I saw a picture of a succulent cake posted by a friend and… it was a throw down. I’m going to share the original link even though it makes me look bad: Stunning Succulent Cakes

Never piped flowers in your life? It’s fine. Waited until the last minute? Fine, fine. Used buttercream that melts quickly? Live and learn. The cake worked out. But the kitchen was literally covered in sugar.

I made the most beautiful fondant dove for this cake. And then I broke it. First time ever using fondant. In future, I would make the thing well ahead of time instead of last minute. My second bird was not as beautiful (because it had no wings and just wasn’t elegant like I had envisioned) and never did dry. However…

No one noticed or cared! (Second image has more accurate colors but no bird)

At some point in my cake making adventures, I purchased this set of piping tips which I have used innumerable times since then. Cookies, cupcakes, cakes, whipped cream, everything. I don’t really know how to use them well. I fake it all right much of the time.

I really love to make favors. I didn’t have time this year but that’s the way it goes. In years past, we have used Dove dark chocolate candies (red wrappers), Swedish fish (icthus!), homemade merengue candies, and fruity tootsie rolls (fruits of the Spirit).

Once upon a time, I made a fabric Confirmation banner that reads “VENI SANCTE SPIRITUS”… Come Holy Spirit! I misplaced it for this party (naturally) but I know it’s here somewhere and I do love how it turned out. It’s okay… I have 4 more Confirmations to go! You can find instructions HERE.

And that’s all for this year. I’m so excited for you and your family as you head into this incredible sacramental celebration. The Spirit of the living God will be present with you in a powerful way. What an awesome privilege!

As you prepare your home and make your lists, I encourage you to also prepare your hearts. How can we make a beautiful home for the Holy Spirit to reside? And how can we surrender our lives so that His power might rise up in us like a mighty flame of charity?

Come Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful and kindle 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.

O, God, who by the light of the Holy Spirit, did instruct the hearts of the faithful, grant that by the same Holy Spirit we may be truly wise and ever enjoy His consolations, Through Christ Our Lord, Amen.

Homeschooling is not my vocation

The word around the digital water cooler lately is that homeschooling is a kind of vocation and that parents are either called to it or they are not. I know that line well. I hear it frequently from moms who tell me they absolutely cannot-no-way-never-ever homeschool. They'd love to. But they're not called to homeschooling. 

I don't disagree simply to be contrary (although my teens seem to love that sport), but because it is important for Catholic parents to understand what vocation is and what it is not -- and to be clear about what it means to be called to something. I also hope that all parents will be encouraged to explore the sacred gift that they have right within their homes, their Ecclessia Domestica (church of the home). Contrary to the idea of homeschooling as vocation, I want to share the truth that successful homeschooling doesn't require any particular grace other than the existing sacramental graces of marriage and the graces of a life of faith, rooted in the sacraments... and the will to do it.

So, I suppose I'll be disagreeable in one way. But I'll balance it by saying that it's not a specific vocation to send your kids to an institutional school either. 

What is your vocation? 

The very first vocation that all Catholics are called to is HOLINESS. Sanctity. Radical discipleship in the very heart of Christ. After that, comes our specific vocation to either the religious life, priesthood, marriage, or the generous single life. Those paths are blessed by the graces of our sacramental "yes" and it is our obligation as married or consecrated people to pursue holiness (God's will) in the details of our lives. 

If we become parents within the vocation of marriage, we are then obligated to raise and educate our children -- not primarily to calculus and music theory -- but in the ways of goodness and truth in the heart of Christ. It is not our vocation, but within our vocation that we find ourselves navigating the stumbling blocks of the world in order to do so. 

Are you called to homeschool?

Well, what does it mean to be called? Because the term is so casually and frequently used among Christians, there is definitely some confusion. The word often simply used to describe a very strong feeling that something is a good thing to do. It may be of God or it may not be. We often use it in the following ways:

"I feel really called to be on the parish renewal planning committee this year."
"God is putting it on my heart to start wearing skirts more often."
"I feel called to spread the messages of Our Lady of Fatima."
"God is calling me to write a book."

Whether or not such statements are true, a concern is that we can allow our feelings to become the barometer that we use to gauge our own faithfulness. God calls us to holiness. Period. Each decision that we make must be subject to that particular discernment. Does it serve God first? Does it serve my primary vocation as a parent? And so on. Otherwise, we become confused. A strong inclination toward an apparent good may be erroneously thought to be a direct command of God. A few examples of possible discernment errors (based on real events in my life or the lives of those I have met)...

"God is calling me to marry you." Nope.
"I feel that I am being called to join this lay apostolate." Nope.
"I am being called to support this Marian apparition even though it has been condemned." Nope.
"God is calling me to leave my wife and kids and live life as a single." Nope.
"I feel called to leave the Catholic Church and join a 'biblical' church." Nope.

So is it possible that someone can think they are not “called” or equipped to homeschool never-ever-not-a-chance... and be wrong? Yep.

I don't have a vocation to homeschool any more than you have a vocation to send your kids to be taught by Miss Betty. We share the same vocation and the same obligation as the primary educators of our children. The details after that are simply a matter for prayerful and prudential discernment. I am "called" to homeschool insofar as I am called to pursue holiness. Prayer, reason, intellect, observation... all combine to help us make the right decision for our kids.

Goals worth pursuing aren't always emotional satisfying -- and the burdens experienced during homeschooling can cause confusion if we are expecting grace to make things easy for us. It is not uncommon to interpret happy feelings as God's stamp of approval on our choices. That emotional confusion often leads parents (especially moms) to declare:

"I'm just not called to homeschool like you are. I'm not very patient or good at teaching. Now you... you are so good at it. You definitely have a calling that I do not have."

And really, just... Nope. The right thing is not usually the easy thing.

Homeschooling is one of the greatest blessings of my life. Even so, the rewards aren't always temporal. It is better than awesome (in the cultural sense of the word) because it is good, in the eternal sense. It allows for a little more movement into God's dream for the family. But, it can be a practical mistake for homeschoolers to romanticize or over-spiritualize a largely pragmatic decision. And I'll be honest with you...

If you can hold a job and manage to get through a day without getting fired, lost, forgetting most of your appointments, hitting anyone, screaming, or throwing things, then you can homeschool. If you can read, follow directions, order things online, talk on the telephone, navigate the library, communicate with people, and research how-to's, then you can homeschool. But it's not just a job to home educate... it is intertwined permanently with your vocation to love your own. 

Homeschooling is tough because parenting is tough. I am far better suited to other things (for example, I'd make a darn good crazy cat lady). Fortunately, I know that anything worth doing requires some struggle. And I know through the example of the saints (and Christ Himself), that God asks us to follow Him to uncomfortable and surprising places. 

The biggest mistake made by discerning parents is to make their decision based on feeling. They assume that just because a thing is scary, overwhelming, unknown, and out of their comfort zone, that God must not want them there. At a very fundamental level of discernment, this is a mistake. You know what would have felt awesome this morning? Eating my breakfast in a quiet house with all of the kids being fed and taught by other people... somewhere else. But that is not the decision that my husband and I have discerned to be the best for my kids or, frankly, for me.

So, should you homeschool? 

There are a lot of things that go into a decision like that and there is rarely a divine lightening bolt which prescribes the nitty gritty details of the Christian life. I think you should because homeschooling is amazing and I want everyone to have an amazing life. But I humbly acknowledge that there is no magic pill for the perfect education of our children. Human nature and behavior are complex. What isn't complex is our vocation…

We are called to be holy and to lead our children to Christ. Once we have made that top priority, each detail should be able to pass the test: Does it lead them closer to Jesus? 

The biggest obstacle to success in my homeschool will always be me and my limitations and failures. But as Mother Teresa said, "Christ does not call us to be successful, He calls us to be faithful." And as she exemplified so beautifully in her own life, that usually looks like a whole lot of grace and hard work. Welcome to your vocation... whether or not you homeschool.

“Many people mistake our work for our vocation. Our vocation is the love of Jesus.”

— St. Theresa of Calcutta

Mirror, mirror on my phone: Finding identity in a digital age (a short story)

I sink into a chair and check my phone. My morning has been rough—kids bickering and dishes piling and I need to connect. Just connect. Tell me, little black box, about my place in the world… affirm me.

So I look to my social media apps and spot Instagram. I love Instagram. Inordinately? I don’t know. But I’m just resting for a minute. So it’s fine. It’s fine. I have notifications so my endorphins kick in and I click. Because I need that boost, you know? And there it is…

Mirror, mirror on the wall… who am I today?

Wait and see. Connection. Affirmation. Well, I’m here for it. I need it. Probably.

I see the beautiful people and the “raw” people. Maybe it’s make-up free Monday… I don’t know. What day is it again? I should probably wash the dishes. And then I click my messages and it begins…

A woman I have never met expresses concern. Because she doesn’t see herself in me and it grates. She wants to know if I am racist. Just to be sure. To console herself? Or confirm? I don’t know…

No, I’m not.
You must be.
I’m not.
Where’s your black box? Why don’t I see myself reflected in you? Why don’t I understand you? Why aren’t you more loving? Why are you ignorant?

I don’t know. Who are you again? Who am I? Mirror, mirror on my phone…

So I tentatively pick up that label that I know isn’t mine and carry it just for a little while… nestled in my irritation. Because isn’t that what a Christian girl does? Humility. Gentleness. They always get to strike the other cheek. They get to tell me who I am. Don’t they?

No, they don’t. I know these things and I know why. But I can’t finish my thought because I have a notification. Ugh… it has power over me and I don’t even care. I feel the struggle and want to rise but I’m not up to it. The dishes are still there. And it feels like a headache and stomach ache are both in my throat…

Creepy message from a single man in Albania.
Kind words from friends and strangers.
Articles, memes, chatter that I love.
And a few more…

“It’s people like you…”
”Stupid…”

I’m tired and there’s a tiny nagging temptation just to agree for the sake of silence. To delete what I’ve written. To become invisible.

I’m a dumb racist. It’s okay. I’m learning and growing and they are teaching me. Teaching me about myself. I never did have much confidence and this is why. They know better… they always do…

Whoever they are. The louder ones.

And so I leave Instagram with my bag of self-knowledge partially filled and my mind battling with half-truths and the search for virtue. I go to Twitter where no one ever likes my Tweets and it’s fine. I’ve never been witty anyway. It’s fine, it’s fine.

I like to read and learn… and today, I need connection and affirmation. I also don’t want to to wash the dishes.

Hello acedia… I know you are here. Hello sloth and gluttony and pride and all the others! You’re already in my bag. I’ll get to you later. Later. Be quiet for now… I’m connecting.

I see topics trending and read back a couple days to catch up because I’m out of touch. I never can catch up but I should try. I know I should. And so I see some popular Catholics weighing in. They couldn’t see me and didn’t talk to me but they talked about me…

Well, not about me exactly… because I’m invisible on Twitter. It’s best that way. But they talked about people like me and what we think, and some of them called me names.

Not me personally, you understand. But my kind. My type. You know the ones… Ignorant, uncharitable, shockingly lacking in any sense of justice.

Sigh. What is truth? Who are you? Who am I?

I try to reach out and they bite my hand. Maybe it was accidental. But they call me “Honey” and “Friend” and how likely is it that every word of greeting on Twitter is sarcastic or condescending? Well… never mind. I don’t know. Who does know? They seem to know.

“Stupid.”
”Really?”
*eye roll*
”Rigid.”
”Hardly Catholic”

I pick up my affirmations (that is what I came for after all) and put them in my bag and put my bag on my back… and some of the heavy things leake into my heart. Heavy.

That’s because it’s all so real, I think. Enough shallow social media fluff! We need real and raw. It’s gritty. Because real holiness is gritty…

So I admire the weight of my introspective labels and put on my brave face to repeat them. I’m enlightened now, I think…

I am a racist, ignorant, witless, unloving, invisible garbage person. And this heaviness, of course, is the presence of growing humility and awareness. I am connected to my faults and growing. Growing.

I think about the dishes and feel a little sad… I just can’t overcome the dishes. If I only had a dishwasher. Not my fault. But perhaps I can try harder today and win the battle. After Facebook. It won’t take long.

And I click with a weary finger, a little heavy now. The failures of the day are gathering weight. And momentum.

I am enlightened and lifted by connection. My community keeps me going.
Click.
Stumble.
Repeat.
I should really get off my phone.

Facebook doesn’t disappoint and I have notifications that scroll down for 8 inches. My endorphin response proves ever-faithful. I’ve touched one soul and hurt another. I’m a good Christian. I’m a false Catholic. I’m arrogant and small-minded. I’m dangerous. I’m a gift.

I pick up all the words and the light ones slip through my fingers and the heavy ones remained. I say they refine me. Because I know that the virtuous soul is humble and takes correction. But who is teaching me? Who is refining? It’s all a bit of a blur.

Messenger notifications announce a new message and I click again. Someone is there who wants to talk to me. And he does… Even though he doesn’t know me, he kicks me. And I shrink.

“Obnoxious faithless fool.”

He knows more. He has letters. He has authority. And he keeps kicking and I fight back a little and then set boundaries. I have cancelled him. Maybe they’re right about me. I’m intolerant… of kicking. Broken. Ignorant. Weak. Ridiculous. He is wrong. Yet he is right.

Somewhere in between enlightenment and the next app, my courage fails and I start to cry. I am overwhelmed, perhaps by the blessing of connection. Of course. It is all so raw and real. And the heaviness is too much for me because I am a loser. I feel anxious and depressed because I am carrying that identity. Loser. I was born with it, they say. And I allow words to shake me and form me…

Ignorant white b!*%#, invisible, garbage, unloving, witless, arrogant loser.

And I can’t walk to the kitchen sink. And I can’t move. Because I went looking for my identity… from the mouths of liars.

My head falls to the table and my knees hit the proverbial floor. Not the real floor. Because really, I’m just frozen. But I lay my virtual identity at the foot of the Cross. I almost forgot to do that, but, you know, my heart just couldn’t carry it… and He can.

Here I am, Lord. This is me. I’m sorry. You’ll have to fix it. I can’t do it. I can’t even get the dishes done and even really really bad moms can get the dishes done.

He looks me in the soul and asks…

Is this who you are?

And when I look back, I see myself in His eyes and I know.

No, Lord. I am many terrible things. I am a great sinner. I am a fool. But these labels I carry today are from liars. And I have placed myself in their hands instead of placing myself in Yours. Refine me.

I don’t hear an answer even though I wait so long. It’s never as simple as the children’s saints stories. And the adult versions are so bloody. My mind wanders and rattles. It cannot just sit and wait. I remember how the enemy once gave me an identity that almost destroyed me…

It called me nothing. failure. regret. worthless. And it was Christ alone who reached into those lies and saved not only my mind and soul… but also my body. I had given up.

The voices are a mirror, Lord, but you are a window. You are life. I recognize the demons and fidget uncomfortably while I wait for rescue.

Disappointed in the silence from outside and the noise inside, I give up and look at the dishes. So much disappointment. But also clarity. And so I take my place at the sink and pick up a glass.

It is heavy, Lord. The glass is heavy. Heavier than it was before I went looking for myself in the chatter of the ones with voices.

Hush. You walked into a room of thieves. Did you expect to retreat unscathed? You were foolish. But you are not who they say you are. Who are you?

I am Melody. I am small and broken. I am Yours.

And as I washed, I healed. A young child wandered out of bed and as she greeted me, she pieced me together…

Good morning, Mommy.
What color am I, Little One?
You are pink. And brown. And peach.
And who am I?
You are my mommy.

And she takes my hands… and her hand cannot fully embrace mine because I hold my phone. I have to let go of my digital burden in order to accept her wholly. And my identity is illuminated. I am very happy to be a somebody for no reason other than the desire of a child to be connected to me.

I move imperfectly through my day. And I go to bed with dishes in the sink.

I set my bag down on the floor. I have cleaned it out with God’s grace but the residue remains. It’s hard to clean a bag like that after it has been made foul. I should throw it away… but I’m kind of attached. Maybe I can keep the bag and figure out a way to wash it better.

In the morning, I awaken and repeat the whole process again. But some days, I grow a little in His care and shrink a little more into His arms. And the best days are the ones when no one is allowed to teach me about who I am other than the One Who created me.

Avoiding Death by Destroying Health: Unmasking the COVID Response

2020 has been a tremendous year of healing for me. I am celebrating that fact even in the midst of anxiety and grief over the strangeness of the world. I am deeply grateful for what God has done in my life through both the struggle of sickness and the process of recovery.

Some of you know my story, some don't. The long version is written in other places. But part of the story is told in the pictures below, which were taken one year apart in the same place. What the second doesn't show well is the scabbing malar rash, the jaundice, the severe bodily pain, the tear ducts that wouldn't cry, the joints that wouldn't bend, the nausea, the muscle spasms, the organ stress, the hypoxia, the hair loss, the lung inflammation, the failing will, and the broken heart.

It has been a long and painful journey and it isn’t over. But so filled with a depth of mercy that it seems wrong to complain. Easy for me to say since I am feeling well at the moment! But nonetheless true.

One of the blessings of my experience is that I am better prepared to face the COVID-panic with a rational mind. I am not more afraid of a high survival virus than I am of anything which can kill me (like highway driving or 1001 triggers for autoimmune crisis). In order to thrive in the midst of risk and fear, I have had to learn to embrace the reality of my death. And so my mind and soul are freer than they might otherwise be.

Living a happy and peaceful life in the midst of risk is only possible with a healthy acceptance of death. There is no reasonable hope of avoiding death. We can numb our fear. Ignore reality. Pretend that we will live forever (or to at least 90). But it is a futile effort to stave off the invariable outcome.

I can say with confidence that true healing and happiness does not come from avoiding viruses. Impossible. There will always be another threat. But we have forgotten...

Healing comes from honoring the design of the body and being prepared to face the inevitability of death. Avoiding risk is not possible. In fact, behaviors focused on avoidance of suffering instead of building of health often lead to pathology. For example, living a sedentary life to avoid pain or risk leads to more pain and disease. Chronic fear leads to immune-damaging stress and psychological problems.

Honestly addressing bodily healing (including mental health) means facing the uncomfortable disparity between what we say we want to do (keep everyone safe) and what we are actually doing (increasing the likelihood of long term trauma and illness).

While some people will die of COVID, most will not, even among the vulnerable. And we do know that COVID is not an equal opportunity killer. Physicians tell us that it almost exclusively prefers those who are already sick. In the general population, those at greatest risk are those who are obese, with heart disease, diabetes, or other factors which increase the risk of death even without COVID.

The exceptions are just that… exceptions. We will all die. Often not in the way we would choose.
Memento mori.

And yet, it is often those who do the least for their own health who scream the loudest at the healthy. They want others to stop living so that they might have a false sense of what will keep them safe. They want us to accept their authority (and the government’s) over our bodies.

It is not the way of Christ. It is not scientific. It is not rational. It is not healing.

When the bitterness, ignorance, and lack of compassion comes from fellow Christians, it is deeply hurtful. Ironically, it will ultimately contribute to a decline in their health and immune function at the same time it tears down the spirits and health of others.

I have worked incredibly hard to heal my broken body and have met with successes and failures. I have learned much about immune health (sometimes researching many hours a day by necessity) and as a result, changed everything to live by God's design instead of a lifestyle which contributes to disease.

This journey of chronic illness (as anyone in my shoes knows) is arduous and lonely, even when surrounded by support and love. Suicide rates are quite high in the chronically ill. In a time of COVID, I have been alarmed to discover that, in spite of the insistence that we must love others, there is less love, more isolation, greater harshness, and less interest in understanding.

Those who are at greatest risk for death are also the least cared for… body, mind, and soul. COVID response has been disastrous and certainly not proportionate to risk.

There is very little love in this effort to “stop the monster” of COVID. And haven’t we become little monsters ourselves when we scream in fear at our healthy neighbors who are standing only 5 and a half feet away instead of 6? Or report them to the government for sharing a meal with friends?

A young man I know was recently in a store and pulled down his mask under his nose for a moment. He was feeling unwell and just needed a breath. A woman his grandmother’s age, who was outside of the acceptable 6-foot boundary, berated him. He replied: “I wasn’t feeling well.” She was unmoved. “I don’t care about your feelings! I have asthma and you could kill me!”

One of my kids witnessed an incident in another store where an elderly man slammed his cart into the cart of an elderly woman. She was too close to him in the checkout line. There was yelling and threats were made and, eventually, the police were called.

Such is the “new normal,” where a woman’s innate maternal compassion is supplanted with cold bitterness. And a man’s inclination to defend the weak, is replaced by violent hatred. We are clearly a post-Christian culture when we not only refuse to touch the leper, but also the healthy young man with unmarred skin. We have killed our responsiveness to the Imago Dei. We have covered it in exchange for a false sense of security.

I can live poorly or well. I can die poorly or well. I choose to do both well if I can. Misplaced fear and a fixation on numbers isn't going to save me in the end. In fact, this stress increases susceptibility. How then shall I now live? That is the pivotal question.

One of the most painful aspects of my chronic illnesses has been the years of isolation. The pain and suffering brought me low, but it was the isolation of being cut off from the activity of “normal” life which brought me lower.

The fact that the primary means by which the government wants to heal us is to isolate us far beyond real necessity proves to me that this effort is not Christ-centered. We need each other. We need to be cared for, visited, touched, seen. Not via Zoom, but physically.

Those of you who have ventured a little beyond the “safe” zones know what I mean. The first time someone shakes your hand or opens their arms for a hug. The party you attend with trepidation only to realize that gathering with fearless people was the single most healing action you have experienced in months. The Mass you attended when most others stayed away… when you realized that there is no digital replacement for sitting in the Presence of Jesus Christ.

We claim to love the vulnerable and yet it is the vulnerable who are will always suffer the most when care is guided by "mother government" rather than the hands of Christ through family, friends, and neighbors. I was horrified months ago when my governor applauded the "heroic" actions of those who allowed their loved ones to die alone. I felt sick to my stomach that such a man is guiding public health.

There are certain actions which are inherently anti-Christian. Denying someone the presence of loved ones at the moment of death is not only cold, but wicked. And the bishops who denied the saving grace of the last sacraments? Well, that is an even deeper level of neglect.

If anything, COVID has UNmasked us. Our weaknesses have been revealed. Our lack of faith. Our lack of love. Our lack of courage. And that is GOOD news because we are being called to conversion. If death is coming to you via COVID, let it not be said that you died hoarding your life from others.

Do not let your loved ones stay isolated. Do not let them die alone. Do not let them suffer alone. Do not gaslight them into thinking that something is wrong with them for needing to see faces and live freely. We all have limits. None of this is normal. None of it is actually healing.

I know what it is like to be sick with a failing will. To ignore this risk factor is to ignore the "other" you are commanded to tend. You are not morally free to sit passively in the face of such suffering. It is not good enough to hide away or build a lifestyle around believing others to be “asymptomatic carriers.”

The fact that this is a highly survivable virus makes these transgressions against love even more alarming. But I would not change my opinion even with the threat of a more virulent strain. Our lives are meant to be spent in service. We are to be prudent and care for our bodies, but we are not to be hoarders and squanderers of health.

I have lived prudently and cautiously by necessity. I know the burden of physical vulnerability. And yet this COVID response is neither prudent nor cautious... it is reckless.

The "new normal" is deadly. Literally deadly. And also dangerous in the many ways that are worse than death. I reject it. You will never convince me by the numbers or by fear of death (for myself or others) that we can be healed long term by this insanity. You will never convince me that such a way of living will not harm the proper development of the young, who were made to be selfless, generous, heroic, and free.

True victory over COVID will not come by mask, by distance, by numbers, by regulation, or by health orders. It will only ever come with an acceptance of a radical call to Gospel service to others and an acceptance of the inevitability of physical death... and hope of new life in Christ.

There will always be another virus. There will always be death. How then shall we now live?

Race Day Recap! 2020 Rise Up & Run 5K

Race day for the Rise Up and Run 5k was amazing! You all are incredible and I’ve been reading messages, posts, and emails for two days as you finish your own races and share.⁣
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THANK YOU for stretching for this. For really understanding the mission and for giving of yourselves. And thanks be to God!
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This picture is my littlest guy showing off the medal he’s so proud of having earned. He covered his eye because it was bright... and sometimes you just don’t bother arguing with a 4-year old!⁣ His picture is first today because it was the children racing their hearts out that brought me the most unexpected joy. We gathered with a couple other families and the kids were amazing.⁣

Unafraid. So oblivious to adult worries. They were passionate yet light-hearted. They were determined yet not ashamed of taking a breather (or 10). And they approached the effort with all the serious joy of true innocence.⁣
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They asked me if we could do it again next year. And I thought “Why not?” and I immediately made a note to make kids shirts available next time... and to pray about hosting a bigger local event as well.⁣ Because next year won’t be 2020…

And maybe quarantine will just be a distant memory. We sure could use a large happy crowd with which to run and celebrate.⁣
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Seeing the kids happy and energized like they were before the “new normal” was healing for me. Liberating. Such a stark contrast to most everything else these days.⁣
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“Hey Mommy! I’m fast! I made it! I earned my medal.”⁣
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Yeah, you sure did, buddy. Well done.⁣
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The day after the race, we stopped at the gym to do a light workout and the TV’s were on, playing their perpetual mantra of fear and division.⁣ And I longed to be back with the children. Which reminded me to look forward toward heaven... to the only One who can restore the innocence of childhood to our battered souls.⁣
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Keeping my eye on the prize. Moving forward by the grace of God, one step at a time.⁣
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HEALING FRUITS

2 years ago, I couldn’t sit outside in the sunshine for 30 minutes.
3 years ago, I couldn’t drive a car for 30 minutes.
7 years ago, I was told my running days were over.

And on race day? I ran 3.1 miles in 27.45 minutes. Outside in the sunshine.

There was a long stretch of years where each was successively more painful. To reconcile with that disappointing reality, I convinced myself that adulthood must just get more painful until you die, begging the good Lord to open the gates of heaven.

I wondered whether maybe someday, in this world, it might be possible to find room to breathe again. Just for a minute or two. And then I gave up hope... Almost.

This photo was taken of us in the middle of pain but also somewhere on the necessary road to victory! Which is why it brings back a strong feeling of happiness (instead of that nausea and pain that I was actually feeling at the time.) That is where the Rise Up and Run mission becomes critical. For what reason do we run? What is the point of effort? Why would we head straight into pain if we can avoid it?

I don’t have to write it down. It’s written in my very bones. God has allowed me to suffer and heal by turns. And even when I cannot see the sunshine, I will trust and praise.

We ran on a track because the rubber was easier on old joints than concrete. And so our kids could play in the field without leaving our sight. We ran with a small but mighty group of family, friends, and a priest. We ran staggered but together. Chasing down our private goals and victories while facing obstacles, known and unknown to others.

Besides the fleeting presence of pain (ah! the paradox of running!), JOY most clearly defined the day.

I didn’t know what I would find on the track. Every experience in life is different and we can’t command consolations. But yes, it was good in God’s time. In a surprising twist... this most difficult year has also brought me to a place of unprecedented healing. I do not understand God’s timing. But I will let Him be God. And rejoice in His victory in my life. May it be eternal.

My husband ran by my side and set my pace. Just as he’s been doing for 24 years of marriage.⁣⁣ I told him I couldn’t find a rhythm. That every step hurt. I told him I felt like I was going to die and this was our actual race conversation:⁣⁣
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Me: I’m going to die.⁣⁣
Him: You are not. Don’t stop.⁣⁣
Me: You don’t know. Dying. Dead wife.⁣⁣
Him: You can die later. Now you run!⁣⁣
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And when we crossed the finish line, he told me I’d reached my goal time. I did it with my two feet, but I wouldn’t have done it on my own.⁣⁣
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And this is how it has always gone. And it is a beautiful gift.⁣⁣
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The Rise Up and Run 5k happened because my good husband heard my crazy plan and said “Do it.” Just like he heard my book outline and said “Write it.”⁣ Just like the birth of every child when he looked me in the eyes and said “You can do this.”⁣
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He doesn’t like running at all, but he led the way. And just like he always does, carried me (through illness, victories, sufferings, joys) as though I was light as a feather.⁣⁣ One day, I imagine our final eternal victory together. And you saying...⁣⁣
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“See? We made it. I told you it would be okay. Just focus on the Prize and take one more step. The pain only lasts for a time. And then you’re home.”⁣⁣
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Thank you, Jesus. ❤️ We’re heading Your way.

See you next year, friends!

Light a Holy Fire for Easter: A Saint Patrick Response to Quarantined Liturgy

As my family makes preparations to celebrate Easter at home during quarantine, my thoughts inevitably turn to the Paschal Fire. For 24 years, we have made the late night trek to church to see that fire set ablaze and to participate in the Easter Vigil Mass. This year is strange. And I’m floundering a bit.

I made a little Paschal candle for our domestic church. It’s not much but it’s pretty, symbolic, and at least reminiscent of liturgy. I also bought a few beeswax tapers off the internet that my family can light from that larger candle.

I’m not sure how it will all go. But my husband and I agree that there should be fire. Christ, Light of the World, show us Your glory and lead us to salvation.

My thoughts turn to practical matters like how we should light our home Paschal candle. Matches, of course. I’ll get those ready. But wait… Why not build our own Paschal Fire? Let’s light it from a Paschal Fire.

The churches have been closed. The sacraments withheld. The worship of Christians has been suppressed by fear. That fear, ironically is the fear of death. The same death which is defeated on Easter morning and for all eternity through the saving power of Jesus Christ.

My heart quickens as I think of the darkness and Easter. Watching the Paschal candle lighted by Father outside of the church. The smell of the smoke and the beeswax. The light of the Paschal Fire reflecting on the alter boys, on the priests and deacons, and on the people gathered. I don’t need more convincing…

I want a fire.

That thought nags at me through the day and I locate our rusty fire pit, usually reserved for burning autumn debris…

That will do. That will certainly do.

I imagine the fire on Holy Saturday night and know that the flames will make an impression on the children. On me. This is different. This is not Mass…but it is holy.

Then, I remember St. Patrick and the glorious Paschal Fire which he set ablaze on a hill in direct defiance of the Druidic High King. It was the night that the pagans would light their own fire to honor their sun god, and it was from this fire that all other fires would be lit around Ireland.

This pagan festival fell on the feast of Easter and Patrick built a huge bonfire which could be seen for many miles around…

A beacon of defiance. A symbol of hope. An act of worship. The annihilation of fear.

Ireland was awash with paganism and the worship of God suppressed. It was unlawful to light that fire. It was inflammatory. It was public. The punishment was death and yet Saint Patrick lit the Easter fire boldly…

On a hill.
In the midst of a pagan feast.
In celebration of the King of Heaven and the victory of Easter.
In holy defiance of the enemies of God.

The lighting of that fire wasn’t liturgical…but it was holy. And when the Druid king sent his solders to put out the fire and kill Patrick, they were unable to extinguish it. It was a fire that would not die. And neither did Patrick. Not that day. Because it was the beginning of the transformation of Ireland to the heart of Jesus Christ.

It was a bold act of unreserved worship. And I want that.

I am determined to light that fire. So that it shines through the darkness and shows my children that even when the land is covered with the darkness of fear, and the full expression of faith is suppressed by those who have power over our religious freedom…

We are still free. That is the point of Easter.

I imagine Paschal fires lighted across the world. In neighborhoods and on the country hills, in celebration of the the victory of Easter and…in defiance of the darkness.

I hope you light one. Safely, of course. Whether it is in your barbecue pit, a bonfire in your field, or simply a candle held against the darkness…

I hope you light one.

Let the world see your light. Let God see your light. Let it be a sign of our steadfast faith in the God whose fire cannot be extinguished. We are an Easter people. Let our praise shine like fire from our homes! Let the world see that the Light of Christ will not be extinguished.

Let others know. And share your fires on social media. Let His light shine!

And next year, may we all find ourselves shivering in the night air outside our parish churches, watching the flickering of the Paschal Fire in a new way. Never again forgetting the night we lit our own in hopeful defiance against the darkness.

This is our make-do DIY Paschal candle this year. It isn’t liturgical but it will do. Acrylic craft paint on a white pillar from a local store. The base coat took a lot of layers and patience since the candle was slippery. Good enough is good enough. God be praised.

The desolation of hope, the failure of Christians, and why I trust you anyway

The constant flood of negativity and fear surrounding COVID-19 has reached devastating proportions. Typically, Americans struggle well together, courageously united against a common enemy or disaster (WWII, 911, and Katrina come to mind ). The marked division of the COVID crisis has a uniquely negative quality, becoming more sharply defined as fear increases.

The reason is obvious: the enemy is not outside of us. The enemy is us.

We are trying to band together and doing so successfully in many ways, but progress is complicated by the underlying fear that the enemy is invisible except for the faces of friends. We will throw ourselves into a burning building or flood waters to rescue strangers, but disease is a different psychological beast.

The protective action of quarantine is passive. There is an intentional withholding and isolation; intended for good, but not without negative consequences when taken to an unhealthy (unholy) degree. This isolation, combined with constant fear mongering from our digital connections, inevitably grows into a reluctance to take risks, a growing suspicion of neighbors, and nurtured, distinct, and pervasive fear of others.

Many seem almost compulsively driven to spread that fear. This inclination is certainly easier to cultivate than the virtue of hope. And I can understand the impassioned desire to keep people safe during a time of uncertainty. For example: Wash your hands. Stay Home. Great message…within reason, of course. Don’t wash your hands compulsively and do go out if you ought. But in general, it is good advice.

But after weeks of the same driving message, accompanied by intense shaming, blaming, anger, and panic…I became confused by anxious intensity. Confused not only by the decline in civility and compassion but also the absence of the typical buoyancy of the human spirit.

My social media feed is carefully cultivated to include people of faith who communicate truth, beauty, and hope to my mind. I also love a good rousing discussion/debate with people who ultimately know how to reign it in and give it to God. However, during this crisis, many otherwise reasonable people changed. The most surprising discovery has been that the message of fear from Christians matched the secular response step for step.

Any deviance from a sustained and fierce level of corona-fear has been shouted down. Virtual caution tape has been placed around commenters who share a word of hope. They are isolated with fierce accusations. The bitterness of the words used strikes me as alarmingly close to hatred.

I didn’t initially understand why. But, I think I understand now. It makes sense…

People are afraid that if they allow hope to flourish, their neighbors will stop taking precautions, the contagion will spread, and everyone will die. They believe (on some level) that encouraging hope will cause relaxed vigilance in safety measures.

In short, they are afraid of the stupidity and carelessness of their neighbors, family, and friends. They don’t trust you. They don’t trust me. They know the human condition and have been hurt by it. The weapon of fear, whether used consciously (hello politicians and CNN) or subconsciously, is ultimately about control. Unmitigated fear breeds spectacular levels of selfishness.

They know you’ll screw it up and that terrifies them.
They aren’t wholly wrong…but let’s get back to that later.

BITTER OLD WOMEN

This fear-based approach reminds me of the ubiquitous bitter old woman who feels the need to constantly take younger women down a peg. If you’ve been a younger mom, you likely know the type. She is filled with regret and pain from a life of hurt. She is depressed. She is angry. She is emotionally and physically isolated. She feels a moral certainty that young women will suffer as she has suffered and she wants to warn them.

And so she does…

“Four kids, eh? Ha. You’re in for it!”
“Don’t you know what causes that, young man! You leave your wife alone in the bedroom!”
”Get a job, honey. Don’t depend on anyone!”
”Having so many kids is selfish! Stop thinking with your hormones.”

Aside from being rude, the fundamental problem with this approach is that it accomplishes nothing but to feed bitterness and fear in the already fearful, and to rob the free of their peace of mind. This is different from offering advice and information from a place of kindness and a position of friendship…

It is much more like trying to teach children while screaming in their faces.

The invariable outcome is some measure of injury, traumatic response, or fear. Fear harms the body, makes one more vulnerable to illness by suppressing immune function, initiates instincts of survival and promotes dangerous forms of selfishness (ie hoarding, looting, withdrawing from the needy, sinful anger, neglect of others). When this panic is widespread among a populace, bad things happen.

CONTROL AND FEAR

The bitter old woman cannot make a pregnant woman un-pregnant. She cannot prevent her from suffering. Her self-centered words of warning serve only to introduce sorrow and fear to a woman who has a right to peace of mind and joy in new life. The older woman isn’t really concerned about the well-being of others. Her bitter words are the complaint of her own heart…the result of many private tears that seem to bear no fruit and offer no consolation.

For those who fear illness and plague and actively suppress the hope of others, the effect is similar. It is a useless but damaging way to control undesirable behavior. An expression of their own fear projected onto those who are seen (consciously or subconsciously) as obstacles to peace and security.

“Stay home, healthy people! Or you will kill someone! Like me! You will ruin my life, my family, everything that makes me happy.”

Last I checked, there were millions of essential workers, single parents, and sole family providers who must leave the house to work. And thank God they do. There are also millions more who must eat, must seek medical care, breathe fresh air, must relieve depression, and who suffer from disability and deadly isolation.

These people are not killers.

To shame them is like shaming the pregnant woman for being pregnant or for daring to think that the future might contain beautiful things; for knowing that she will love her child regardless of what the doctor said about odds of disability; for believing life might not be as bad as people say; for smiling when other people cannot.

I have seen many articles of hope shared on the internet in recent days. Expert opinions showing the possibility that the spread of disease has been miscalculated and that the numbers moving forward are more positive than expected. That maybe we have already reached peak in certain cities. That hospitals are prepared. That there have been some discrepancies in reported numbers from other countries. Possibilities, not certainties. But still possible.

People read and feel relief. Their bodies relax. They start to heal, and sleep seems possible again.

To take that hope “down a peg” is not only cruel, it is dangerous and immoral. We die without hope. We shrivel. We become selfish and angry. We do rash things. We embrace deadly chains. And still, the fear of even professed Christians manifests…

Tone down your hope. Tone it down! It’s not true. It’s dangerous. You’ll give people the idea that maybe things aren’t as bad as they are. They’ll go out to parties. They won’t wash their hands. And we’ll all die. We’ll all get sick and die. Your hope must not be allowed to rise…because it conflicts with my need to control my life and my fear.

THE CHRISTIAN FAIL

More alarming than the persistent fear-mongering is that it is prominent among Christians. And ironically, it is peaking during the holy season of Lent when we are supposed to be immersed in the TRUTH. The Truth that we all die. And that Easter comes, the realization of all hope.

This time of crisis, fear, and suffering is what Christians have been preparing for. We are made for this moment! It is the moment when the world is gripped with terror over this thing called DEATH and for which we hold the key.

This is where we step into the arena and say with confidence:

O death, where is thy victory?
O death, where is thy sting?

The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. (1 Corinthians 15:55-57)

We should be preaching this from every platform we have, radiant with joy and hope. This is our time. This is the open door. This is our neighbors nailed to their crosses of fear begging for hope, and it is the moment of grace in which we have the very answer they need…

The ONLY answer.

This is our Mother Teresa moment. We set aside our fear of death and maggots and we pick up the suffering (literally or virtually) on the street and bring them home to live or die. She was exposed constantly to disease and yet she continued to touch people. Physically. Because she knew…

Isolation of body, mind, and soul are deadly.

She did not leave the dying alone to die. And if she were alive now, she would not. She would hold them and bathe them and give them to God.

To some, she might say “Stay home!” But never would she suppress hope by suggesting that there was anything which death could steal from us. Never would she neglect the soul over care for the body.

Fr. Jacque Philippe writes that “If hope is extinguished, love grows cold. A world without hope soon becomes a world without love…God does not give according to our merits, but according to our hope.”

We will not only be held accountable for how we have nurtured hope in our own lives, but in how we have supported it — or destroyed it — in others.

Pouring anger and shame onto their situation is like badgering the pregnant woman. Pestering the grieving. Tormenting the fearful. Inciting panic among those who cannot sleep as a result of anxiety. Buying all the toilet paper to prep for the zombie apocalypse while shaming others for leaving home to provide for their own basic needs. Screaming about death and ignoring the ones who are dying in hopeless and terrified isolation.

Is this the same community which has previously poured out support for the countless people we know suffering from anxiety and depression? It cannot be. Is this how we serve each other? It is appalling and inconsistent.

THE ESSENTIAL MESSAGE OF HOPE:
YOU WILL DIE. YOU WILL LIVE.

Social media is filled with aimless and angry grieving over this unknown variable known as COVID-19. But compassion for those grieving other losses is often suppressed:

Those who have lost income, housing, companionship, sacraments, major life events, health care, exercise, ability to come home, right to vote, education, access to sick loved ones, community resources, etc. are not allowed to grieve publicly..s

Because it is too close to permission; permission to seek an alternative other than complete control over human behavior.

When pressed, a Christian will always concede that Jesus is the answer to the question of fear and disease. But it is the daily words and actions which give the impression of something different…

Hold on, Jesus. We’ll get back to you in a couple months. We have to save the world. Oh, you did that already? Well, kind of. I mean you did…but not like this. We have to stop COVID. That’s different. You understand, of course. We know you’ll understand. This is a special circumstance. We are all going to die, Lord, if we don’t do something. What? Oh, of course…we are all going to die anyway. But this is different. This is different.

As if we can walk into the valley of the shadow of death without Christ and live.

Much of my work as a writer is dedicated to the subject of bodily healing. I spend significant time and effort teaching Christians about the obligation to care for this physical gift, the only vehicle through which we are able to serve others. I find it ironic that those who ignore the message of health during normal times are panicking about the potential loss now. And I will have more to say about that in the near future.

I know both the value of good health and also the experience of its loss. I fight daily against the affects of disease. This ever present reality helps me to recall that there is no more essential element to spiritual, physical, and mental health than HOPE. And I’m done with the deadly voices of fear. They put all of us at greater risk, especially the most physically, mentally, and spiritually vulnerable among us.

RETURN TO HOPE

It is Lent, friends. Repent and receive the Gospel. This is our time. And, as hard as it is sometimes to say…I TRUST YOU.

I trust you to be responsible with hope.
I trust you with hope.
I trust you.

I trust you to stay informed.
I trust you to take reasonable precautions.
I trust you to leave home if you need to.
I trust you to drive next to me on the highway with a ton of metal filled with explosive fuel.
I trust you to prepare my food,
teach my children,
operate on my flesh,
keep the bridges from falling down,
keep the lions in cages,
and keep my car running.

Trust is essential to living in community. If we do not, at some point, lay down this belief that we can stay insulated from the decisions of others (good or bad), we will die alone and in fear, killing the hope (and flesh) of others with our angry bitterness.

I trust you to make good decisions. I also accept the fact that you (and I) will screw it up. But…

That’s life.
And still…I choose to trust you.

More than that, we must trust God. There is no fear worthy of a Christian other than the fear of separation from Christ. He is hope. He is life.

We must stay informed and be prudent, careful and discerning. We can be alarmed and frighted, alert and grieving, angry, spirited, active, engaged…But at no time can we actively suppress hope in others without tragic consequences. We will be held accountable.

This virus will run its course. People will die. The overwhelming majority will live to die another day. And hopefully, we will eventually recall that life is not fundamentally about control over our manner of death .

I AM NOT AFRAID.
I am not afraid of death.
Jesus has conquered and reigns.

If that sounds trite and dismissive to you, then perhaps you have lost your fervor and need to return to the Gospel. It is Lent after all. It is time.

Later tonight, I will lay down in the silence and grapple again with my fears. I will face them one by one until I can’t get any further in my imagination than death. And around 3am or so, I’ll drop off to sleep having given it all to Jesus. Desperate to survive the fear, I will be forced to remember that He is my only HOPE.

In the morning, I will rise again, hopeful but tired. And if I get on social media, I’ll see all the fear again. And if I turn on the news, I’ll see fear. I’ll hear the networks almost giddy with their scripts of fear. My governor will resume talking: Be afraid. It is coming. It is big and bad and it is coming.

And I just can’t sustain that level of panic. I have no other option but to trust you. And to trust God.

I’ve reconciled with COVID-19. I believe that we are creative enough, intelligent enough, respectful enough to live freely with this thing and to live with the reality of death. We will do it with prudence and love. With human contact and sacrament. Without unholy panic…to enkindle holy fire in the world.

It is the perfect time in our lives and in history to become a living testimony to the hope of Jesus Christ. I am eager for Easter (so eager) and hope for the transformation of fear into Joy. I’m praying for the reunion of community and of souls whose vision is unobscured by terror of death.

Repent and believe in the Gospel!
Come, Lord Jesus. Help transform us in Thy grace.

Why I am no longer a Catholic feminist

Disclaimer: (Because I clearly must.)

Dear Sisters…

This post is not about you, it’s about me. It’s not about your friend (or podcaster/author/artist) who calls herself a Catholic feminist. It’s about the public positions I have taken in the past and need to correct. It is about that article I wrote about why I identified as a “Catholic feminist”…and why I have changed my mind.

It is not your humiliation. It is mine. I write publicly and occasionally influence people. And in justice, I need to make a correction. If you think what I write is stupid and harmful, then write your own experience or just don’t share. But be mindful to respectfully address ideas instead of people.

We are not automatons. We should be free to discuss and grapple with these ideas within community without having our feelings perpetually hurt by varying opinions. Peace.

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I LEFT FEMINISM FOR CHRIST…

I was raised into feminist activism and eagerly stepped into the label. I repeated the anthems of the movement and embraced its heroes. I adored the moderns like Sanger, Steinem, Daly, and generations of women who beat an angry drum against patriarchy, injustice, inequality, and moral boundaries.⁣
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I believed the rhetoric and I was angry. Fed up. Righteous. Perpetually ready for battle.⁣
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When I was forced to attend Mass in Catholic high school, I would stare defiantly at the man called "priest" and change the words of all prayers of humility...

" I AM worthy to receive...you stupid old man."⁣

The message and pounding fierceness of the feminist movement impacted the way I saw all people. It placed my own sense of offense and self-preservation at the center of my universe, successfully interfering with my acceptance of the fatherhood of God.

I was 15-years old and the youngest person in an auditorium of hundreds when I saw notorious feminist, Gloria Steinem, speak. She spoke passionately about feminism and “glass ceilings” to a full house of cheering middle-aged women in business suits. I didn’t fit in even then…but I always figured I could do feminism better than the old ladies.

And yet that angry and united cry of feminism is how I learned about who I was and how I was to view others. From the mouths and pens of prominent feminists to my young mind and soul, the message of feminism permeated my formation. It was inevitable that, in my anger and distorted view of personal dignity, I would also develop a hatred of self, particularly when even feminism failed to protect me from the various injustices and abuses of a largely post-Christian culture. And sometimes, when its proponents were the ones inflicting the wounds.

I won’t get into a discussion of the origins of feminism here. It is irrelevant to my point. The culture has shifted and much damage has been done. And we must face the present devastation, not quibble over beginnings which were never rooted in a Christian worldview even if they were a response to true injustice. If we are going to fight for a restoration, let it not to be to elevate human ideals but to bring Christ the Healer into the center of the wound.

I will always stand with feminists when they fight against true injustice. But feminism invariably goes further in its demands and is inherently spiritual in its elevation of self and overshadowing (or suppressing) of other. Ultimately, there are no other gods and no other persons. And “injustice” is a flexible term which shifts depending on the agenda of the feminist. There is no foundational belief in the dignity of all people.

The unity is a sham. A political ruse. Which often ends in brokenness and frankly, abortion.

I saw first hand the impact of feminism on the Church, well before I loved the Church. I witnessed the anger against the “outdated patriarchy” and saw women working actively within the Church for change. Feminists demanded greater participation for women and took it at every opportunity while simultaneously engaging in pagan ritual, promotion of abortion, and a rejection of a masculine God. This was feminist narcissism at its most deceptive and destructive:

“I don’t really believe what you believe…but I will dedicate my life to pretending to so that I can make you into my own image. Or destroy you.”

If you aren’t familiar with the history of deliberate damage done by feminists in the Church, you will benefit from reading the books Ungodly Rage and The Anti-Mary Exposed. The devastating effect of feminism on the Church is not exaggerated. The reality is shocking.

Feminists have made St. Therese the patron of women priests, Mary Magdalene the erotic lover of Jesus, St Hildegard into a sorceress, and elevated abortion into a sacrament. Feminism has no place in the Church…but it is what I believed and followed.

TRANSFORMATION
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Then in my young adulthood, the Holy Spirit flooded my life like a tsunami. I was helpless against the breathtaking power of Truth and joy. For the first time, I understood the true magnificence of my womanhood and rejoiced at a new shocking freedom and illumination. My feminist mask was revealed for what it was...a sham, a reflection of the spirit of anti-Christ. Empty, distorted, angry, self-worshipping, and suffering bitterly without purpose.

Deeply broken by the circumstances of life and my own bad choices, I was pieced back together by the love of a man (my future husband), who led me straight to the Source of all healing. With my feminist mask shattered, I was able to open myself up to the fatherhood of God and the person of Jesus Christ. My angry fists relaxed and I learned to pray on my knees without a spirit of defiance or unholy fear.

The process of conversion has been a long and slow turning. But reading Pope John Paul II’s "Mulieris Dignitatem" (On the Dignity and Vocation of Women) was a milestone which inspired me to release the last hold that feminism had on my mind and allowed healing and restoration to begin.
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"I am woman, hear me roar" became "To serve is to reign" and my heart fell into a deep well of joy, grace, and peace. My feminism was transformed into "feminine genius" and my angry battle cry into a shower of grateful tears.⁣

Feminism is not just a political identity. It isn’t just a concise way of saying “I care about women and oppose injustice.” It is a spiritual movement of the enemy of God. This is what I did not understand when I embraced it again as a Catholic. (More on that shortly.)

I remain an activist of sorts. I weep and lose sleep over injustice. But I continually strive to place that at the foot of the cross instead of at the altar of my own passions. I have been made new in Christ and I take to heart the words of JPII: “One must arrange one’s life so that everything praises God.” It is too easy to let anger supplant the Gospel. The fight against social evil must be accompanied by an equally vigorous battle against self.

FREEDOM

Femininity is God’s creativity uniquely expressed through woman. Feminism is a political movement. Femininity expresses womanly attributes rooted in natural law. Feminism is a set of demands rooted in a malleable and relative vision of justice. Femininity is freedom to fully pursue the vocation of womanhood in the service of others. Feminism encourages women to fear generous self-donation.
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As I became more Gospel-focused, my femininity became apolitical…

Transcending activism.
Outlasting culture battles.
Silencing identity politics masquerading as social justice.⁣
Softening an ungodly spirit of rage and discontent.
⁣
I was free. And I abandoned the term "feminism" completely for 18 years.

A RETURN TO FEMINISM

In spite of my reticence to be associated in any way with the terminology of feminism, the words of good women convinced me that a new feminism (one that revealed the light of Humane Vitae) was consistent with my Christian understanding of womanhood.

I saw it as a possible antidote and a legitimate expression of the heart of femininity. It wasn’t that I thought the Gospel was deficient but I found that, practically speaking, the Church as a community was failing to teach women the beauty of God’s design for their vocations and bodies. (I still find that many Catholic communities remain ignorant of these things.)

I was reluctant because I saw that the terminology would be misunderstood by almost everyone and that it could lead to a false association with secular feminism. That possibility was horrible to me but the vision of an integrated, holistic, natural, Christ-centered activism was incredibly compelling.

I thought that I could be a part of that even though I knew that it would have to be on the level of individual conversion instead of a mass movement. I had been in the ocean of feminism and knew that it could not be displaced through dialogue or clever marketing. This “new feminism” would have to light a fire from within souls and minds, one person at a time; not with the realistic goal of overtaking the culture but with loving others the Gospel way. The slow way.

When JPII called for a “new feminism,” I never misunderstood him to be calling for a literal movement of Catholic feminists. He was calling for a renewal, an antidote, a return to the heart of the Gospel. He used the term “new feminism” in the much broader context of a Catholic vision of womanhood. He wasn’t supplanting the Gospel but illuminating it and using the term “new feminism” (once) to highlight that this was to be an antidote to a specific and harmful ideology.

I wrote publicly: “I knew that I would always be a feminist insofar as it means that I decry injustice against women and all human beings and promote a culture of life-giving love…and here I am. A New Feminist. Because I believe that women do need a strong voice, a political voice, an activist voice — to defend our inherent right to holistic, life-giving choices in all stages of life.”

He didn’t tell us to start a new club within the Church. He didn’t elevate feminism. He told us to open our eyes to the Truth which was already given to us.

So I embraced the vision of new feminism but remained hesitant about the label “feminist.” To be completely transparent, I used it quite liberally for a time, primarily when talking to secular feminists, because I felt it gave us common ground. I thought it gave me some street cred and authority. If I called myself a “feminist,” they couldn’t just write me off as some sappy Christian.

But the full truth is that many secular feminists were turned off by what they saw as a misapplication of the term. It was mostly only the Catholics who thought it was cool. And on reflection, I see that it was more effective to find common ground without the term, speaking directly with love and sincerity.

I started out saying things like…

“Well, I’m a feminist, too! And I defend the rights of ALL women regardless of age, location, health, or wantedness.”

But I found that this provoked other women to become defensive and to see me as a traitor to feminism. The terminology was a greater obstacle to their openness than leaving it behind because they were preoccupied with what they saw as an attack on their own identity. It would be similar to how a Christian would react if someone argued against the Resurrection while identifying as a Christian. We would not only reject their argument but also their label.

I found much better opportunity for dialogue by saying:

“I applaud your commitment to defending the rights of women! We share that passion. Let’s talk about the rights of ALL women, regardless of age, location, health, or wantedness.”

Eventually, I left the term “feminist” out of the discussion completely because it gave an impression I didn’t want it to give. It took too much time to explain the points of departure. It also caused others to easily lump me into a political group (including a variety of social issues) with which I didn’t necessarily agree.

So I simplified: I love all women and I oppose injustice.

LEAVING FEMINISM AGAIN

So I again left the term “feminism” behind. But not before I wrote an article in 2015 defending “Catholic feminism” and using the term publicly many times. I received much positive feedback from that article and this post is, in large part, a public correction of my own story. I am not afraid of being wrong and of changing, although it certainly can be a blow to the old ego. But…
⁣
I'm setting feminism down again.

I no longer believe that our culture can handle two competing feminisms. It’s possible, I suppose. In a perfect world. But if we lived in a perfect world, we certainly wouldn’t need feminism in any form.

The real battle is between the anti-Christian spirit of feminism and the Gospel. We cannot fight feminism if we unite to it. And it must be opposed.

The problem with having two forms of feminism is that they tend to melt and bleed into one another, complicating and confusing young and old alike with an agenda which depletes freedom. If we adopt the label, we become part of the whole movement in some way.⁣ It isn’t optional. Most people in the secular movement are not interested in nor capable of nuance. They have put themselves on autopilot for a cause and will not be deterred.

But it doesn’t really mean liberation for all. It just bands people together under an amorphous sense of justice which usually includes the killing of unborn and elevating self above others. Some feminists oppose porn and some promote it. They want protection for women but many will not oppose the horrific abuses of Islam or men taking over women’s sports. There isn’t really a unity in anything except a drum beat of defiance and anger. Sometimes it protects. Sometimes it destroys. But it only ever stands for itself.

This reality was recently illustrated perfectly in the image of a Hollywood celebrity boasting of her abortion in front of millions of people…while also pregnant with an unborn child. It is a diabolical spirit which infects us with rage, fear, and hatred. Directed at both self and others. She is clearly a victim of a demonic culture which perpetuates violence against women and children…and she is also an abuser. It is the diabolical cycle of feminism.

With Christian feminists whose passion for the dignity of all people is rightly ordered, the message of the Gospel is invariably diluted, not through intention, but by association and emphasis. I applaud the work of pro-life feminists who are engaged like warriors in the arena…but I also see how they struggle to stay rooted in their own faith, some publicly leaving Christ entirely.

They have underestimated the danger of the battle.

I used to think it might work to water down the sometimes shocking clarity of the Gospel in order to meet people where they are at. Then I actually read Scripture. There is no social justice movement more radical than the Gospel. If we water it down, it ceases to be Christian.

I briefly wrote for an organization which promoted a “new feminism” and I believed in the mission. I still have a picture of myself wearing a New Feminism t-shirt on my private Instagram page. I was all in with their truly beautiful vision. But eventually, I was told to stop including my faith in my writing. We parted ways (because I’m a little old and busy for that kind of silliness) and I had more free time to reflect. Eventually, I knew…

The message of the Gospel is sufficient. How does reducing the Gospel and highlighting feminism ever advance the healing of humanity? We can be nuanced, considerate, patient, sensitive, and prudent in our expression of faith…but we can not place it second and retain it or truly witness to Truth.

The Gospel is sufficient. And it encompasses the whole truth about who we are as individuals and how we are to be valued by others. There is no straighter path to a transformed culture. Hiding it or disguising it only confuses and delays the illumination of truth and authentic freedom. Feminism inevitably challenges us to compromise. But not in a righteous way. And I am noticing an increasing tendency among younger Catholic feminists to buy into the anger and identity politics.

Some are quite young and I know they didn’t live through the more direct assault of the post-conciliar feminism. The angry nuns were already mostly gone from their schools. The Chittisters and Schenks and Nuns on the Bus were probably not part of their adult Catholic experience in a way they understood.

When I recently saw a book by Joan Chittister on the Instagram page of a Catholic influencer (who markets herself as a spiritual teacher), I knew that it was time to speak up. Feminist spirituality is experiencing a new heyday and the generational gap of ignorance needs to be addressed.

FEMINISM CANNOT BE THE ANSWER

I’m writing now to correct my own public error. To sound a warning that this collective movement of Catholic feminism often reflects the secular in its tone, associations, and bitterness. Women are following influencers whose idea of feminism does not fully reflect the spirit of JPII but departs into a vision of defiant agenda. It’s a creeping thing but it is happening. Like an infection…some people in the body are well enough because their immune system is strong and supported, but others are being overtaken.

The ones recently who have left the Church formally and who are on the verge of leaving? All feminists. Some have left Christ entirely. Most remain in the Church, working subversively like their forebears to change the direction, not only of abuses, but also of the truth. They want their own vision of Church.

Disclaimer #2: I am not attacking individuals. I am attacking a false ideology. I am sounding an alarm so that people of good faith do not slip down a path they do not actually desire to follow. If you can retain the label of “feminist” without falling to the pitfalls of the ideology, I do not oppose you.

I don’t buy that feminism is somehow kinder, gentler, more compassionate, more welcoming, more understanding, more freeing, more compatible, more relatable than the truth of Jesus Christ. If you think those things are true, then you are either doing the Gospel wrong or have had it modeled poorly for you.

Feminism is only a political movement because of sin. Because mankind refused to live according to Christian principles and with a radical commitment to others in service and love. It was a practical response to injustice and frankly, I understand the roots. I get angry at injustice. Sometimes passionately angry. I recognize the deeply imbedded and harmful cultural patterns which impact women in the world and in the institutional Church. I am horrified at the abuse tolerated by our culture. And more deeply horrified at the SILENCE of a suffering Church in the hands of abusive and self-serving clerics.

However, feminism is not the answer, even when it wears a Catholic label.
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I don't want to be any kind of feminist anymore. It confuses people. I see the kind of damage it is doing to otherwise faithful Catholic women. It sows ingratitude. It whispers that we need something more than Christ. It promises an economic and political solution to a sin problem. It tickles the ear with Marxist ideas disguised as spiritual ponderings and barely conceals its hatred of humanity.

But I know who I am...⁣
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I am a woman. Made in the Imago Dei. Living the Gospel mandate to serve God and others. I am a Catholic. I try to live an integrated life in which I absolutely bring my faith to the public square and raise my voice against injustice. I will stand against that sin with my sisters who take the feminist label. But I will not again wear the label myself.

When someone thinks of me, I want them to think that I am a servant of Jesus Christ and His Church. Without competing descriptors or adjectives. And that is also how I wish to meet the Lord.

In Christ alone. I am free. I am content. Thanks be to God. ⁣

Final disclaimer: This is my story, not yours. If you think this is about you, you’re wrong. But if you want to take the ideas and struggle with them and apply them and come to your own conclusions with intelligence, openness and vigor? Have at it. That sounds like authentic Catholic womanhood to me.

How Boycotting Can Change the World

Every once in a while, a company makes a choice so egregious that it causes Christians to voice their objection and call for a public boycott. It makes sense: Stop funding evil!  But some on the Christian internet oppose boycotting, citing various arguments against charity and efficacy. I have read the objections each time and remain unconvinced.

Even if there is little chance for small boycotts to alter practices of big business, there is only good that can come of following through with the promptings of informed conscience and withholding funds from evil. We live in a (first) world of options. No one is going to starve if they put down the soda (or whatever). We can incorporate those small acts into our prayerful fasting. Without judging the choices of others, we can still change the world by changing our habits and cultivating a greater focus on little things that build and support a culture of life. 

Boycotting is not necessarily a solution. It is, quite simply, a protest.

It says, "Hey, if you're going to send money to help people murder unborn children, I'm not going to buy a candy bar from you. I'm not going to advertise your name on my sleeve. I'm not going to vacation at your resort. Until you stop."

While I don't think that abstaining from a general boycott is necessarily immoral, I'd like to take a look at a few ways that boycotts can (and do) change the culture and the soul...

1) CATHOLIC SOCIAL JUSTICE DEMANDS BOYCOTTS

In solidarity with the marginalized, oppressed, abused, murdered, voiceless, helpless, poor, lonely, hungry, and wounded…it is just that we should stop funding their oppressors if possible. It is also just to take a public stand against these aggressors. It is, in fact, our Gospel mandate to conform our lives to the service of others. We may not always be able to affect cultural change, but the following points explain how a boycott can change practices and souls…

2) BOYCOTTS CAN WORK

I didn't say they always work, I said they can work. Just like the people of the United States of America can rise up and end the depravity of abortion but haven't done it. We have consistently passed over that opportunity for at least 50 years... but we could have done it. We just chose not to. We choose not to. To stay silent when we ought to speak. To waste money when we should be using it purposefully. To hold on to it when we should be giving it...

Our money, time, talent, voices... not our own. It all belongs to the Lord and it is to Him that is should be returned. In a free market first world nation, we can make it work. And perhaps we are obligated to try.

3) BOYCOTTS DO WORK

It is easy to make a boycott work. And it is difficult to make a boycott work. The reason both are true is because we live in a free market system in which the consumer ultimately dictates the rules. If we sometimes feel that it is the industry which drives the consumer - it is only because we have given away our control in the service of our pleasures.

Can one person have an impact on a gigantic corporation? Yes. But it is a matter of percentages. And the history of American boycotts tells us that when organizations see their bottom line affected, they usually respond.

The difficulty with holding a boycott in contemporary America is that the cultural impetus has shifted against Christian principles. So most consumer values are not going to reflect yours and mine. In order to cut into a company's bottom line, we have to work together. Can it be done? Absolutely. 

Check out the Life Decisions International web site for more information on why and how to boycott... and examples of how it can and does work. Fight Planned Parenthood

N.B. When considering a boycott, please make sure you do the following:

• Check updated boycott lists. Companies do pay attention and will often respond to public outcry, ending their contributions. 

• Determine whether the contributions are being made personally (i.e. CEO) or by the corporation. And then determine whether this makes a difference in your decision to boycott the company. 

4) BOYCOTTING AS FASTING

Let's say, for the sake of argument, that there's no way a boycott of Disney (for example) will impact the way they give to Planned Parenthood. This is a great example, by the way, because Christians have been boycotting Disney for at least 20 years, and frankly, Disney doesn't seem to care. We haven't been loud enough... because we like Disney. We aren't willing to forgo the latest princess movie to make a statement. We want our Mickey Mouse vacation. So we know that Disney has not been impacted by boycotts. But that doesn't mean that the Church and individual hearts have been unchanged by the act of boycotting.

When we forgo earthly pleasures for a higher purpose (prayer, witness, generosity, sacrifice), we participate in a form of fasting. Nobody cares when I keep my kids home from the latest Disney flick. Disney certainly doesn't care. But I'm making a quiet choice based on an informed conscience and my love for Christ and His people. Your fasting will not look exactly like mine but ideally, the cultural fasting of Christians should start to become more uniform. For Christians, boycotting is not primarily about punishing others... but about being good stewards and bringing our spending into line with our principles.

Why do we fast? We fast in order to strengthen our will. To offer a sacrifice in prayer to the Lord. To identify our attachments and root them out. We fast to clarify our love and to simplify our distractions in pursuit of greater love. So when we take up a boycott list, we hold a list of great potential...

How can I simplify my consumption for a purpose? How can I pursue a greater love?

5) DISCIPLINING OUR APPETITES 

Boycotting for most of us means forgoing our privilege and our preference, not really giving up something of substance. We are a wealthy nation with an abundance of options. It may occasionally be a challenge to find a suitable replacement for the item/s that we are boycotting, but it's almost always a non-essential. Reviewing the current Planned Parenthood supporter list, we'll find many things that we know we can do without...

expensive specialty coffee
soda pop
theme park vacation
movies
restaurants
software
banks
snack bar
name brand clothing
colleges
hotels
alcohol
airlines
credit cards
television stations
supermarkets
dance studios

There is a large percentage of the world that is struggling to provide the basics for their families. That doesn't mean that we should not enjoy our material blessings but we must not lose perspective. We often inappropriately elevate luxury items to need status. And we don't have to live that way.

Is it impossible to live in American culture and boycott all services and goods that support evil? For most of us, it probably is. I am not suggesting that we can do that, only that it would benefit our culture and our souls to choose to do without at least some of them.

6) CONFORMING OUR HABITS TO CHRIST

When I boycott, it is generally a private decision to withhold money from an organization that directly funds or promotes evil. I rarely publicize that choice. I am inconsistent but those small decisions make a difference; if not in the larger corporate context, at least in the development of my own conscience.

It’s not about being perfect, but of being aware, and learning to place our purchasing decisions at the feet of the Cross. Imperfectly, perhaps, but still worth it.

It is similar to periodic fasting. If I want a soda and have the opportunity to buy one when no one else is around to see me do it, I can offer up that sacrifice for the victims of abortion. At the same time, I also withhold my measly buck from the company that made the soda.

The world doesn't care about those little sacrifices but I imagine that Jesus does if they are offered with pure intentions and a spirit of reparation. One can of soda pop isn't going to change the way the company does business. Even if you added up all the cans of pop you've ever purchased, it still won't make a dent. But... it can change you...

And that is how culture's change... one person at a time.

I'm not going to have that soda today. I'm going to make a small sacrifice and offer it up for the unborn babies and mothers who are desperate enough to consider abortion. Maybe I'll have a water and an apple instead and break my unhealthy habit while I'm at it. And then... maybe I'll drop a quick email to the company and let them know what I did. 

That's what boycotts look like. They change us before they change the culture. Instead of remaining a "boycott," it becomes a pattern of awareness in our lives wherein we practice dying to our preferences, our desires, and our unhealthy habits. 

7) BOYCOTTING IS NOT ABOUT EVANGELIZATION

Boycotting is not primarily about evangelization but about effecting cultural change. We evangelize the people within the organizations, but we boycott to change policy, customer service, product line-up, etc. by voting with the dollars that we spend or withhold. Evangelizing a CEO by representing Christ with charity and virtue is one thing. But sometimes, we just pray for his soul while we do what we need to do to STOP HIS COMPANY FROM FUNDING THE MURDER OF CHILDREN.

It has been said that pro-life boycotting is unjust because it attempts to take the livelihood away from another person, which is untrue. The intent is not to rob someone of their livelihood but to stop the funding of the horror of child murder. The hierarchy of values places the right to life above the right to make money. If that causes someone to lose income, then perhaps they will change their actions. And that is the point. 

Conversion is the slow work of faithful, plodding love. While we must do that necessary work of love (generally in the environment and context in which God places us), we must seek immediate protection for the unborn. Christians must have ZERO tolerance for abortion. Even if it makes people feel unhappy. Even if it makes them hate us. It's Christianity 101. 

8) YOU CAN'T DO IT ALL {But you CAN do a little}

Most people who undertake to boycott an entire list all at once quickly become overwhelmed. It seems like the same 5 companies own the whole world and a shopping trip can become incredibly complex. Can we boycott the whole list? Modern American culture makes that almost impossible but that doesn't mean we shouldn't boycott anything. 

Start small. If you only choose one company, service, or product to eliminate, it is one more thing than you were doing before. If you can drop a note to the company telling them what you did, even better. If you are still struggling with a feeling of helplessness — feeling that what you are doing doesn't make a difference, do this:

Try using the word "fasting" instead of "boycotting"... and it won't take you long to understand how one can of can of soda can change the culture and bring the light of Christ to the world.

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My Catholic Home birth {of Candlelight and Alleluias}

May 2016

My youngest child was born this week...

He was born in the quiet and dark of night with a blessed candle to light his way. His father was at my side praying him into the world. Baby Z briefly landed in the hands of his midwives before being placed in my arms where he has been ever since.

Before I begin our birth story, I want to briefly explain why we chose this unconventional route. The idea of a home birth makes many people uncomfortable, even upset, (including a few who are close to me) and the topic deserves a mention. But I'm going to mention it only to clarify, not to fuel an argument here or anywhere...

I believe that you should be able to choose the best birth for you and your baby, whatever that looks like. For us, in our particular set of circumstances, home birth was the safest and healthiest option available to us. Do I wish that all families could experience the birth we had this week? Oh yes... just like I would wish any beautiful and good experience on a family. But my birth story is not about you or your neighbor. It is simply a glimpse into a moment of joyful intimacy in our lives.

I will write more about our decision to give birth at home soon. For now, I invite you to enter into our dream. Oh, it was real enough... but somehow, it seems a bit other-worldly. Do I dare write it down and risk a sharpening of the memory past the happy haze? Yes, it's safe. And I'm ready to share my joy.

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DREAMING OF HOME

I have always been committed to having unmedicated labors and have been mostly able to achieve that in the last 20 years and 8 births (apart from one "necessary" nightmarish pitocin experience). My reasons for wanting to go "natural" are not complex. When I was 20-years old and pregnant with my first, I read about common labor medications and simply ruled them out. They all crossed the placenta and all reached the babies. They all brought a certain measure of risk to both mother and child in otherwise low-risk pregnancies. 

Maybe it was my youthful naivete. Or stubborness. Or fierce maternal instinct. But it made sense to me to accept the pain in order to better protect my child. And I simply never looked back. I credit youthful impetuousness, not any real courage of my own... and the subsequent knowledge that, yes, I can do this really hard thing. We went on to have 7 hospital births without pain medication and also one miscarriage at home at 13-weeks. 

In spite of my commitment to "natural" birth, I didn't start dreaming of a home birth in earnest until my 6th child was born. His was a 45-minute hurricane labor in which I barely made it into the delivery room.  In theory, 45-minutes sounds perfectly lovely. In reality, it was brutal. The stress level was extremely high, the pain difficult to manage, and the baby distressed. 

I didn't ever want to go through that again. Ever.

So the seed was planted... and the idea of peacefully, gently, quietly welcoming any additional babies into the world began to take root. We did our best to plan that kind of hospital birth for the birthday of baby number 7 and it was much better but still a far cry from the unfolding dream that I couldn't shake. I continued to research and imagine and learn about my body and God's design for birth...

And then we found out that we were expecting our 8th child.

PREGNANCY

My pregnancies are difficult and this one was no exception. The first few months were a complete blur of misery followed by remaining months of unconquerable fatigue and sickness. Every once in a while, I'd think about upcoming labor and tremble. I'm no fan of pain, especially labor pain. You might say it even terrifies me. And I was tired, sick, and lacking courage. The thought of the hospital scene kept rising up before me and one thing was absolutely clear to me...

I didn't want to step foot in a hospital to deliver this child if I didn't absolutely have to. 

The thought of the noisy, crowded, intervening medical scene filled me with anxiety. The very image reminded me of PAIN... and my mind would take refuge again in the dream of just staying home. The dream always went something like this...

Contractions would start or my water would break... and I would just... stay. In the quiet. In the dark. In my room. With my husband. And then our son would be born.

That was all.

And in the end, that really is what happened. 

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EARLY LABOR

I had been laboring for weeks just like my previous pregnancies. The textbooks call it "prodromal labor" but I just call it the World's Longest Labor. There are many "false" starts to active labor and many nights filled with contractions too strong to sleep through. 

The one advantage to this is that once active labor starts, babies are born within a couple hours. I deal with the uncertainty of timing by sticking close to home for many weeks. Waiting... waiting... waiting. Knowing this time that I didn't have to leave to go to the hospital or arrange for complicated child care was significant. My anxiety level didn't rise with contractions. My heart, mind, and body stayed rooted in place... rooted at home. 

On the afternoon of the 26th, I noticed a slight increase in the regularity of my contractions. I paid attention but not too much. After all, it was standard fare and might taper off. I did notice that I was crankier than usual and that I felt an urgency to get something done. Let's take the kids out for ice cream, I said. 

So we did. 

Contractions were coming irregularly (typical) at about one every 15 - 40 minutes, but I noticed that they were getting a little sharper when they did come. Duly noted, Body. You've faked me out more times than I can count but I'm paying attention for the moment. 

10:00 pm

We arrived home from ice cream.

11:30 pm

After waiting for our oldest to get home from work, we said late family prayers. I was feeling a little serious at that point but the rest of the family didn't seem to be on the same page. I felt very restless and irritable. 

This is probably it, I thought.

I suddenly felt much more earnest about getting the kids into bed. Unfortunately, my desire and my toddler clashed and she didn't fall asleep until night passed into morning. By that time, I knew we were going to have a baby. Soon.

12:30 am
ACTIVE LABOR

It was around that time that we called the midwives. 

The doula was the first to arrive and my husband directed her downstairs to wait. I don't remember telling him that I wanted to be alone but I suppose we must have talked about it enough. Whatever the case, he knew what to do and I continued my labor in the quiet and dark of my room.

Quiet and dark and cool. It was the labor scenario of my dreams. There isn't a whole lot of room to wander in our tiny bedroom but it was enough. I rested on the bed in front of the fan and then shuffled back and forth, the affirmations I had been looking at for at least a month running through my head... and the music of my pre-labor playlist coming back to my mind in little bits and pieces.

As labor intensified, most of those mental words fell away until I was left with only a few. I didn't choose them consciously... they just seemed to be the ones I needed most.

Open.
Come down, Baby.
Sweet Jesus, carry me.
Sing low.

Free printable birth affirmations - click here

I began to sing to myself when the waves of the contractions crested. I never would have done that in the hospital and probably not in front of the midwives either. But alone, I sang. The words were from the chorus of a Chris Rice song...

And my soul wells up...
And my soul wells up...
And my soul wells up in an alleluia...

As the wave would rise, I would imagine the pain rising up to Jesus - the one prayer I could give in the moment - and an effective way to surrender to the intensity and then give it away. The pain didn't disappear but it was manageable. It was purposeful. And I never panicked.

I sang an octave lower than usual so that my jaw would stay loose since a loose jaw means a relaxed pelvic floor. My plan had been to hum or "sing" low (sort of like a cow mooing, to be honest), but the actual singing was working beautifully.

So I danced and sang in the quiet and the dark.

In the hospital, I have never been able to rise from a side lying position. I lay down, close my eyes, and wait for babies to be born. It is the way that I cope with the pain in what I find to be a highly stressful environment. The moment I open my eyes and see a nurse or a monitor is the moment I start to panic. At home it was different. I found relief in the standing. I saw our wedding picture faintly in the dark. I watched the fan. I danced and sang and there was no one to judge or to shush me. No intrusions.

1:10 am (approximately)

The midwives arrived and stayed downstairs with my daughter and husband. I would need him soon but not yet. And he seemed to just know. A midwife entered my room to briefly check on the baby. I stayed standing while she listened to his heartbeat which was strong even through a tough contraction. She left as quietly as she came.

1:25 am

My water broke gently during a contraction and I knew that I would need the Chief with me. I felt the baby drop and and recognized that feeling... It wouldn't be long now. A midwife asked my husband to make sure the fluid was clear. It was. 

My husband didn't leave my side after that point and as I leaned into his arms and rocked, I couldn't help but think that we were dancing our son into the world. 

And he prayed. He prayed Hail Mary's and he prayed for protection. He prayed when I couldn't and when I did call out to Jesus, he joined in with me and it was, in many ways, like singing in one voice to God. The meaning of our marriage vows in those moments of suffering love was illuminated... I'm not sure I can put words to that kind of intimacy and joy.

(I don't recall the picture above being taken. It must have been close to birth since that is when others entered the room. It is blurry and dark and barely visible and that is the way I prefer it. This was not a moment for the world but a moment of intense privacy and loving focus. But my daughter loves this picture and encouraged me to share. And I think it shows well how that one blessed candle was sufficient for the moment.) 

TRANSITION

In the meantime, the midwives waited downstairs. As the baby came closer to birth, my sounds began to change. I knew that, being good midwives, they would hear and know when to come. I laughed to myself a little at the time... thinking about my groanings as a birthy way of communicating with the women downstairs. Like bird calls or something. And they were listening and moving; first downstairs, then up to the kitchen, then to the base of the stairs leading to my room.

I felt those panicky feelings that come with transition. I wanted to squeal but instead I focused on dropping my voice low and thinking only of the baby. There was no way around this moment. It is always a rather terrible moment when control slips away and is wholly replaced by a need to surrender to pain... but it was almost over. 

The difference between my earlier births and later births is that the pain took over every part of me, even my mind. Like a white hot blanket. In my more recent births, I have learned how to pay attention a bit more and to work with my body instead of raging against it.Still gotta go through it... but that shift in mindset makes all the difference.

As we moved through transition, I got on my hands and knees on the bed. The Chief stayed by my side, supporting, and I felt the baby descend. I have only ever pushed while on my back or on my side at the hospital but made a conscious decision to change that at home. Laying down was how I coped in the hospital but I didn't just want to cope... I wanted to thrive. The books all said that standing, squatting, or hands and knees were better and faster and less painful. And I wanted to spend as little time in transition as possible.

The books were right, I think. Everything opened quickly but gently. 
"He's coming."
And suddenly, the midwives were there...
quietly, steadily, as my baby crowned.

1:52
BIRTH

His head was delivered with one push and his body followed right after. And just like I had dreamed, he was born in the relative silence and darkness of the night, with only those there who belonged. They handed him to me immediately, and our family was changed again forever.

It had been approximately 2-3 hours since I first "knew" that it was birth day. It was the quick labor and birth that I knew I would have. It was the gentle and joyful birth that I knew I could have. Thank God it was over. Thank God he was here. Thank God for the peace, for the quiet, for the joy, for the birthday.

RECOVERY

After they gave the baby to me, I held him while we waited for the cord to stop pulsing and he received all the blood that rightfully belonged to him. I held him and nursed him while we waited for the placenta. No one pulled or tugged to make it go faster. There was no excess bleeding. No tearing. And we rested.

The midwives retired downstairs to give us time to be alone and bond before they came in to check on the baby again. I was helped to the bathroom to clean up a little while the bed was quickly changed. I returned to a fresh resting place and the baby was finally weighed and admired. He was quiet and calm through it all.

After waiting to check different milestones of recovery, the midwives finally went home and the Chief and my daughter continued with a little chatting, baby admiring, and a couple minor points of clean up.

5:30 am

The Chief finally went downstairs to eat his "dinner" and my girl went to bed. I prepared myself for what I knew would be a long night of after pains... consoled by the presence of the sweetest baby on planet earth... as the sun rose in the sky and the birds took over the songs of our night of joy.

THE MORNING

Everyone slept in that morning and the children straggled from their beds one at a time over a period of hours. I will never forget each awed face as it passed our door and realized that there was a tiny human being resting next to mommy. 

All the children except for three had slept soundly through the miracles of the night. My oldest daughter wouldn't have missed it for the world. And my two oldest boys lay awake, hearing the sounds of our little community and of birth. If they minded, they didn't say. But one of them did pay attention and marked the time of his little brother's arrival by his clock. I can't help but think that such a memory (even though only through sounds) will have significance in their lives. They will know...

Birth is important.
Birth is natural and God-designed.
Birth is beautiful.
Birth is God's gift to the family.
Birth is a time to celebrate even while we carry the cross.
Birth... looks a lot like real Christian love. 

I called this post my "Catholic" homebirth not because other births aren't, but to draw attention to the great potential for intentional Christ-centered birth. That is going to mean different things for each family and in different seasons. With some of my births, I have surrendered to a spirit of fear instead of surrendered to love. Always "Catholic" but not always welcoming Christ wholly. And indeed, I am humbled that it has taken me so many births to become so intentional... and that is has been so strongly motivated by my aversion to pain. But I know He has been leading me and that the blessing is not fundamentally about the human victory but about the grace of the journey. This journey has always been and will always be wholly about His generous grace. 

In past births, we have also felt that same grace...

A baby lost.
Back labor... and a fractured tailbone.
Birth in a power outage.
Preemie NICU baby.
Water labor.
Pitocin.
Labor with lights and sirens.
Shoulder dystocia.
9 births. 8 living children. 
So many miracles, struggles, details...

Just grace. So much grace. 

I give thanks to God for the opportunity to experience birth in such a beautiful, natural, and empowering way. Like every single labor and birth, it has transformed me. I have been permanently changed. We prepared for this but the imagination cannot anticipate how God will bless when the time comes. And I am filled with gratitude for the gift of my femininity and the creative, merciful sovereignty of Almighty God. 

ONE WEEK LATER...

I am marveling at the relative peace of the household and the easy recovery of my body. The baby is calm and happy and healthy and I am healing faster than I ever have. The midwives have been back to see us multiple times. The toddler is adjusting. I am wishing that I had more arms and legs with which to do things but... I am awfully glad not to be toting a baby belly.

Would I do another home birth? Yes. Absolutely. 

Broken Catholic: My Healing Journey Through Institutional Crisis

I once went roller skating with my children and came home with a concussion. Middle age clearly hadn’t improved my ability to stay upright on a set of wheels! And when my head hit that concrete wall, life changed.

I had experienced minor head injuries in the past but this one was different. The pain, fatigue, and confusion were intense and lasted for many weeks. I lost memory and my ability to imagine the future or visualize. Simple tasks were overwhelming.

Sometimes I would wake at night not knowing where I was. I couldn’t place the room or the house, the direction I was facing…nothing. And so I would lie still in the dark, trying not to panic while I waited for my mind to connect my identity with my surroundings.

I knew who I was. I just didn’t understand how I fit in with everything else. Once I was driving again, I had the humbling experience of getting lost in my own neighborhood.

Lost in my own neighborhood, my own home, my own mind.

I have since healed but I was reminded recently of the ordeal as I stood in the middle of my kitchen processing the news of the Amazonian Synod. My head ached a little at the site of my concussion even after the passage of so much time. And I felt a familiar sinking and panicky feeling of disconnectedness…

Of knowing that I am alive and standing in a kitchen, but disconnected from what is most important to me.

“Breathe. Call on Jesus. And wait.”

That had been my formula for navigating every wave of panic during my head injury recovery. What is real? I am real. I can feel myself breathing and the floor under my feet. And Jesus is real. If all else passes away — if I never recover my mind or my context — He is real. And He reigns.

Come, Lord Jesus.

My mini crisis of finding my context within the Church faded and passed and I went about my day, reminded to breathe the name of Jesus Christ into each moment. I had been in this same place of faith crisis before and had resolved my fears in His heart. Or rather, He had drawn me in and healed me. Because of that, I knew that it would be okay. It would be more than okay.

I had been here before…

A few years ago, I hit my figurative head hard on the stone cold truth of corruption in the Church and sank deeply into the depths of loss and fear. It wasn’t just one event but several devastating blows inflicted by multiple trusted priests, an institutional failure to protect people I loved, discovering shocking corruption at the highest levels of the Church, and having my eyes opened even further to the true depth of evil present in so many areas of the Body of Christ.

It seemed that nothing was untouched by evil. The worst kinds of evil.

Well before the McCarrick scandal shook the Church, I was on my knees begging God to restore my connection with the institution. He let me fall deeply into darkness and doubt and strike my head repeatedly on the crisis of decay.

I longed for the straight-forward Jesus that my Protestant friends seemed to know and I grappled with truth, with grief, with the weakness of others, and with my own failures. I experienced an aversion to the institution. I wanted to leave. I wanted to run. I was grief-stricken and angry.

Every day as I struggled to pray, I took apart my faith and laid the nuts and bolts out to examine them. And each time I did that, I found that the Truth and Person of Jesus Christ remained. And because He remained, the Eucharist also remained…and I could not leave Him. But for a while, it was painful…

“Breathe. Call on Jesus. And wait.”

I knew that the healing of my broken heart would have to come from Christ alone and I begged Him for that consolation. I would not leave Him or His Church and yet I shuddered at the thought of a lifetime of such pain of disconnectedness and doubt.

My anger and grief were a significant stumbling block to my interior and exterior action as a Catholic. As my anger grew, I looked more deeply into my own confusion…

I had to reconcile the mess of the Church and my anger with the promises of Our Lord.

I was a wounded daughter seeking to understand the actions of an abusive “parent” - the human face of the Church - and what I found brought me clarity and kept me focused on and confident in a loving and faithful God. Instead of being submerged in the narcissistic guilt-trip inflicted by abusive prelates, I began to distinguish the voice of Christ from the wicked who took on His robe but not His heart.

I write all this down (sloppy and raw as it is) so that some might be consoled and lifted. I see many leaving the Church and also many trying to reconcile their doubt by following dissident paths within the Church. Feminism is experiencing a revival within the sanctuary of Catholic homes and parishes as women try to find their identity in a culture of abusive prelates.

There is also a slipping into the occult, into leftist social justice activism, evidence of our desire to make the Church into something that doesn’t cause pain. Something that we can control. Something that looks like some measure of order and peace. It is a creeping temptation…a way of self-pacifying…

“The Church has failed me. It is not enough. So I must make it enough. More than this embarrassing mess. Oh yes, I’m a Catholic…but not that kind, you understand. Not the embarrassing deficient kind. I’m different.”

Not every label is bad, but at our final judgement, we won’t get to keep any of those modifiers. We will be stripped of all our preferred labels, ministries, and projects and stand naked to the soul before the Person of Christ. And on earth, we will not find our peace and healing in an identity that is less than the Gospel and the fullness of the Deposit of Faith; that core of Truth which sits squarely and undiluted in the heart of the Catholic Church.

My healing came only when I looked directly at that truth and also at the pervasive corruption which has infiltrated almost every diocese, order, and structure within the institution. And it came only when I called it out and named it as the spirit of the anti-Christ.

Throughout Salvation History, that spirit of evil has walked alongside the work of the Holy Spirit. We are shocked and scandalized to see it clinging to our Church. Why? Because we have forgotten our history. We have forgotten the Scriptures…

We have forgotten that Christ let his enemy so close that it nailed Him to a tree.

Enough. Let’s look at it. And then let’s cast it out. Again and again. As many times as it comes back into our homes and parishes and even Rome…let us rise against it in righteous anger (and deeper joy), declaring the victory for Christ.

The spirit of the diabolical will not have my soul.
It will not have my children.
It will not have my husband.
It will not have my community.
It will not have my parish.
Not my priests.
Not my country.
Not my Church.

Not on my watch. Not while I have the audacity to unite myself to the living God whose bloodied image hangs in my home. If I accept the Gospel, I accept ALL of it. Including the part that says love came down and was tortured and murdered.

As I researched the corruption, my eyes were opened and, while I was horrified, I also received a great measure of confidence and peace. My prior grief was rooted in the confusing and erroneous suspicion that somehow evil had infiltrated Christ Himself. It had not. It is an enemy that can only lie and throw stones and pound nails. It cannot overtake Christ. It cannot stop Easter. And I see that the downfall of so many Catholics is that in our attempt to reconcile our faith with evil in clerical robes, we excuse that evil, ignore it, cover it, or change the story and language. We think it is healing balm but it is only a bandaid, covering the horrible truth.

In order to avoid a complete personal and communal loss of faith, we must learn how to identify what is bad and separate it from what is good. There are many faithless priests. There are many Catholics who also do not believe. Not only is it “okay” to demand that these distinctions be made, but we are obligated by the Gospel and compelled by our love of Christ to do so.

By the time the McCarrick scandal hit, I was prepared for the blow and I was not shaken in faith. I knew that he was a troubled priest and I knew that the men close to him were similarly troubled. I had faced it head on and wept and raged. I didn’t know all…but I knew enough.

Many in the Church at the time were talking about leaving Christ because of Judas. Because they were hurt. And shocked. Just like I had been hurt and shocked in the years before. But sometimes we fall or leave because we have set up our own Catholic identity as a little idol…and the edifice starts to crumble. Embarrassing. Uncomfortable. Frightening.

We are terrified that our commitment to the institution will prove us to be fools and abusers. So we defend the indefensible in order to protect our identity. We also defend out of a great desire to love, respect, and honor others whom we are bound to love.

My time of doubt and darkness lasted about two years and I did not know if it would end. I begged the Lord for healing and He answered my prayer but He also waited. He allowed me to suffer that spiritual injury and loss of connection. He stood silent (but active) while I grappled with the darkness of evil in mankind and myself. And then all at once, He lifted the heaviest part of that burden.

For those who might mistake this article as some kind of personal boast, I assure you that it is not. My suffering was not (is not) well done. Not poetic. Not admirable in any way. If it had been public, it would have scandalized many. If you knew my failings even now, you would not follow me. My only boast is that, through the grace of Jesus Christ, I begged Him not to let me go…

And He didn’t. He doesn’t.

I stood in the middle of darkness and confusion and pain and stayed connected only by speaking the truth to God, myself, and others. My desperation and inability to see and move was as real as the traumatic physical damage of my concussion. And lasted much longer.

I do not know what the future brings for me or for the Church in the short term (although I do know how it all ends). But I will tell you one thing that I hope takes you to a place of grappling… and I hope you let Jesus raise you up…

The Church is filled with wolves and jackals. They are overcome by the spirit of the anti-Christ who has existed since the fall of Lucifer and over whom Christ has the eternal victory. But the days of evil are numbered. And even if it inhabits every holy office of Rome, it sits there as an imposter.

What do we do when bad men sit in positions of power in the Church? Stand fast. We are not leaving. If they keep the robes of Christ but deny Him with their teachings, then they have placed themselves and many others in eternal peril.

But let it not be us…

Stand fast.
Do not lose hope.
Cling to Christ.

The Church is not a nation. It cannot be overthrown. Even if it has to live in the catacombs of our homes and hearts while corrupt men grow fat on the goodness of the faithful…

Stand fast. Breathe. Call on Jesus. Wait.

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Photo by Andrew Neel on Unsplash

Celebrating the Feast of St. Hildegard of Bingen: September 17

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There are many ideas for celebrating the life of St. Hildegard of Bingen in this post. Her feast is on September 17th but I encourage not to worry about “missing” the date if you’d like to celebrate…simply choose a day in the month when something works for your family. Feasts are for living, not for box-checking! Let’s enjoy. Saint Hildegard, ora pro nobis!

But first, it is important to clear up some misinformation about this dynamic woman of God to avoid being misled by enemies of the Church…

For the majority of my Catholic life, I intentionally avoided St. Hildegard. I had come to associate her with the many New Age practitioners, wiccans, and dissident Catholic nuns who like to claim her as their own. I had lived in that sphere and I didn’t want to go back.

She doesn’t belong to them, of course, and she never ascribed to their heretical and spiritually deviant ways. But because her writings are not as accessible as other saints and her ways a bit uncommon, they have been more easily co-opted and distorted by people with an agenda.

I once brought a St. Hildegard peg doll to a peg doll exchange. One astute woman there asked me why I had chosen Hildegard…and I knew why she was asking. Because generally, it’s not the faithful Catholic women who bring Hildegard to the party.

I assured her that I wasn’t in line with the dissidents and their fiction…

Those distortions are bunk and should be thrown away like the garbage they are. Most of the information readily available in books and online is unreliable. Many translations are done by those with an agenda. Not every quote on the internet is hers. Not every quote that is hers is properly translated. Not every work is interpreted with her faithful Catholic vision. Her letters should be read with caution since some have been proven to be false. In fact, I give you warning ahead of time if you go looking, you will find a lot of false information and should be extremely discerning of what you choose.

So why did I bring Hildegard to the party?

Hildegard was a deep ocean, full of life and fire, music, wildcraft, salves, painting, visions, poetry, theology, and prayer. She was an Abbess, an artist, a preacher, mystic, healer, composer, polymath, and Doctor of the Church. She loved the earth and saw that “God has arranged all things in the world in consideration of everything else.” She challenged the corruption in the Church around her and raised her voice against it while demanding fidelity from her shepherds. She was not tame…

But she was obedient. To the Church and to Christ. If you see information which varies from that…you will know it isn’t true. She did cause her convent to be placed under interdict but it was ultimately lifted when she was found to have been falsely treated by the bishop. The feminists love to use this as a weapon against patriarchy and proof of her defiance, but the opposite is true…

She obeyed the interdict but also fought to have it removed. She loved the Church and the priesthood even when she was treated unjustly. She served truth.

She was NOT an ecofeminist, a proponent of “global humanism,” a witch, an earth-worshipper, a gnostic or a goddess.

She was, in fact a contemplative cloistered nun living under the Rule of St. Benedict which she loved. Within the Catholic faith, there is room for a creative fire like Hildegard. And the silence and prayer which formed her for many decades, became the school in which her soul burned with passion and flourished with productivity.

To listen to the voices of dissent in the Church who want to remake her into their own, you’d think she was as defiant against orthodoxy as they. If you present them with the facts so prevalent in her writings, they will dismiss those facts by saying that she was a product of her times and didn’t fully realize her own enslavement.

How disrespectful. How dull. How wrong.

She once preached to an Archbishop saying: “The tower is assigned to you. Protect the tower and cause the whole city not to be ruined and destroyed. So watch out, keep the discipline with an iron scepter and educate yourself. Grease the wounds of those who have entrusted themselves to you.”

She was hardly the dissenting radical she has been portrayed to be. But she was radical in her own way. Aren’t all mystics? All saints?

She was made for her time and for ours. She raised her voice passionately against the clerical abuses of power and money and perversion. She did not give bad leaders permission to follow their own path into sexual or spiritual confusion…she spoke vehemently, exhorting religious men and women alike to return to purity, grace, and zeal for the Lord.

Quite the opposite of of a progressive modernist, she fought vehemently for a return to truth and fidelity to the faith.

And frankly, she does come across as a bit unusual.

She embraced the natural world, recognizing God’s Presence in every cell of creation. She expressed that passionately, in a way that modernity often finds uncomfortable. But if only the hearts within the Body of Christ would burn with such passion! We would see that God has neglected nothing in His care for us. And perhaps we would sing like Hildegard.

In celebration of her life and with a fervent prayer for the renewal of the Church, I put together a list of ways we can celebrate with our families. Let us rejoice with St. Hildegard, Doctor of the Church and handmaid of Christ.

Let’s celebrate!

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IDEAS FOR CELEBRATING THE FEAST DAY

First, look up the beautiful compositions of St. Hildegard and flood your home with her music. Learn more about her life HERE. Then consider one or more of the following…

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HILDEGARD’S COOKIES

“Take some nutmeg and an equal weight of cinnamon and a bit of cloves, and pulverize them. Then make small cakes with this and fine whole wheat flour and water. Eat them often. It will calm all bitterness of the heart and mind, open your hear and impaired senses, and make your mind cheerful.” (Physica, Hildegard von Bingen)

Obviously this loose recipe quoted above leaves the modern reader with a bit of room for interpretation! Many of the adapted recipes on the internet add sugar and butter to balance the bitterness (and appeal to tastes formed by Oreos). When I made them, I did not…but I added honey to stay closer to the original purpose of bodily health. I also replaced the wheat (or spelt) with almond flour, which Hildegard wrote would give strength. (Both wheat and spelt have gluten which won’t fly with a healing celiac.)

The cracker/cookie was still somewhat bland but I like that it does indeed promote good health through the beneficial chemistry of the spices and nourishing ingredients. And definitely doesn’t trigger a cascade of sweet cravings! Interestingly, it comes remarkably close to the first “sweets” I was able to eat when first beginning my healing journey.

You can try your hand at adapting your own recipe from Hildegard’s instructions or go for a more dessert-like cookie like this one HERE. I also found this recipe HERE to be much closer to Hildegard’s original (plus brown sugar) but you have to convert the grams (I know, Americans, this is tough…but at least we have online converters now!).

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HILDEGARD PRINTABLE

Print this St. Hildegard quote and draw, color, paint, or paper piece images of God’s creation:
ST. HILDEGARD QUOTE PRINTABLES

And please tag me on Instagram if you would like to post your finished piece! I would love to see them all. Here are some that my family made…

NATURE HIKE

Go for a hike and collect and identify plants, rocks, scat, anything (I don’t mean that you should collect the scat unless you really want to…we won’t be doing that. lol) There are so many fun (and free) nature journals for the kids to take along. And great books (like these Fun With Nature guides) which are really helpful for helping to identifying and record findings.

GATHER AND DECORATE WITH HERBS

Gather a bunch of fresh herbs to decorate the table then use them in your meal. Hildegard studied the earth and it’s plants and elements, giving glory to God for his abundant treasures and their beneficial properties.

Display dried blessed herbs from the Feast of the Assumption if you had them blessed. Or find local sources to dry, display, and use. (See our Assumption herbs below)

MAKE ELDERBERRY SYRUP

Hildegard used the gifts of God’s creation to make healing food and remedies. Make a batch of elderberry syrup to prepare for the sniffle season. September is the perfect time! Freeze using a silicon form for individual servings or just use an ice cube tray. Then store in freezer bags.

I adapt this basic recipe (which is delicious, by the way!), adding additional essential oils, herbs, or astralagus root depending on what I have on hand or the level of immune oomph I’m looking for.

PRAY

• Pray a Divine Mercy Chaplet for the priests, bishops, cardinals, and religious men and women who have lost their faith or are causing scandal. St. Hildegard received permission to leave her cloister later in life so that she could travel and preach repentance to the corrupt clerics of her time…and also to exhort others to fervent fidelity to Christ and His Church.

• Pray a Rosary in imitation of Hildegard’s deep love for Blessed Mother.

• Spend time in silent contemplation after reading Scripture. Do this outside if you can!

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STUDY

• Read the Apostolic Letter proclaiming St. Hildegard a Doctor of the Church (JPII 10/7/12)

• Look up the Rule of St. Benedict to see how St. Hildegard lived. Inexpensive book and kindle options HERE. I did not find a reliable translation at our public library but I did find free PDF’s online.

• As I mentioned, there are many translations and books about St. Hildegard of Bingen which are unreliable and tainted by agenda. But I was pleased to discover the recent publication of Hildegard’s Book of Divine Works (Liber divinorum operum). It is considered her magnum opus and is a meditation on a mystical experience of the Gospel of St. John. I wouldn’t call it light reading, but it does provide insight into a soul on fire for God and has inspired me to expand my eye for His goodness. I am no mystic and do not pretend to understand the sometimes unusual expression of her vision. Pretending to understand her fully would be false…but I can weakly imitate her fearlessness in prayer and the surrender of her vision to Christ.

PLAY

Let your little ones delight in this little St. Hildegard doll from Shining Light Dolls. Paint a peg doll. Have a woodland adventure. And follow me on Instagram this week and enter to win one of my hand painted peg dolls! Above all…delight in life and give thanks with your family for the goodness of creation, designed by God for His beloved children. He considered us in everything.

What Catholic Parents Need to Know Before a Son Enters Seminary

This is Part 2 of a series on solving the vocations crisis and preparing our sons to answer the call. It was written with parents in mind but may be helpful for all Catholics. Read Part 1 here: Solving the Vocations Crisis Crisis: Serviam

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When my son was 5-years old, he rushed into our room in the middle of the night and announced that God wanted him to be a priest.

How do you know?
Because he told me!

And we moved on with life, doing what we had always done, living a life centered around the liturgy, learning, playing, and living life fully together…knowing that the true test of vocation doesn’t generally come like a flash in the night but through a steady relationship with Christ.

His interest in the faith continued to grow alongside his athletic and academic interests. He loved to serve at the altar and studied about the liturgy during his free time (and also when he was supposed to be doing his Math). We homeschooled, which allowed more flexibility in allowing Thomistic and liturgical passions to grow, and his interest in life, the fairer sex, and the priesthood grew together in a natural progression to manhood.

Eventually, he decided to give the Church the “first fruits” of his discernment and take a step towards the priesthood. He attended several discernment events, one of which was a weekend at a college seminary. He enjoyed the weekend but decided he was not a good fit for the community.

The seminarians hosting him didn’t display much interest in the faith or liturgy outside of the fact that they were, in fact, in seminary. They wanted to play video games and talk about secular music and movies, and the one thing that was a driving passion in his life, the Catholic faith, seemed a taboo topic among young men who should have been most excited to engage. Some were openly irritated that he wanted to hear their thoughts about God.

He came home with the understanding that many young men (at that seminary anyway) were entering those doors as a blank page, with a sincere but vague idea that the priesthood was somehow just about bachelors helping people. They may make wonderful priests someday, but this is not an ideal scenario for a young man going into seminary—any seminary.

When a man enters the seminary doors, he walks onto a battlefield. He is giving his assent to be fitted with the future crown of martyrdom. Like the Apostles before Him. Like Christ.

Before entering, he should already be a man, with a healthy spiritual, mental, and physical formation. He must be open to learning while, at the same time, prepared for the possibility of having to navigate wrong teaching and complicated peer and formator relationships.

While God can work through any situation to bring about transformation and holiness, the reality is that American seminaries are not generally a green house for orthodoxy, where young shoots can grow under the loving hand of a St. Charles Borromeo and a community of holy, intelligent, and manly saints. Perhaps a great saint could run such an enclosed institution successfully without allowing a platform for abusers. However, St. Charles is gone and the seminary crisis in the United States is a horror story of institutionalized dysfunction that continues to be protected and perpetuated by corrupt and weak prelates ensconced in powerful positions.

In Dr. Alice von Hildebrand’s autobiography, she tells the story of one of her public college students, an angry and depressed young man who was raised in a devout Catholic family but lost his faith in seminary. He was accepted into the Maryknolls who “torpedoed his faith with their ‘new theology’ and modern Biblical scholarship.” He fell into despair and into a wild life. He eventually returned by the grace of God via von Hildebrand’s classes, but the story of his fall is not uncommon. And it doesn’t always end on a happy note.

Nestled solidly among the many good priests, a legion of bad ones have been placed in positions of power and have manipulated the system to perpetuate their corrupt ends. They are not in love with Christ. Some are liars and thieves. Some are abusers and violent criminals. Some are satanists. Some are mentally ill. Some are political and ideological activists who deliberately feast off the Church while working to destroy it. Some are simply badly formed and weak. And they have been in charge of forming, destroying, and confusing generation after generation... and putting up obstacles for the army of good men the Lord has raised up.

This is not new. This is the diabolical thread woven through Salvation History.

GAMING THE CATHOLIC SYSTEM

One of the most striking examples of how this happens is the Legionaries of Christ, whose perverse and narcissistic founder (Marciel Maciel) created the appearance of almost perfect institutional and personal piety while abusing so many and protecting other abusers.

He gamed the system and masterfully designed his own structure within the broader institution. He was so effective a manipulator that he fooled millions of Catholics, and even a saintly pope, and became one of the wealthiest, most powerful, and most damaging men of the modern Church. The ripple effect will touch generations of souls.

To varying degrees we see similar methods of manipulation employed within some major religious orders (both men and women) and diocesan seminaries. The evidence rolls out daily as we clean up the bloody mess created by people who don’t love Christ or His Church… or those who are simply ill-equipped to lead through the confusion. In certain religious and priestly communities, there has been a deliberate network of deviancy that perpetuates and feeds disordered desires. These men and women know how to appear pious enough (as Maciel did with alarming perfection) and how to repeatedly fool the faithful who are so quick to love and to trust.

It is not that Christ has left His Church but that evil has done what it always sets out to do. It is a liar, a thief, and a destroyer.

As a mom with several sons and a public Catholic platform, I am often asked where I would send my sons to seminary if they feel called. My current answer is:

I’m not sure. It’s complicated. Am I willing to give my sons in service to the Church? Absolutely. But I will not quickly hand an inexperienced young man over to a seminary that is marked by tepidity, confusion, sexual immorality, leftist ideology, or externally pious but narcissistic clericalism.

WHAT SHOULD A CATHOLIC PARENT DO?

It is difficult to be constantly immersed in bad news and it isn’t always the best use of our time, but we are living in a time of great sorrow and witnessing the collapse of an institutional house eaten through by the termites of the enemy.

We live in a time when one of the most powerful cardinals in the world—close to popes, an influencer of domestic and international policy on sex abuse, education, liturgy, politics, etc.—was discovered to be a vile and faithless pedophile fraud. McCarrick was surrounded by men who knew him and his lifestyle and who are still in positions of power in the Church.

These are not times for the tepid priest. It is a time for martyrs.

In the last few decades, the faithful have been able to live in the relative peace of ignorance, largely oblivious to the evil behind closed doors. If you think I’m extreme or negative, then you have either been protected from it or haven’t recognized it yet. But if you desire to help your sons be open to God’s call to the priestly vocation…

It’s time to wake up.

It is not within our power to fight the monster on our own. We must turn first build a foundation of personal holiness and raise our children to respond to the call of holiness (which I discussed in Part I). Then we must prepare for battle.

DEFINING THE BATTLE

I know a man who, after decades, finally approached his diocese about the horrific things that happened to him while at seminary. It took a lot of courage to name those in authority who knew what was happening, covered it up, and are still in respected positions today. For decades, men who knew that seminarians were being abused continued to be given responsibility over the formation of the priests of a diocese. Unconscionable.

His is only one story of many. The physical, mental, and spiritual damage to young men leaving or graduating from seminary is Catholicism’s special trail of tears.

The crisis isn’t over. It is actually escalating. The enraging truth is that the enemy has been identified and very little is being done. Not in local dioceses or religious orders. Not in Rome. For every one abuser or heretic removed from office, a dozen more remain in place, going unpunished or permitted to defy the disciplinary actions assigned to them.

In order for our sons to answer the call, they must become warriors before they ever approach a seminary door. Or they may become casualties against an enemy that does not love, does not believe, does not care about your son, and continues to shout with the enemies of Christ: Non Serviam! I will not serve.

TAKING ACTION AS THE PRIMARY EDUCATORS OF OUR CHILDREN

I obviously don’t have all the answers and this article is not definitive; rather, it is what I would tell parents who approach me with questions about seminary for their son. If you’re open to entering into this discussion, consider printing this out, praying over the ideas brought forth, talking about them, doing battle with them. You are certainly not bound to accept my perspective but what I am begging you to do for the sake of your sons and the Church, is to at least be willing to wrestle with it.

Our rosaries and the hours on our knees on behalf of our children may be enough in the end but then again, they may not. Prayer moves mountains but bad formation is not undone simply by a mother’s fervent desire. If we throw our kids into a den of hungry wolves and then pray a rosary for their safety?Then we shouldn’t be surprised to see their bodies and souls torn to shreds.

How can we prepare our sons to answer the call BEFORE they get to seminary? The following ideas and suggestions are a good place to start the conversation in your family and community. I explain each of them following the list below:

• Seminary is not a good place for the weak man

• Vocation formation should happen long before seminary

• Reconsider college seminary

• Teach your son to read well

• A strong prayer life is essential

• Serve at the altar and love the liturgy

• Teach your son to recognize grooming

• Stay close to your son

• Teach your son his civil rights

• Help him understand his canonical rights

• Enter the battle.

• RISE UP

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SEMINARY IS NOT A GOOD PLACE FOR THE WEAK MAN

The strength of a man’s character is not necessarily evident in his outward demeanor. A man may be quiet and studious with great humility but still have the lion-heart of a St. Thomas Aquinas. That is not weakness but gentle strength. The weakness I am talking about is the kind which predisposes a man to be dominated, bullied, or too easily led by others. A warrior can be magnanimous, open-minded, and deferential, but he must not be easily overcome by the strength of another.

If you know this about your son, then please know that the seminary system is full of predators and narcissists who will seek to dominate him. He will become a target by bad men even in a relatively good institution. With this weakness, his odds of leaving most seminaries without significant wounds are slim.

If your son has known addictions (from drugs to porn to video games), these should be addressed prior to entrance. Seminary is not a treatment center! Addictions will not disappear simply because they walk through the doors of a seminary.

We all have weakness in our characters, and having a submissive personality does not mean that a man cannot be a great saint or that he cannot grow to be a person of strength. This point is a practical one. Do not send a 120 pound athlete into an NFL football game … even if he has a compassionate heart and loves God. He will be crushed.

This weakness may simply be the natural immaturity of youth. Even a mature 18-year old will not be equipped as well for battle as someone who has a few more years of experience. The solution may be simply waiting longer before applying to seminary, to gain some healthy life experience and develop stronger interpersonal and physical skills. (See “Reconsidering College Seminary” below).

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VOCATION FORMATION SHOULD HAPPEN LONG BEFORE SEMINARY

Your sons should know what vocation means before they hit high school. The practice of holy discernment should be common well before seminary becomes an option. Enter into the liturgical rhythm of the Church year and model examples of faith in the workplace, at home, and among community.

Freely express the fire of your own love for Christ and make opportunities for ongoing formation as individuals and family. Make sure that there is silence built into each day. Teach him to pray. Teach him to serve. Teach him to read (more about that below). Provide him with exceptional role models in multiple vocations. And when you think he is mature enough, have discussions about clerical sexual abuse and homosexuality to help him wade through the increasingly porn-distorted culture.

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RECONSIDER COLLEGE SEMINARY

I used to think that college seminary was a good idea. I’ve changed my mind in light of the current challenges in our seminary culture. It seems to me now that a young man should be a little older before he has to face the specific challenges of a seminary system. Greater life experiences may help him to navigate potentially complicated relationships and situations. Greater maturity may help him to understand if he is being manipulated by authority or through his education.

Catholic moms are sometimes afraid that if we allow our sons to go out into the world, that the young men will lose their vocations. We know that a hundred pretty girls lie in wait for a good Catholic man to come along and that seminary hardly stands a chance! Or we might be worried that the spirit of the world will overtake his desire for holiness.

Do not be afraid. If God wants your son to be a priest, He will pursue him. And if your son is inclined to be swept along by the attractions of the secular world, he will also face those challenges in the priesthood.

It is not a greenhouse. It is a battlefield.

Greater maturity will not harm him and may protect him. Even some secular professionals are now encouraging parents to give their students a gap year or more to mature before facing the dangers of college. The same case can easily be made for seminary for similar reasons.

To reiterate, these are my current thoughts - just opinions - open to change as new information and individual discernment enter the equation. I am not pronouncing judgment on your sons who are in college seminary nor on you. My own son went to college seminary with my blessing. But I would do things differently now.

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TEACH YOUR SON TO READ

Teach him to read difficult material that includes great works of literature, history, philosophy, and the doctors of the Church. He should already have a grasp of Salvation History and the Scriptures. He should be familiar with the Catechism and the writings of the saints and the great encyclicals. His knowledge (and library) should include the documents of Vatican II and preceding councils, and he should have spent some hours familiarizing himself with St. Thomas’ Summa Theologica, the works of Chesterton, the spiritual writings of the saints, and have a solid grasp of the moral teachings of the Church. He should be encouraged as often as possible to refer to original sources and not simply to accept without question the opinions presented in popular textbooks and by modern Catholic authors.

I highly recommend having your teenage sons read Treasure in Clay: The Autobiography of Fulton J. Sheen to begin to see the through eyes of a holy and happy priest.

If he cannot do this, he will not be intellectually prepared to engage in the academic battle being waged in seminaries everywhere. In this cultural climate, he must be able to intellectually engage or he may be easily swept away by a persuasive and kind (or bullying) professor who has authority and respect within a closed diocesan or religious system. He will be an empty bucket into which his professors will be able to pour their ideas…for better or worse.

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A STRONG PRAYER LIFE IS ESSENTIAL

A strong prayer life should be established before going to seminary. It is the height of foolishness to expect to be strong without this element. As parents, we cannot control this in our children. They may be outwardly praying the rosary while inwardly thinking about football. We cannot know. It is not your responsibility to control his interior life and you cannot do it anyway. What is within our control is our own example of piety, creating a peaceful home environment conducive to prayer, opportunities for true silence, and frequent access to good spiritual leadership.

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ENCOURAGE SERVICE AT THE ALTAR AND LOVE OF THE LITURGY

A surprisingly large number of seminarians and priests have only very shallow knowledge about serving at the altar and liturgy in general. Depending on the seminary, liturgy is not always prioritized and may only make it into one semester of study. That limited study may be led by a professor who is ideologically driven to change the liturgy to reflect a distorted theological or moral perspective.

Encourage your boys to serve whenever possible and also study the liturgy on their own before seminary (I will try to put some helpful resources on this in the near future and link here). Encourage them to become at least somewhat familiar with the Latin as well as the English — it is, after all, part of their heritage and will help them develop an appreciation and understanding of the liturgy as a whole. This will also help them know when the liturgy is being abused, taught incorrectly, or is invalid. As a priest, there will be no higher good than celebrating the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. Their heart must begin there in the Eucharist and return there.

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TEACH YOUR SON TO RECOGNIZE GROOMING

Our boys must know how to recognize the signs of grooming and defend themselves and others. Not all grooming leads to sexual abuse but it can lead to an abuse of power in other ways, especially in a system designed with a hierarchy of authority where those in power have control over your daily life and vocation. Hierarchy isn’t bad…SIN is bad. The grooming behaviors of a non-sexual narcissist can be extremely damaging, especially when combined with spiritual formation.

I wrote an article called A Catholic Girls’ Guide to Unmasking a Predator and I think that the general guidelines can be helpful for a young man in seminary as well. The details will vary but the basic guidelines are the same. I have adapted the list (only slightly) here.

Red flags to watch out for in superiors or peers:

• He is a bad Catholic (faithful in externals but does not privately live the Gospel).

• He is a liar.

• He is secretive.

• He isolates you physically and emotionally.

• He is vulgar.

• He is divisive.

• He is mean.

• He pressures you to abandon your morals.

• He is immersed in foul music and media (or porn).

• He doesn't want to talk to your parents (or let you talk to your parents)

Some examples of grooming behaviors are emotional or physical isolation; creating a barrier between healthy relationships and the seminarian. All help is cut off and the formator has complete control of the most important aspects of the seminarians life.

Another example is breaking down boundaries and rules by degree. Sharing alcohol under forbidden circumstances and laughing it off. Watching a movie or listening to music together which breaches the boundaries of purity. Making off color jokes or using crude language regularly and generally pushing the boundaries until the seminarian is comfortable with a degree of “naughty.” This not only allows a truly evil formator to push boundaries further but to also have leverage against the seminarian in the future. Blackmail.

This grooming process is one reason why the culture of silence is the norm and why the laity are ignorant. If an evil man can draw a good (but weak) man into an indiscretion, he holds then power over the most important things in the weak man’s life. If a good man can get through the seminary in one piece, he still has to contend with the authority of corrupt power.

Teach your son to be a wall of strength against such predatory behaviors…and to think through ahead of time (like a war strategist) what he would do in different circumstances.

• What will he do if he is threatened with expulsion?

• What will he do if someone lies about him?

• What will he do if a formation or spiritual director crosses a physical or emotional boundary?

• What will he do if he is told not to tell the Bishop?

• What will he do if his fellow seminarians are engaging in immoral behavior (with men, women, or media)?

These are not questions to think about as they are happening but well ahead of time. If you are starting to feel panicky…pray for the spirit of a warrior and to have the courage to walk through your fear. "O blood and water, which gushed forth from the heart of Jesus as a fountain of mercy for us, I trust in you"

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STAY CLOSE TO YOUR SON

When all is said and done, the system which promises to be mother, father, teacher, and spiritual director to your kid may abandon him or deeply wound him. You may not even know. Be there. Be the constant thread in his life that doesn’t waiver and doesn’t harm. Be the constant offering of sacrificial love in prayer and action. Build a home of peace to which he can safely visit or return. Also, be the eyes and ears of wisdom which can help identify the dysfunctional behaviors in those in power over your seminarian.

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TEACH YOUR SON HIS CIVIL RIGHTS

In an institutional system where obedience, humility, and authority carry meanings and applications different than the secular understating, it is vital that a man understand precisely what his rights are.

He should understand his American civil rights which are built upon natural law. These are not abrogated simply because he enters seminary, regardless of what a formation director says! The seminary staff should respect the natural rights of each seminarian which include the right to privacy, safe environment and health needs, freedom from whistle blower retaliation, freedom from harassment. If your son finds his rights violated and chooses to object, he may find himself out of the seminary one way or another, but that is a decision he must be able to make clearly.

Even a generally good seminary experience can include strain between one person in power and a seminarian who has no power at all. It can become a no-win situation in which the seminarian knows that there really is no one to turn to since the ones he would be reporting are also the ones responsible with recommending him for another year in seminary.

In a dysfunctional situation, righteous anger has no legitimate expression. The virtues of obedience and humility are used as weapons by a director to gaslight and manipulate a seminarian into submission and dependency. It is an injustice which cannot be corrected, an injury which can only be turned inward, and one element which ends up creating the next generation of narcissistic priests.

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HELP YOUR SON LEARN HIS CANONICAL RIGHTS

Knowing canonical rights is equally important in these situations in which the external and internal forums are so closely intertwined. In the case of one seminary (known for its orthodoxy), it was a regular practice of one spiritual director to share seminarian details with the formation director. This is a grave violation of seminarian rights but the directors simply thought they were above that important rule. The end result was that the seminarian ended up leaving because he was not permitted to express himself against the injustice in a way that satisfied all parties.

The seminary handbook should lay out both civil and canonical rights and any points of concern should be clarified. The seminarian should know them and also have thought through what he will do if they are violated.

• What will he do if his spiritual director reveals protected information to his rector?

• What will he do if his physician shares private medical information with his rector?

• What will he do if his rector demands obedience in areas which violate natural and canonical rights or face expulsion?

• What will he do if he discovers that his formation director regularly lies to him and to others?

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ENTER THE BATTLE

We sometimes fall into the trap of thinking of Salvation History as the antiquated version of Marvel comics. Excitement, adventure, horror, romance! All wrapped up neatly in a collection of literature for our convenient perusal, entertainment, and edification.

We have to root that tendency out and come alive again to the reality of the Incarnation. Salvation History isn’t a thing that happened to people living long ago. It is happening now. We are in it. We are in the middle of the battle and it rages around us and even in our homes.

The enemy still prowls and attacks. Still destroys souls and nations and commits unspeakable atrocities. And I think because we have been granted a brief historical period of comfort and wealth, we forget…

Evil doesn’t care what you think. It doesn’t care if you forgive. It doesn’t care if you are compassionate. It doesn’t care if people suffer or die or weep in agony. It isn’t sorry. It doesn’t repent. It doesn’t care if you lose your faith. It doesn’t care if your son loses his faith in seminary or is molested or humiliated or lied about by a superior prelate. It doesn’t care if he is bullied out of seminary.

Evil delights in those things and boasts and dances in broad daylight in its perverse pride. It mocks us openly. We cannot afford to be naive.

As Christians, we believe that good will triumph. We’re not wrong in this. But we have a wrong understanding of what the battle looks like and have been protected from the worst by the blinding comfort of our American lifestyle and also by certain corrupt institutional systems designed to hide it.

We think the best of people, even the evil-doers. We look at sinful actions as “mistakes” and we are quick to forgive, but we are naive. When faced with the reality that the smoke of satan has not only entered the Church but is also wearing bishops’ mitres and Roman collars…well, that’s just very difficult to process. But it’s certainly nothing new.

Famous Catholic convert, Bella Dodd, worked with the Communists in the 1930’s to infiltrate the Catholic Church. She sought Confession and counsel from Venerable (soon to be Blessed) Fulton Sheen and described to him (and subsequently to the US government) how the she had followed the order of Stalin to “infiltrate Catholic seminaries and religious orders.” She personally placed over a 1000 false men into seminaries and worked with at least 4 cardinals who were active Communists.

Dodd’s close friend, Dr. Alice von Hildebrand writes about the infiltration:

“What I am writing on infiltration is not meant to deny that some bishops, some heads of religious orders, some priests have not fallen into the very grave sin of either closing their eyes to the horrible sins committed by people under their authority – but to make aware of the fact that a key factor hardly ever mentioned or mentioned at all, is that many of the worst culprits were not Catholic priests who had fallen prey to “unbridled lust” but infiltrators who had obtained false baptismal certificates and were plainly agents of communism. I heard from Bella Dodd that these evil men had even infiltrated the Vatican – for the Catholic Church is the arch enemy of Communism: and they know it.”

We are living the drama of Salvation History.

We cannot be afraid of hearing the negative. We must permit ourselves to experience the sorrow so that we can grieve and then gear up for battle. We now know that the Vatican knew about the sordid character of the Legionary founder, Maciel, as long ago as 1943 and did nothing. He was suspended as superior general and expelled from Rome for four years in the 1950’s for suspected pedophilia before being reinstated.

We must know.
We must make it our business.
We must decide to fight.
And if no one in authority will listen or act, then we must do it ourselves.

That there are good, holy priests fighting the good fight is absolutely true and I give thanks to God for these men who lay down their lives for us daily. In the midst of the chaos (although sometimes scattered and isolated) there is army of these good men! They know more than anyone of the danger within their own ranks and our failure to engage in the battle only harms them. It isolates them. It pierces them.

Let us stop our pearl clutching over harsh or negative news. We cannot escape the battle. And that means that we must choose which role we take in the fight.

IT COULD BE YOUR SON

When a lay person, priest, religious, bishop, or cardinal is being mistreated, abused, manipulated, silenced, or harassed by someone in authority over them, they often have nowhere to turn in the Church. Abuses are often ignored unless a civil court demands restitution for a proven crime or the laity yell loud enough. Groomed and abused seminarians are left to struggle with severe depression and loss of faith and identity. Priests are punished for their orthodoxy and  threatened with removal of faculties or even mental institutions. Good bishops are ignored by Rome. It is a painful thing but there is often no higher authority to which we can turn…and no outlet to which an abused or bullied member of the Church can use without increasing the abuse. Except…

Except for those in the Church who have been willing to look evil in the eye and call it out. And build again starting with the family.

As a parent of a young man discerning the priesthood, you must understand that those abused, harassed, alienated, and silenced priests could be your son…especially if your son is a particularly faithful Catholic. Start listening. Start speaking.

It’s time to level up.

Once you have begun to understand the true gravity of what is happening in the Church, you will have no choice but to cling to Jesus Christ, His promises, and His call to holiness. You will go through the grief and the doubt and then turn your heart back to Him with renewed fire and desire to serve and love and raise your sons to His Sacred Heart.

You will be able to stand in confidence and say “Enough! I’ve had enough.” And you will commit yourself to defending Truth, Beauty, and Goodness. It’s a battle with a known outcome. Now we just need to stand up and take our place in it.

Rise up, Church!
If God is calling men to become priests, then let Him call ours… and let us be prepared.

To again quote Dr. Alice von Hildebrand:

“What are faithful Catholics – aware of the gravity of the situation – to do? The answer is the one the Church has given us from the beginning: prayer, sacrifice, and the glorious conviction that the Forces of Evil shall not prevail.”

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Read Part I: To Solve the Vocations Crisis: Serviam!

To Solve the Vocations Crisis: Serviam (Part 1)

Every Catholic knows there is a vocations crisis. We see how few laborers there are in the vineyard and we thirst for the guidance and fatherhood of those missing shepherds. We also know too well the the crisis of corruption which causes an even more painful destruction in the heart of the Church. Whether the crisis of the priesthood is the absence of the collar or the desecration of the collar, the solution is the same…but we have lost sight of it.

We have become lazy in our speech, in our efforts, and in our prayers. Our fervor is reserved for internet drama and keeping our church buildings from closing and we seem to have lost our passion for the heart of vocation. We have forgotten what it even means, and upcoming generations have been formed by our failure. They have seen that our passion and love for the things of faith never surpass the fire we manage to breathe for youth sports…or politics…or technology.

As a consequence, we have also lost sight of the solution to the crisis.

We think it's about...

• Numbers

• Worldly appeal of the Gospel message

• Praying harder

• Better pizza at youth group

• Women priests.

And we're wrong. Completely and devastatingly wrong.

One of the consequences of our collective forgetfulness is that the discerning man or woman is left to wander. They have not forgotten what vocation really means, they have never been taught. They have also not been taught the fundamental importance of healthy human formation. In other words, we get good priests by raising good men, but we are neglecting the foundation of what it means to be a good man.

“The vocation of humanity is to show forth the image of God and to be transformed into the image of the Father’s only Son.” — Catechism of the Catholic church, 1877

VOCATION

The truth is that there is only ONE primary vocation for all of humanity. And that is the call to HOLINESS. There isn't a soul alive that is not called first and foremost to this most noble vocation. 

It is the secondary (or particular) vocation which is considered to be in crisis. This is the one we fret over and focus on. People generally mean the priesthood when they say "Pray for vocations," but there are other particular vocations: Holy Orders (priesthood), Consecrated Religious Life, and Holy Marriage. If these are all in crisis (they all are), it is only because there is a crisis of holiness. 

The young man raises his arms to heaven and cries:
Lord! What is it you want me to do with my life?? 

And God answers:
Love and Serve. Take up your cross and follow me.

The young man thinks that the magic pill for holiness will come through his secondary vocation but he has it backwards. And so does his community. Pray for vocations! we shout. But we are forgetting - or maybe we were just never taught - that vocation of any kind doesn't start with some Catholic pixie dust that falls down from heaven when we pray "for vocations." It does not come from better youth groups or having a bigger parish community center…

Vocation begins in the heart of Christ. 

The closer a person draws to the Sacred Heart, the closer he or she draws to the very purpose of their life: Holiness. And then to the particular work for which they have been made. We should be praying unceasingly for these things and we must have prayer in order to draw close to Christ. And it is in that prayer that the courage to do the work begins. 

"You should be a priest, young man!" 

Perhaps...but first, he should recklessly pursue sanctity. Then when someone asks him what he is going to do with his life - where he thinks God is calling him - he will answer: SERVIAM! {I will serve.} When the mind, body, and soul of a man are formed to listen and follow the will of God in all things, he will hear his specific call and he will answer. 

“The Priesthood is the love of the heart of Jesus.” — St. John Vianney

FORMATION

When my son entered seminary as part of his discernment, people would frequently say "Oh! You are going to be a priest!" he would answer:

“No ... I am going to study and grow so that I may know if God is truly calling me to be a priest.” 

He knew that he had a long way to go in that discernment process. Whether a man is ultimately called to be ordained or to enter the married or religious life, his healthy formation as a man will be paramount. If it is truly successful, regardless of what his particular vocation may be, he will be prepared to raise the cry of the Christian soldier. And his valiant actions will match his speech because he will have been prepared in mind, body, and soul for the long battle ahead. Regardless of our secondary vocation, whether we are male or female, young or old...  we are all to cry out with one voice:

SERVIAM!

I will serve. 

That courage does not come from just the act of saying the words of a prayer, but in calling the very presence of God into our lives, uniting our will and our actions to His divine will, and allowing everything — EVERYTHING — to be transformed by grace and the love of Christ.

MOVING FORWARD

It is easy to write about the ideal. It is significantly harder to walk the Way of the Cross in the footsteps of Christ. It is not a journey which should be undertaken without a proper understanding of what is required mind, body, and soul to become a healthy priest in the service of Christ and His Church.

The obstacles are many and there are practical matters to be considered when sending a son off into an institutional system which is unfortunately tainted with corruption in many dioceses and orders. The enemies of God pursue righteous men relentlessly and seminarians (and their parents) must know what they are facing ahead of time. They must be prepared to be warriors from the very beginning.

Part Two in this series is for parents of boys and young men who think that God might be calling their sons to discern at seminary. It is also intended to be a resource for the men themselves. But by directing it to parents, I hope it is understood that this preparation should start well before a son has left home. And preferably during the early years of childhood…

What Catholic Parents Need to Know Before a Son Enters Seminary (part 2)

How I Healed My Feet and Fell in Love With Barefoot Shoes

(Just a quick heads up… this post does contain affiliate links to one of my very favorite barefoot shoes companies, Xero Shoes. )

After wearing medically-prescribed orthotics and expensive stability shoes for over 35 years, I have healed my feet and now prefer to live barefoot or in minimalist shoes. I never imagined that I would be able to write such a statement. I assumed my “flat feet” and pain were permanent. I was told they were by numerous doctors and convinced by DECADES of agony and dysfunction. But…

They were wrong. I was wrong.

This fascinating and wonderful revelation comes as yet another perk from my overall healing of a lifetime of chronic pain and illness. That is a long story and can be found partially HERE and also in my upcoming book. The short version is this:

I spent decades with underlying Lyme disease and a cascade of autoimmune conditions which developed as a result. Without a correct diagnosis and with no assistance from medical doctors, I reached a point of desperation and embraced radical lifestyle changes.

I eliminated all inflammatory foods, body products, and household cleaners and watched the seemingly miraculous unfold in my life. For the first time in my life, I didn’t have severe pain in my feet and lower body. But I was still dependent on my stability footwear. I didn’t realize that my restrictive shoes and orthotics had prevented my feet and ankles from developing strength and balance. Decades of misuse and lack of use had stunted that development and I had no memory of things being different. So I continued to view my lower appendages as an unfortunate but permanent liability.

CHANGING MY LIFESTYLE TO CHANGE MY FEET

A few years later, after seeking further help from functional medicine doctors and finally receiving correct diagnosis’, I made even more changes to my lifestyle and and nutrition. I read more about good posture, healthy movement, and gait. And for the first time, I wondered if it was possible to set aside my expensive orthotics.

It was just a minor thought but I started to go barefoot more around the house and do little exercises for my feet here and there. I thought I was really getting wild and crazy when I went barefoot to exercise in my living for the first time. Prior to that, I would not even do vigorous stretching without my footwear.

It was a slow and incremental process. I felt weak and sore when I went without my shoes. And insecure and uncomfortable with shoes but without inserts. Such a silly thing…but the memory of so many years of pain and injury dies hard and the process is slow. It was not weeks but many months which slipped into a solid year.

A few years ago, my podiatrist told me that my running days were over and he sent me home with a walking boot to help ease my pain. Yesterday, I went for an 8-mile hike in the woods with my husband… in minimalist shoes. My feet were tired and sore but only in a normal way. And when I awakened in the morning and wondered if my feet would be on fire… well… they weren’t.

Is it possible that I could run again? (see the update at the bottom of this post for the answer to this question) Is it possible that my old shoes were actually damaging my body? I read more and found evidence that it was certainly possible. I also found evidence that suggested that my shoes were actually a contributing factor to the neuropathy in my feet. For the thousandth time in this incredible journey of healing, I felt hope rise.

Once a week, my family leaves me to myself in the house and I get some things done in the silence and I do a wonderful and free workout without anyone watching (difficult to do normally with my house full of people!). During that time is when I have tentatively expanded my barefoot strength. A little dancing. A little jumping. A little lateral work. And then… a little more. My favorite tool for foot strength is the Mobo Board.

Quite frankly, the transformation has been almost unbelievable.

FROM FLAT FEET TO BALLERINA FEET

It rained this morning and I stepped outside to catch a few drops. My feet went through the puddles and then back onto the dry stone porch. I looked down briefly at a dragonfly and saw a footprint. Mine. Pictured at the top of this article. With an arch that I’ve never had in my life.

Instead of a flat pancake of a print…I had an arch. And nothing I could do would flatten it to the stone. I sat down and examined my foot and wondered what ballerina had switched feet with me in my sleep. I’m sure no one else would compare my feet to a dancer’s but I was quite taken with my beautiful firm arch.

Miraculous…but not. Because our greatest healing often comes when we align our actions to the biological design of our bodies. Once my pain was managed, I started to feel my feet again. Once I felt my feet again, I was able to properly care for them. I’m sure a gait specialist could look at my footprint and tell me how much dysfunction still remains. But I’m on my way.

NEW SHOES…NEW LIFE

My favorite pair of shoes is now a minimalist sandal from Xero Shoes and I’m gradually transitioning all of my foot gear to friendlier fashions. (That’s a very happily shared affiliate link, by the way. So if you purchase your own, I do benefit.) I will be buying my first pair of barefoot boots with them this coming month since I live in the Northeast and I’m excited to experience my first “barefoot” winter.

I used to feel such relief when I would put on a pair of stable shoes after walking barefoot. My feet were weak and had been trained to need that support. Now, I feel relief when I take my shoes off or use a minimalist shoe. The difference is amazing and I thank God for this shift in understanding which has led to healing.

I realize this article is a much simplified version of my overall story, but the path to healing is quite simple. Not easy, but simple. The difficulty is found in the daily decisions which ultimately lead to a recovering and strong body. To heal my feet, I did three things:

1. Managed my pain and swelling through an anti-inflammatory diet and lifestyle

2. Strengthened my feet and ankles and slowly weaned off of my restrictive support

3. Introduced footwear (or went barefoot) to maintain a healthy gait

Those steps are simple. It is the small decisions not to drink the daily can of soda or to eat non-nutritious, inflammatory foods which derail us. It is the choice to buy the cute work shoes over the less-preferred style. And the hours at a desk without movement. But the effort to interfere with our dysfunction is worth it. It’s all worth it. Even if you aren't willing or able to make the major changes that I’ve made, I know that every little bit helps.

If you want to restore the health of your feet, start by taking off the narrow restrictive shoes and stretching them. Imagine that it’s possible. Then maybe eat a healthy meal…and start walking.

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UPDATE 7.22.2021 :

Not only have my feet continued to improve, but I have hosted a virtual 5K for the past two years, inspired by the frustrations of quarantine, rising to hope in the victory of Jesus Christ and His design for our amazing bodies. Running provides an incredible opportunity for intercessory prayer, lifting a little of the burdens of our brothers and sisters. What is a little stone to us is a boulder to others. What a privilege it is to orient our efforts toward love.

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Beyond the Stick Figure: Homeschool Art Program Review

{This post contains affiliate links. I may receive compensation for purchases you make through my links. More info Here. I also received several lessons for free in exchange for an honest review.}

When I was a child, there was nothing I wanted more than to be an artist. As I grew into an older teen, that desire remained solidly intact but I lacked the understanding and guidance to make that happen. I never got the chance to go to art school but I never lost the deep urge to create. So…

I got married and had a bunch of beautiful babies who are growing into amazing people. And I have expressed my creative inclinations through my motherhood and interactions with the world. I have no regrets, but there is one thing I wish that I could have brought with me into my vocation…

I wish that I had been given a broader technical knowledge of art so that my hands would be free to produce something beautiful when my heart was overflowing with the desire to express it.

I’ve gone through several art programs in my homeschool over the last 17 years of homeschooling but none have really captured me. It’s always felt too much like “school” to me and I’ve been wary of dampening the delight of the children in their creative abilities. Not all of my older children had an interest in art but I do regret that I wasn’t able to open more doors of expression for them.

When I had the opportunity to review Beyond the Stick Figure, I was torn. I didn’t want to expend energy and time on another stuffy program that we didn’t want to finish. But after watching an introductory video, I was hooked. The instructor, Sally Stanfield, is an artist and homeschooling mother. And some of her first words to homeschooling moms convinced me this program was for me. She said (I’m paraphrasing):

Don’t squash their delight. Let them discover without pressure. Allow them to make their own mistakes and to learn the medium through experience, not henpecking.

Ah, I thought. She knows me. I’m a lover of art and embracing the wrong answer. Let’s do this…

(Scroll all the way down for my 10% discount code!)

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ALL CHILDREN ARE ARTISTS

The premise of this program is that all children are artists. It’s not something that some people are born with and others aren’t. Just as we are taught to read, we can be taught the foundational skills of art. And just like the emerging reader will someday be able to read the works of Shakespeare, the crayon scribbling toddler can also develop the ability to create something beautiful through art.

For a Christian, this give another avenue of expressing the truth built into creation by our creative God. We, who were made in His image and likeness, can learn to more fully express that joy.

FOR THE WHOLE FAMILY

Beyond the Stick Figure is a program that can be used by almost every person in the family. We are currently using it with four students ages 6, 8, 12, and 15. And occasionally, the 3-year old will join us and contribute his own masterpieces! Everyone participates in the same lessons but brings his or her own degree of experience and fine motor maturity. There’s no reason why an adult cannot also enjoy the process.

Please note: This is also the perfect program for a non-homeschooling family because it isn’t cumbersome. It doesn’t add a burden to an already full schedule but makes itself available to a ANY child interested in pursuing a greater knowledge of art.

SHORT LESSONS

I’m convinced that the best way to teach a child is to spend a brief amount of time instructing and then GET OUT OF THE WAY! lol Sally does a wonderful job of keeping the lessons only a few minutes long so that the student can spend the majority of the time practicing. There is no greater art teacher than the experience of manipulating the medium over and over…allowing the brain to connect with the hand…and enjoying the experience. A more advanced art student will perhaps need more rigorous training (to which they willingly submit) but for young ones, the majority of their experience should be a pleasure.

MANAGABLE FOR MOM

By the time most homeschool moms fit in all the basic courses we want for our children, art class can feel like a burden. Beyond the Stick Figure takes that load off. The price includes lifetime access and can be used by children independently or all together. The time required is minimal. And it can be done at your pace. You don’t have to be an art expert to run this class and you don’t have to grade papers.

REPEATABLE/REUSABLE

As I said, once you have purchased the course, you can use it for all of your students as often as you like. There is no limit to the number of times a student can go back and watch the lessons and practice the skills and techniques.

AFFORDABLE

The purchase is one time for all time and all children. From the comfort of your own home (yes, I know you don’t need another lesson to drive to!) with the option of allowing the kids to post their work to the online community. This program can work for multiple years, especially since a maturing student can repeat the lessons but with the ability to layer experience an their own innovation. Click the link HERE to go to the Beyond the Stick figure website for more information. And don’t forget to use my discount code for 10% off! ARTFORYOU19

SUPPLIES

The supply list is one of my favorite aspects of this program! It is extremely simple. It is also focused on good quality materials which make the experience so satisfying for the children. For those moms hesitant to give professional art materials to young children, I will give you an example of how supplies can make or break the experience for a reluctant artist:

Did you ever gone to a restaurant and as a kid where they give cheap crayons to color the menu? You pull out the beautiful green crayon and start to color the dinosaur and… oh… it’s mostly a light, waxy, inconsistent smudge of color. You thought you were good at coloring until you tried that crayon! You know what you can do with a Crayola and although it’s just a restaurant placemat, it’s still disappointing and annoying.

That’s the difference. When your child has a real art marker in their hand and the heavy pigment first bleeds onto that paper… they will be delighted. You can certainly use whatever materials you like (you’re the teacher!) but I do recommend using her list. We use her list all the way down to our 6-year old but the 3-year old gets Crayola markers. :)

The supply list:

• Quality alcohol ink markers like Prismacolor (set of 12). A typical price is around $20. A great price is anything under $20. Using coupons at a local supply store like Joann Fabrics can be a great way to save.

• Quality art pad like Strathmore for lessons and filing art. This does double duty as a work space and a portfolio.

• Copy paper. We use the same paper we buy for our printer.

We also purchased a flat plastic bin for each child at the Target dollar section to hold their supplies and a washi tape for identifying their markers. She does teach the kids how to care for their materials and one suggestion is to use tape to identify markers with multiple students. Smart lady! We thought the colorful washi tape would be an easy way to do that.

Our bins neatly fit the kids’ materials. Most of the children have the set of 12 Prismacolor markers but the older two girls received a larger set of 24 last Christmas with a nice carrying case (above). That purchase was made well before we discovered this course (because I already believed in giving the kids good supplies) so we were extra excited to be able to use them with this course. Be savvy and SHOP THE SALES!! Even on Amazon, a search will reveal different prices by multiple sellers. Right now, I see one seller selling a 12-count for $17 and another for $25. Before Christmas last year, we found the 24-count with case on sale for 50% off at a small online art store.

He’s 100% happy with his $1 Crayola markers.

Sally cautions not to criticize or force the child’s learning to satisfy our motherly pride or desire to control. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that approach and also that reminder. This process is not about me and what I look like. It is to benefit and bless our children and our first order of business is to honor their need for home to be a safe and inspiring place to learn.

Every one of my students looks forward to doing this program and enjoys the new lessons… and I do as well. Sometimes the most critical ingredient to the long-term success of a homeschool program is really whether or not mom likes it! I’m a fan. And I think we’ve finally found a program that fuels the joy of creating instead of trying to compartmentalize it.

TO PURCHASE

Visit the Beyond the Stick Figure website, select your program, and use the 10% discount code: ARTFORYOU19

Enjoy! And may your school year (and life) be richly blessed with the creative love of Jesus Christ!

Fixing Stupid: Learning to Love the Wrong Answer

I did not love school. There may have been a time when I did love it but it is not something I remember. As a very little girl, I found school a terrifying ordeal. Everything was cold, loud, and urgent, and I always felt like I was doing something wrong whether it was getting in the wrong line or going too far ahead in the reading book. I did have many positive experiences during those years but they are overshadowed in my mind. I suppose that’s human nature.

As an older student, my stark fear gave way to a steady anxiety. Classes and teachers changed but there was always the same crude, frantic, phony world surrounding me and to which I had adapted. I was naturally intelligent (as most children are) and I cared about my grades and pleasing my teachers. Yet somewhere along the way I lost confidence and hope, overwhelmed with a sense of failure and fear.

In addition to the fear of being ridiculed by my classmates, my greater fear as a little girl was of humiliation via the ubiquitous wrong answer. It was the enemy of all happiness. It haunted my homework, my tests, recess, lunch, and my classroom experience. The wrong answer brought the red ink, the frown of a teacher, the mocking laughter of my peers. It said YOU are an idiot. 

As a small child, I believed that I could learn everything and do anything. I hadn't yet learned to distrust my teachers or the system. I believed what they said. I was told I was smart. That I was a good student. And I never questioned that in the beginning.

Yet as the wrong answers started to pile up and the hard system wore down my flimsy confidence, I stopped believing adults when they said that I was intelligent. I could see the message clearly, scribbled in red ink, that I was not. Even when I knew the answer when called on in class, I was paralyzed by my lack of confidence and, doubting myself, would even give answers I did not believe to be true.  I thought if I was answering a question, odds are that I was wrong. I was shy with my peers, terrible at "comebacks" and ignorant of current boy bands. Those things, among others, sealed my conviction:

I am stupid.

In my early years, I was considered a bright student and was at the top of my class, often receiving special recognition and honors. When I hit junior high, I earned a new label: underachiever.

To me, that label translated to one thing…

You suck. You are so unalterably stupid that you can't even do anything with the smarts that you do have.

My teachers still talked about how smart I was but now it was in a wistful way... as if remembering something that had been lost. My parents knew I was smart and communicated that to me, but that made it more painful; to know that there was nothing I could do to repay their confidence in me.

I wasn’t really stupid, I just hated school and myself. My soul and body were gripped by despair and pain and I wanted to disappear… to die. But that’s a story for a different day. That was MY story but grades aren’t nuanced enough to communicate those things. And ultimately, the reasons wouldn’t have been helpful to my teachers. Their job was to evaluate the grade and not to parent me…and I understand that. So I hobbled along with the labels and grades, struggling to find the motivation to keep trying. To keep living.

Fast-forward to my adult years during which I have struggled to overcome the ingrained belief that I am truly an idiot...

When I first started home educating, I taught my children fear of the wrong answer and unfortunately, they learned the lesson. They learned to run from it just as I had learned. They learned that it was far better to clam up than to risk looking like a real fool. The deer in the headlights stare of a school student is simply the youthful equivalent to pleading the fifth on the adult witness stand.

I refuse to incriminate myself. Think me stupid either way but I won't prove it publicly.

I passed along the disease of our educational system in my homeschool... and I have been working to heal that wound ever since.

I now want my children to embrace their wrong answers because I understand that there are no true right answers without them. In our search for the truth, we must engage our options and grapple with possibilities. Without wrong answers, we do not truly own the right ones. We become automatons who spit back information that someone fed to us. That is not true education. It has no place in my homeschool.

As a younger home educator I jealously guarded the teacher manuals. I was the keeper of the right answer and you may not have it, child, unless I choose to release the secret.

 It took years for me to realize how ridiculous that was. The turning point was reading John Holt's How Children Fail. I read my own story in those pages and shook with emotion as my eyes opened.

I am not stupid. 

“When children are very young, they have natural curiosities about the world and explore them, trying diligently to figure out what is real. As they become "producers " they fall away from exploration and start fishing for the right answers with little thought. They believe they must always be right, so they quickly forget mistakes and how these mistakes were made. They believe that the only good response from the teacher is "yes," and that a "no" is defeat.” ― John Holt, How Children Fail

Once I realized that my response to a fear-based education was normal, I handed over many of the teacher manuals to my kids. I soon found that there was less fear, less temptation to cheat, fewer tears. They had access to the secrets… and the magic pill to real learning wasn’t in that manual… it was in the hard work they would put in to make the knowledge their own. Our focus turned slowly from testing to learning and we began to correct the ridiculous but ingrained notion that the test exists to expose stupidity and teachers to correct the ignorant.

I deeply regret passing on the dysfunction that I learned in school to my children. But the human spirit is resilient and my kids are doing just fine. They are slowly learning that wrong answers are a gift and a part of the positive process of authentic education. They naturally crave truth and knowledge and do not need me to frighten them into pursuing those things. And I am learning how to change my language and methods to reflect the confidence and respect that I have for them.

There are indeed "right answers" in the world and I do teach them to my kids. Objective assessment is an important tool in our lives, especially for students hoping to move on to college. But I do strive to defend my children from an education that emphasizes perfect testing over authentic learning. Eventually, children must learn to seek, educate, explore, and uncover a passion for truth without your constant direction. Otherwise, they are just your little robots. For the short term.

At some point, they will begin to question... and they will either be prepared for that journey to self-knowledge or they will not. They will meet the wrong answer many times on that journey. Will it inspire fear? Or will they lean into the obstacle with enthusiasm, knowing that it will inevitably lead to true growth and knowledge?

Homeschooling moms... Do you have a struggling student? Want to bless their day? Put away the red pen for a while and just let them relax and learn without fear.

Don’t worry about perfect. It’s a chimera. Just strive to learn with deep love for the whole person.

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Photo by Daniel Watson on Unsplash