On Sunday, I prepared myself to say goodbye to our beloved priest who was being transferred to a different parish. I had known this day was coming for several weeks and thought I had shed all the tears I possibly could. But Sunday morning came and I began to cry again. I pulled myself together before mass, gathered up the family, and off we went. As I was driving, I began to think of the disciples who wept when they had to say goodbye to Jesus. He was their friend and teacher. He was their beloved priest, if you will. Their goodbye was final in their mind. What grief must they have felt? What pain must Mary have felt? Jesus wasn't moving down the road to a different parish as my priest was. I got sad all over again thinking of the disciples, which oddly made me feel better about my situation. It kind of put it all into perspective.
Sitting in church before mass started, I started to well up again and found it very difficult to sit there knowing it would be the last time I would watch our priest process in and the last time I would share the Eucharist with him in our Church. I began to think of Jesus again and remembered our priest would not be far away. Jesus' friends and followers must have felt such desperation as his sentence was handed down. Not only had they loved Him and believed in Him, but they would be willing to die for Him. The love our parish had for our beloved priest was but a small window into the love those early disciples felt for Jesus. I felt it.
After mass, I went to visit my neighbor and friend who was sitting shiva for her father who had passed away just a few days prior. She knew his death was imminent as he was elderly and had been battling cancer, but he took a quick turn for the worse and his death was sudden. I had been feeling her pain all week and was looking forward to attending shiva with her and her family. Because we were in mass in the morning, I had missed the funeral and interment, but was able to go to her home for shiva. I arrived in time for the prayer service they would be having in their home. It was so beautiful as I stood in a house filled with family and friends steeped in Jewish faith and tradition. It was that faith and tradition that I got swept up in. How similar we are to one another; Judaism and Christianity. We sang in Hebrew, repeated prayers, and prayed over the family. Towards the end of the prayer service, there was a beautiful paragraph about saying goodbye, and I wrote down one of the sentences: "All that we prize is but lent to us, and the time comes when we must surrender it."
That sentence hit me like a brick. I had been grieving for weeks over having to say goodbye to a friend, but here was my friend who had to say goodbye to her father forever. She was grieving. She was consoled by her faith and the prayers extended over her and her family. I had been consoled earlier in the day at Church by my faith and the prayers said by our faith community. It was Pentecost Sunday. The Holy Spirit was alive and well - passing over all of us in our time of need. I thought of Jesus and his grieving followers and friends, I thought of my Jewish friend and her grieving family, and I thought of my Church and its grieving community. I was connected that day to Jesus and our Jewish roots. Surely, Jesus would have sat shiva for Joseph? We were all connected and our faith was what held us up. I knew that the time had come to surrender. Surrender I did.
"All that we prize is but lent to us, and the time comes when we must surrender it."
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
The Spirit is Leading Us Part II
In April 2009, we had our third son, John Paul. Even though I was a little nervous about being branded the "Pope worshippers", we did name him after Blessed John Paul II. As a protestant I had greatly admired JPII. There was a definite curiosity there. After I became Catholic (5 years after I was married), I knew I would someday work in the pro-life ministry of the Church. JPII was big on the pro-life issue. He has many great quotes on the topic. As I was pregnant with my third child, I knew my time to join the movement was imminent. Why not name our son after the only Pope I ever knew, and one who was so outspoken on the right to life issue? We named him John Paul and of course our priest immediately said to me, "You know, people will call him JP." I said, "Not if I can help it!"
Six weeks after his birth, in June 2009, my husband went to a men's retreat at Franciscan University in Steubenville, OH. He met Danny Abramowitz, former professional football player and coach, and one of the "team" on EWTN's "Crossing the Goal" tv program. They hit it off and spoke of one day starting a Catholic Men's Conference in our Archdiocese - we have never had one before. To make a long story short, plans were laid out, meetings were arranged with one of our bishops, many meetings were made with the men's ministry of our parish, and two years later (March 2011) the First Annual Archdiocese of Miami Catholic Men's Conference went off without a hitch. There were approximately 500 men in attendance - from numerous counties here in Florida. The "Crossing the Goal" team were the speakers and Archbishop Wenski presided over the concluding mass. It was apparently a beautiful day!
After the retreat in 2009, my husband made it his mission to bring Dr. Scott Hahn to our small parish. Dr. Hahn arrived in March 2010 to a packed church. Many people heard he was coming and came over from other parishes - as well as dioceses. It was a great day for our parish. Many eyes were opened that day to the beauty within the Catholic Church...told only the way Dr. Hahn can. And you know, since I too can read Greek and Latin, he and I see eye to eye on all the biblical translations (no, just kidding...who reads Greek and Latin?). But like Dr. Hahn, I am a convert as well, and I love his and his wife's story of conversion. Dr. Hahn's presence helped to ignite the flame in starting the men's conference.
In June 2010, my husband once again went to the men's retreat in Steubenville. He was nervous about leaving me with three boys - one of them being a one year old. I told him to go and not worry about it. For some reason, I honestly cannot explain why, I decided to take a pregnancy test. After having John Paul, we had decided to practice natural family planning. It was new to us and we thought we would have time to read up on it and figure it all out. It was okay though if something unplanned happened...we were open to life. After having our first son, we had a miscarriage, and then apparently became infertile. After nine and a half years, I gave birth to our second son. I suffered another miscarriage in hopes that our second son could have a sibling closer in age, and then I became pregnant with John Paul. You have to understand that I tormented myself all those years over yearning for a daughter and then feeling guilty about feeling that way. I even used to think God was punishing me (I know God is not a punishing God) during my infertile period because I wanted things my way. In June 2010, my husband was on retreat, I took the pregnancy test, and it was positive. Was this my daughter? I actually didn't want to know. I had left this all in God's hands, and He was sending us another child. I felt blessed beyond words.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
The Spirit is Leading Us
When I converted to Catholicism, it was not "because my husband was Catholic." I converted because in my heart I knew the truth had always been in the Catholic Church. If anything, as a former Episcopalian raised in an occult-practicing home, I was jealous of anyone who had been born a Catholic. It was like they had been given this incredible gift at birth and many didn't even know it or appreciate it. I had been fighting for it most of my life. Making my fifth and final college a Catholic one was a deliberate decision, choosing to teach in a Catholic school setting was handed to me on a silver platter and I accepted, and signing up for RCIA was a very conscious decision. I knew what was at the end of that road and I couldn't wait to get there.
My husband is a cradle Catholic and early in our marriage he would tell me that, "It's cultural - being Catholic is who I am." Of course having been one his whole life and attending Catholic school growing up, he knew more about his faith than I did in some respects, but in other respects, I did. What I did know for sure was that he did not know his faith well enough. There were big holes in his catechesis growing up. I certainly had big deficits (and still do), but I was learning and loving it. I saw him just wanting to attend mass minimally and not wanting to grow in his faith. I began praying for him that one day his eyes would be opened to the treasure that is inside Christ's Church. I knew that once he saw it, there would be no turning back.
Fast forward to the time when I was pregnant with my third son. The last time I wrote about my journey, this is where I left off. I had become pregnant with him after my second miscarriage. This baby boy was a gift and every time I thought of the baby while he was in my womb, I heard the name John Paul. Man, did I fight that one. I tried to think of every other boy's name, but I kept hearing the name John Paul. I fought this name because it sounded too "Catholic" to me. What would people think? They're going to think we're some weird "Pope worshippers"! God was still leading us.
I don't remember exactly when but sometime in that pregnancy, my husband began reading vigorously about his faith mostly to defend it to a Protestant co-worker. He never knew how to properly defend the Catholic faith, so he decided to try to learn as much as he could. So he and I began this journey of trying to learn more together. We shared information, discussed it, and continued to be amazed at all we were discovering...all that had been in the Church for two thousand years...all that's still there that so many Catholics don't even know exists. Well, my prayers were finally being answered. I had a husband who was turned on to his faith. We were both on fire with the Spirit!
We talked about one day him being able to go to Franciscan University to one of their men's retreats, as we had heard they were amazing. He was attending a men's bible study at our church and they had even discussed sending a few guys up there for a retreat sometime in the future. Well, our third son (John Paul, of course) was born in April of 2009 and I decided to send my husband to a Franciscan University retreat that was coming up in June as a Father's Day present. I told him early of my present so we could buy his plane ticket. He, of course, turned me down because he said he couldn't imagine leaving me alone for the weekend with two boys and a six week old newborn. I told him I'd be okay and I wanted him to go. He said no.
His Men's bible study decided to send a small group of men to the conference - one of our deacons and two men who lead the group. My husband was so happy that at least someone from our parish would get to go and be involved with this incredible retreat. At the last minute, one of the men could not attend and asked if my husband would take his place. It was like God was saying, "You know, I tried to reach you through your wife, but you declined. I had to pull out all the stops." This retreat was handed to him and I told him it was meant to be, that he should go, and that we would manage without him.
He went. It was life altering for him. And he met a former professional football player who would help him and the men from our parish enliven the spirit within the men of our Archdiocese. My husband's faith was alive - something I had prayed for years ago - and it was changing the course of our marriage...all for the better.
I will write more in my next blog. :)
My husband is a cradle Catholic and early in our marriage he would tell me that, "It's cultural - being Catholic is who I am." Of course having been one his whole life and attending Catholic school growing up, he knew more about his faith than I did in some respects, but in other respects, I did. What I did know for sure was that he did not know his faith well enough. There were big holes in his catechesis growing up. I certainly had big deficits (and still do), but I was learning and loving it. I saw him just wanting to attend mass minimally and not wanting to grow in his faith. I began praying for him that one day his eyes would be opened to the treasure that is inside Christ's Church. I knew that once he saw it, there would be no turning back.
Fast forward to the time when I was pregnant with my third son. The last time I wrote about my journey, this is where I left off. I had become pregnant with him after my second miscarriage. This baby boy was a gift and every time I thought of the baby while he was in my womb, I heard the name John Paul. Man, did I fight that one. I tried to think of every other boy's name, but I kept hearing the name John Paul. I fought this name because it sounded too "Catholic" to me. What would people think? They're going to think we're some weird "Pope worshippers"! God was still leading us.
I don't remember exactly when but sometime in that pregnancy, my husband began reading vigorously about his faith mostly to defend it to a Protestant co-worker. He never knew how to properly defend the Catholic faith, so he decided to try to learn as much as he could. So he and I began this journey of trying to learn more together. We shared information, discussed it, and continued to be amazed at all we were discovering...all that had been in the Church for two thousand years...all that's still there that so many Catholics don't even know exists. Well, my prayers were finally being answered. I had a husband who was turned on to his faith. We were both on fire with the Spirit!
We talked about one day him being able to go to Franciscan University to one of their men's retreats, as we had heard they were amazing. He was attending a men's bible study at our church and they had even discussed sending a few guys up there for a retreat sometime in the future. Well, our third son (John Paul, of course) was born in April of 2009 and I decided to send my husband to a Franciscan University retreat that was coming up in June as a Father's Day present. I told him early of my present so we could buy his plane ticket. He, of course, turned me down because he said he couldn't imagine leaving me alone for the weekend with two boys and a six week old newborn. I told him I'd be okay and I wanted him to go. He said no.
His Men's bible study decided to send a small group of men to the conference - one of our deacons and two men who lead the group. My husband was so happy that at least someone from our parish would get to go and be involved with this incredible retreat. At the last minute, one of the men could not attend and asked if my husband would take his place. It was like God was saying, "You know, I tried to reach you through your wife, but you declined. I had to pull out all the stops." This retreat was handed to him and I told him it was meant to be, that he should go, and that we would manage without him.
He went. It was life altering for him. And he met a former professional football player who would help him and the men from our parish enliven the spirit within the men of our Archdiocese. My husband's faith was alive - something I had prayed for years ago - and it was changing the course of our marriage...all for the better.
I will write more in my next blog. :)
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Happy Belated Mother's Day
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| My grandmother holding her second child...my mother 1945, New Mexico |
I meant to write this posting before Mother's Day, but wouldn't you know it...I was busy. I am feeling very compelled to write this though, so I am wishing a very belated Happy Mother's Day to all my readers who are moms, mamas, mommies, meemaws, and mothers.
My maternal grandmother gave birth to her firstborn child - a son - in the early 1940's. He was born with spina bifida and passed away after only a few months. She often spoke of her son, Ronnie, and every time her eyes would well up with tears. When I was a teen, I used to wonder why she still lamented a baby she had lost so many years ago. Don't get me wrong; I wasn't callous, just was lost in my own teenage angst and self absorption. After I married and gave birth to my first son, I didn't wonder anymore. I knew the love a mother has for her child. It must be the strongest form of love on earth. We would die for our children. "Take me, not my child," we would say.
Throughout the ages, women have lost children whether in the womb or days, months, or years after birth. It is a pain that lasts with the mother for life. People, of course, can instantly sympathize with someone who has lost a child after it's been born. Many women have lost babies before they were born and feel the same pain. Miscarriage is a topic that is not often talked about and I'm not sure why. It is so common, however, that I don't know many moms who haven't suffered at least one miscarriage.
I dedicate this Mother's Day to all women who have carried a baby in their wombs, even for mere days. A mother instantly feels protective of her baby, and she loves it unconditionally. Each of our babies takes a piece of our hearts from the moment of conception. Women must not let anyone tell them their babies are only a clump of cells - a term which actually nauseates me. Our babies are our babies - no matter how old or how long we knew them. If you have lost a baby from a miscarriage know that they are waiting for you in heaven. They are your angels, and they can't wait for you to hold them.
My grandmother loved me unconditionally and taught me many things about being a mother. One month before she passed away, she brought up her firstborn son - her only son - once again. She had tears in her eyes and she said, "I can't wait to see Ronnie again...and my mama and daddy." She began crying - my grandmother of seventy-seven years. She had been waiting all that time to see her baby boy again. Our babies are our babies. Motherhood is a gift.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Teach Your Children Well
Being a part of the pro-life movement is not an easy task, and at times seems like such a daunting commitment that I want to bow out all together. Abortion is not an easy topic to talk about, read about, or write about. Every time, I begin to feel defeated or like I could walk away without anyone even noticing, something or someone inadvertently picks me back up and encourages me to press on.
Today, I saw a video which exhilarated my efforts once again because it accurately showed the reality of why so many abortions occur, and it ultimately portrayed the young woman choosing life over death. I have personally known several women who have had abortions and each time, the woman was pressured by her boyfriend or husband to "just get rid of it". As I write those words, the hair stands up on the back of my neck because it completely goes against every fiber of my being. Women are born to nurture. We are born to give life and nurture that life. It would be counter to our genetics to kill our offspring.
However, this is happening by the millions. Too often than not, boyfriends and husbands who have no God in their lives find it easy to tell their girlfriends and wives that having a baby is not an option. They will even tell them that if they decide to keep the baby, they're through. I can tell you with certainty that a woman at the end of her life will never regret having children; however, she will regret staying one minute with a man who would even think of the possibility of murdering their child, let alone actually suggesting and/or demanding it.
I am convinced that the only way abortion will end is by changing the hearts of our young men and women. Girls and boys must be taught from a very young age that life begins at conception. They must be taught that "life" means "baby"...not a clump of cells! Having a baby is God's gift to us. He is showing us His love for us through creating life. If you have ever looked into a baby's eyes and seen the understanding - the connection - that is there, then you have seen God's love for you. Babies are love. They love and want to be loved. It's really as simple as that. We love them by nurturing them through nourishment, close loving contact, gentle movements, warmth, kisses, and hugs. God loves us in the same way. He is gentle, he nourishes us, and he is in close contact with us all the time. He loves us through the gift of life.
We have to teach our girls to respect themselves and their bodies enough to know that having a baby should only occur within the context of a loving marriage. If we could teach our sons to respect girls to such a height as to hold in esteem the sanctity of marriage, then girls would never feel pressured into a situation that deep down they know is wrong. Abstinence is the only form of contraception that is 100% reliable. There is no other form of contraception that is 100% reliable. As a matter-of-fact, all other forms of contraception can lead to depression and low self-esteem, which have far reaching consequences for girls. I don't know any 40 year old women who say, "I'm sure glad I had all those wild times when I was younger and gave myself to all those boys. Sure glad I had all those pre-marital relationships and one night stands!" What have we women done with our "freedom"? We have given ourselves freely over to abuse, rape, low self-esteem, depression, medical problems as a result of contraceptions and abortions, a rise in breast and cervical cancer, and the ability to murder our own children in a horrific violent manner.
This video accurately portrays the scenario of a young woman who finds herself pregnant with her boyfriend's child, only to hear that she must "take care of it" or they're through. As I stated earlier, she ultimately chooses life over death; motherhood over a short lived relationship with a boy who is willing to murder his own child. We must start at home with our own children...telling them of the beauty of life - of the gift God bestows upon us. We must teach our children to abstain until marriage. We must teach our children of the sanctity of marriage. We must teach our young girls to respect themselves and their bodies, so that they never give themselves over freely. We must teach our young boys to respect girls and their bodies. We must teach our young boys how to grow into men who are willing to abstain until marriage. We must also teach them that killing the unborn is never an option...and it is never an option to suggest it to a young woman. If we can teach our children those things, abortions will cease to exist. We won't have to fight powerhouses like Planned Parenthood because there won't be money to be had in the abortion business anymore. If we can change the hearts of Americans, then we can change laws...but not until then.
I have included the short movie here. I welcome your comments!
Warning!: some graphic images
Today, I saw a video which exhilarated my efforts once again because it accurately showed the reality of why so many abortions occur, and it ultimately portrayed the young woman choosing life over death. I have personally known several women who have had abortions and each time, the woman was pressured by her boyfriend or husband to "just get rid of it". As I write those words, the hair stands up on the back of my neck because it completely goes against every fiber of my being. Women are born to nurture. We are born to give life and nurture that life. It would be counter to our genetics to kill our offspring.
However, this is happening by the millions. Too often than not, boyfriends and husbands who have no God in their lives find it easy to tell their girlfriends and wives that having a baby is not an option. They will even tell them that if they decide to keep the baby, they're through. I can tell you with certainty that a woman at the end of her life will never regret having children; however, she will regret staying one minute with a man who would even think of the possibility of murdering their child, let alone actually suggesting and/or demanding it.
I am convinced that the only way abortion will end is by changing the hearts of our young men and women. Girls and boys must be taught from a very young age that life begins at conception. They must be taught that "life" means "baby"...not a clump of cells! Having a baby is God's gift to us. He is showing us His love for us through creating life. If you have ever looked into a baby's eyes and seen the understanding - the connection - that is there, then you have seen God's love for you. Babies are love. They love and want to be loved. It's really as simple as that. We love them by nurturing them through nourishment, close loving contact, gentle movements, warmth, kisses, and hugs. God loves us in the same way. He is gentle, he nourishes us, and he is in close contact with us all the time. He loves us through the gift of life.
We have to teach our girls to respect themselves and their bodies enough to know that having a baby should only occur within the context of a loving marriage. If we could teach our sons to respect girls to such a height as to hold in esteem the sanctity of marriage, then girls would never feel pressured into a situation that deep down they know is wrong. Abstinence is the only form of contraception that is 100% reliable. There is no other form of contraception that is 100% reliable. As a matter-of-fact, all other forms of contraception can lead to depression and low self-esteem, which have far reaching consequences for girls. I don't know any 40 year old women who say, "I'm sure glad I had all those wild times when I was younger and gave myself to all those boys. Sure glad I had all those pre-marital relationships and one night stands!" What have we women done with our "freedom"? We have given ourselves freely over to abuse, rape, low self-esteem, depression, medical problems as a result of contraceptions and abortions, a rise in breast and cervical cancer, and the ability to murder our own children in a horrific violent manner.
This video accurately portrays the scenario of a young woman who finds herself pregnant with her boyfriend's child, only to hear that she must "take care of it" or they're through. As I stated earlier, she ultimately chooses life over death; motherhood over a short lived relationship with a boy who is willing to murder his own child. We must start at home with our own children...telling them of the beauty of life - of the gift God bestows upon us. We must teach our children to abstain until marriage. We must teach our children of the sanctity of marriage. We must teach our young girls to respect themselves and their bodies, so that they never give themselves over freely. We must teach our young boys to respect girls and their bodies. We must teach our young boys how to grow into men who are willing to abstain until marriage. We must also teach them that killing the unborn is never an option...and it is never an option to suggest it to a young woman. If we can teach our children those things, abortions will cease to exist. We won't have to fight powerhouses like Planned Parenthood because there won't be money to be had in the abortion business anymore. If we can change the hearts of Americans, then we can change laws...but not until then.
I have included the short movie here. I welcome your comments!
Warning!: some graphic images
Monday, April 18, 2011
Evangelizing the Passion of the Christ
THE PASSION OF THE CHRIST
Last week, I was reading an excellent new blog posting by Jimmy Akin ( JIMMY AKIN.ORG ) about the priests' duty to call on parishioners to evangelize. When one thinks of evangelizing, one probably does not first think of a Catholic; maybe a Southern Baptist or a Pentecostal or a Jehovah's Witness or a Mormon...but not generally a Catholic. We fall short in trying to spread the Good News of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Why is this? Why are we shy to speak about Jesus' saving grace? Why should we not ask a friend, coworker, neighbor, family member, or a fallen away Catholic to come to Mass with us? Jesus established His Church over 2000 years ago. He founded it with Peter, our first Pope. It is through His church that we find Him, our Savior.
Two days after reading the blog, my oldest son and I went to see the 8th grade reenact the Stations of the Cross. We mostly went to see some old friends, as my son had graduated from that school just last year, as well as getting me out of the house with the baby for an hour or so. What I didn't plan on was how the reenactment of the Passion by a group of 8th graders moved me. My mind kept wandering to scenes from the movie, "The Passion of the Christ." I identify so much with Mary as a mother of a son. I still have great difficulty watching certain scenes from that movie in which Mary is portrayed. Her pain is unfathomable to me. I cannot imagine watching my beautiful son that I carried in my womb and nursed and raised and loved be crucified...humiliated, beaten, and crucified.
Those who were closest to Jesus were so passionate about spreading His story - the story of his life, death, and resurrection. They were so passionate, in fact, that they were willing to lay down their life for it without hesitation. They actually considered it an honor to do so. My pastor spoke today about having that passion within us - being passionate about our Lord. Jimmy Akin would have been proud of him. Even though he did not specifically tell us to go and evangelize, what better way for him to evangelize to us than to speak with such fire and conviction - at times yelling with PASSION!
So I began to think about the blog, the stations, the homily, the Passion, and I wondered how much better would we be as Catholics if we had witnessed the birth, life, death, and resurrection of our Lord, Jesus Christ? How would our lives be different? How much would you really care about the traffic, the weather, your emails, your looks, politics, or differences of opinions? What would you be doing differently? How passionately would you be out every day trying to spread the Good News? Wouldn't you spend every waking hour thinking of Jesus and what he had done for you? Wouldn't you miss Him and pray for His return? Wouldn't you worry for all the souls who saw and did not believe? Wouldn't you worry for all the souls who never saw and didn't know? Wouldn't you be trying to tell them every detail? And wouldn't you be doing it passionately? As Catholics, we are called to believe without seeing. It is our duty to spread the news that God sent His only Son to earth to save us from sin...that He loves us so much that He suffered and died for us so that we may have eternal life with Him. We begin Holy week now. Now is our chance to turn all of our attention to the one who was sent for us. Easter is coming. It is the day we are finally allowed to say once again, "Hallelujah!" Spread the Good News as if you have seen, and be passionate about our Christ - He is passionate about you!
"Eight days later, his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. The doors were shut, but Jesus came and stood among them, and said, 'Peace be with you.' Then he said to Thomas, 'Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side; do not be faithless, but believing.' Thomas answered him, 'My Lord and my God!' Jesus said to him, 'You have believed because you have seen me. Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe.' " -John 20:26-29
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
As if Sexualization of Tweens Wasn't Enough...Here Come the Dolls from Hell
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| Monster High dolls as seen at my local Target (glare on glass case from lights) |
My five year old son today in Target said (with horror in his voice), "Why would anyone make such scary looking dolls for little girls??!!" My response, "I don't know...frightening."
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| Up close you can see the fangs and other scary facial features |
Last week, I saw a commercial on TV for a new line of Barbie-sized dolls called "Monster High Dolls". I then received a mailer from Target advertising these dolls. I had to see them in person. I naively thought my nice suburban Target would not carry dolls like these. Not only do they carry them, but they are prominently displayed in a glass case on one of the "girl aisles". I could not believe my eyes...dolls for young girls that actively promote evil and sexualization of tweens all wrapped up in one. They have fangs, very pale skin, large eyes (like the Bratz dolls), and sport call-girl type clothing. Apparently, the dolls are based on a series of books about teen children of famous monsters like Dracula, Frankenstein, etc. The premise sounds harmless, as we had Scooby Doo back in the day...but I can promise you these dolls are not harmless.
Everywhere we look today, young girls are bombarded with the notion that if they don't look "sexy" they will not get anywhere in life - they won't get the right guy, they won't get the fancy car or house, and ultimately they will not be happy. For a number of years, one of the most popular high school graduation presents from a girl's parents was breast enhancement. That's right, what would become of a young lady going off to college without it? The sexualization of young girls in our society has reached an insane level.
Little girls are the ones who love to play with Barbie and dolls like Barbie. I had Barbies growing up, and I'm sure they don't convey the right message to young girls either, but at least they didn't have fangs and dress like street walkers! This new set of dolls are aimed at very young girls and are encouraging them to become desensitized to the evil world. An entire generation of young women will have only known the likes of "Twilight" and "Monster High". An entire generation is growing up with this as their "norm". They are becoming desensitized to inappropriate dress, inappropriate actions, and most importantly...evil. If you think these movies and books have no bearing on teen life, think again. There have been many cases of teens biting other teens just because it looked "cool" and "sexy" in "Twilight". It's anything but...it's frightening.
As parents, we must oppose this as becoming our daughters' norm. It is not normal. It is anything but normal for young girls to have fantasy play about teen monsters who dress in short skirts, midriff baring tops, fishnet stockings, and platform high heeled shoes. This is definitely not the type of fantasy play I would ever want for my daughter.
I have absolutely no doubt that Satan has always wanted to destroy the family unit and what better way than to reduce the amount of mothers and children? When young girls grow up thinking that their only worth is through materialism and external looks, why would they ever want to give themselves completely over to their children and families? That probably sounds a little too difficult for today's narcissistic young lady. Girls today are taught that they are in complete control of their sexuality and this will give them power. But what kind of control? Birth control? Ability to wear short skirts or shorts the size of a bikini bottom? They are ultimately left with an emptiness inside that only listening to their true femininity would fulfill. They are cheapening themselves when they behave this way, and it does a number on their self esteem.
God designed young girls to become the nurturers of our society. Without nurturing mothers, what will become of our future children? Satan will surely have won if he can destroy the God-given role of a woman. Love your daughters, teach them to love God, to listen to their hearts, and to stay FAR away from anything even remotely evil. If you open that door, you are inviting evil into your home. You don't want to do it...trust me, I have seen the destruction that demons can do once you let them in. If we buy into the commercialism of evil, we are surely and literally playing with fire!
Saturday, March 26, 2011
This Lent, Listen in the Quiet
I don't believe anything in life is a coincidence. I am currently reading C.S. Lewis' Screwtape Letters, and am finding his words to be immensely profound. In fact, he was a genius or divinely inspired or both. The "letters" are supposed to be written from one of Satan's demons to another younger, more junior, demon. He is giving him advice on how to turn a human being's heart away from God - or as he calls Him the Enemy. They are fascinating because I see some of myself in them, people I know, and society at large. We all go through periods in life when we purposely turn away from God or we turn away sprung from apathy or ignorance.
As a society, I see signs everywhere of more and more people turning away from Christ and his Church and towards a more muddled type of "spiritualism". People are wanting to pick and choose what they believe. And you can hardly blame the human being for wanting to do this, as we are programmed to desire freedom. We, as Americans, grow up knowing our freedoms and rights and we will fight for them - as our ancestors did. However, when it comes to Christ's Church, there is one...and we are called to submit. That's a tough one for a lot of people, thus the venture into the murky waters of empty promises on behalf of preachers with no authority and new age "spiritualism".
Christ is always calling us. He wants us to be near Him...spending time with Him. How can we if we clutter our lives with the "busy"ness and the noise. Think about how much noise we listen to during a day. It may occur in the form of your job, the traffic outside, your neighbor's lawn care (or lack of it), your pets, your phones, your television, your computer, conversations with friends and family, etc. How can we hear Christ's calling if we are listening to so many other things? There is a bit in the "Letters" about how much Satan has a hard time when we as humans are in a quiet space and are giving ourselves completely over to God...just listening. It is in the quiet that we hear God's answers and we feel Christ near us.
Where else better to be quiet with Christ than in adoration? As Catholics, we are the only Christians on the planet lucky enough to actually sit with our Lord in adoration. His presence is immediately felt the moment you walk into a church or chapel where the blessed sacrament is exposed. The church will be silent. There will be others in there praying. Jesus is wholly there for each of them...and for you. I never walk out of adoration feeling more confused or sad or alone. I always walk out feeling renewed, inspired, and not alone. He is with us and He is always calling us. It is up to us to use our free will to turn to Him and tune out the noise. Demons want us to listen to the noise because it distracts us and pulls us farther away from our Father's home. I ask that every Catholic find out the hours of adoration at your local parish and spend time with our Lord. Spend time in the quiet. Listen. Listen to what's in your heart because God is there. Jesus will be with you in that chapel or church - completely present. What a gift our Church has for us - the followers of Christ. Take the gift this Lenten season. You will not be sorry. In Matthew's account of the Agony in the Garden (Mt 26:36-46), Jesus brings his disciples with Him to watch over Him while He prayed. When He was done praying, He found them all asleep. He said to Peter, "So you could not keep watch with me for one hour?" Jesus is calling you to be awake, to be in the quiet, and to listen to Him.
As a society, I see signs everywhere of more and more people turning away from Christ and his Church and towards a more muddled type of "spiritualism". People are wanting to pick and choose what they believe. And you can hardly blame the human being for wanting to do this, as we are programmed to desire freedom. We, as Americans, grow up knowing our freedoms and rights and we will fight for them - as our ancestors did. However, when it comes to Christ's Church, there is one...and we are called to submit. That's a tough one for a lot of people, thus the venture into the murky waters of empty promises on behalf of preachers with no authority and new age "spiritualism".
Christ is always calling us. He wants us to be near Him...spending time with Him. How can we if we clutter our lives with the "busy"ness and the noise. Think about how much noise we listen to during a day. It may occur in the form of your job, the traffic outside, your neighbor's lawn care (or lack of it), your pets, your phones, your television, your computer, conversations with friends and family, etc. How can we hear Christ's calling if we are listening to so many other things? There is a bit in the "Letters" about how much Satan has a hard time when we as humans are in a quiet space and are giving ourselves completely over to God...just listening. It is in the quiet that we hear God's answers and we feel Christ near us.
Where else better to be quiet with Christ than in adoration? As Catholics, we are the only Christians on the planet lucky enough to actually sit with our Lord in adoration. His presence is immediately felt the moment you walk into a church or chapel where the blessed sacrament is exposed. The church will be silent. There will be others in there praying. Jesus is wholly there for each of them...and for you. I never walk out of adoration feeling more confused or sad or alone. I always walk out feeling renewed, inspired, and not alone. He is with us and He is always calling us. It is up to us to use our free will to turn to Him and tune out the noise. Demons want us to listen to the noise because it distracts us and pulls us farther away from our Father's home. I ask that every Catholic find out the hours of adoration at your local parish and spend time with our Lord. Spend time in the quiet. Listen. Listen to what's in your heart because God is there. Jesus will be with you in that chapel or church - completely present. What a gift our Church has for us - the followers of Christ. Take the gift this Lenten season. You will not be sorry. In Matthew's account of the Agony in the Garden (Mt 26:36-46), Jesus brings his disciples with Him to watch over Him while He prayed. When He was done praying, He found them all asleep. He said to Peter, "So you could not keep watch with me for one hour?" Jesus is calling you to be awake, to be in the quiet, and to listen to Him.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
What Else Can A Mom Give Up This Lent?
I have been racking my brain for days now over what I would give up for Lent. I would like to say weeks instead of days, but I would most definitely be lying as I've only just been in survival mode the last few weeks since the birth of our fourth child. So, for days I have had a difficult time coming up with my answer. Today was Ash Wednesday and instead of continuing to find that answer, I decided to ponder why I was having such a difficult time. I couldn't remember a year when I had so much trouble coming up with what I would give up.
After picking up my son from his preschool classroom today with my two year old son holding one hand, my preschooler holding the other, and my baby girl strapped to my chest, I slowly managed to make my way into the parking lot and towards my car. Of course just getting halfway there took us easily ten minutes because as any mother of boys knows, you have to let them walk across every curb like it's a high wire act and then watch them jump off with wild zeal while holding your breath that no one will end up in the emergency room. While in the parking lot, I ran into not one, but three friends who all were there to attend the Ash Wednesday prayer service which had just begun at our church. I, of course, denied myself that experience because the thought of being in a quiet church with a five year old who might blurt out that he's bored, my two year old who might scream for no particular reason, and my newborn who might suddenly cry from gas pains or needing to be nursed...well, let's just say it wasn't an option for me today.
My friends made their way into the church and I continued on our journey to the car. By the time we were arriving at our final destination, I saw everyone coming back out of the church with ashes on their foreheads. I must admit, I looked at them all with such envy. "Look at all those people without little ones in tow who can just walk into the church so carefree and receive such a blessing." Well, I thought God surely recognized my sacrifice and I'd try to attend next year. Just then, my friends came out and told me that our priest was still giving out ashes in the church and I could just go in to receive them. It was like you had told me they were handing out the winning lottery ticket inside the church. I made a beeline for the doors, and well, you know how fast I was moving with a little one on each hand and one strapped to the front. We went as fast as we could and by the time I opened the doors to the church, it was empty. My lottery ticket had been given away. Another friend came around the corner and said, "Katherine, Father is giving ashes in the courtyard." We made our way to the courtyard and there he was. He blessed all of us, even baby girl in the front pack. I left our church with my lottery ticket on my forehead for all the world to see. I was a happy girl!
Driving home, I still pondered why I was having such a hard time coming up with my one "thing" I would "give up." And then I thought about my experience just trying to get to my car and then to get our ashes. I realized that mothers constantly give up of themselves on a daily basis. And when we have newborns in the house, it is difficult to even imagine how much more we can possibly give up of ourselves. I have given up my sleep, long showers, eating while sitting, my ability to keep my shirt clean all day, my youthful body, a clean house, and sleeping with my husband in the same bed (as he always ends up moving into the guest room for the first four months of our baby's life). We give our lives to our children and most parents would say (once their children are grown and gone) they'd do it again and again.
Even though we give up much, I am reminded that God calls each of us to be saints. I know there is more that I can do. I think I'll start by doing something nice for my church's office staff and priests, as they did so much for me in preparation for our Walk for Life. I will try to pray at least one decade of the rosary for all the women in the world who are contemplating abortion that they choose life over death and that their minds are turned towards the love their child will bring. I will pray for my family more - especially my parents and sister with whom I have no relationship. I will pray to St.Michael the Archangel for strength. And I will pray that I only show love, compassion, and patience towards my children and husband. Lent is about being in the desert, about living through Christ's Passion. There is nothing I can do to measure what He has done for me. At this extremely demanding and busy moment in my life, I will try to tackle this Lenten plan and adhere to it...as if my life depended on it. Please pray for me.
After picking up my son from his preschool classroom today with my two year old son holding one hand, my preschooler holding the other, and my baby girl strapped to my chest, I slowly managed to make my way into the parking lot and towards my car. Of course just getting halfway there took us easily ten minutes because as any mother of boys knows, you have to let them walk across every curb like it's a high wire act and then watch them jump off with wild zeal while holding your breath that no one will end up in the emergency room. While in the parking lot, I ran into not one, but three friends who all were there to attend the Ash Wednesday prayer service which had just begun at our church. I, of course, denied myself that experience because the thought of being in a quiet church with a five year old who might blurt out that he's bored, my two year old who might scream for no particular reason, and my newborn who might suddenly cry from gas pains or needing to be nursed...well, let's just say it wasn't an option for me today.
My friends made their way into the church and I continued on our journey to the car. By the time we were arriving at our final destination, I saw everyone coming back out of the church with ashes on their foreheads. I must admit, I looked at them all with such envy. "Look at all those people without little ones in tow who can just walk into the church so carefree and receive such a blessing." Well, I thought God surely recognized my sacrifice and I'd try to attend next year. Just then, my friends came out and told me that our priest was still giving out ashes in the church and I could just go in to receive them. It was like you had told me they were handing out the winning lottery ticket inside the church. I made a beeline for the doors, and well, you know how fast I was moving with a little one on each hand and one strapped to the front. We went as fast as we could and by the time I opened the doors to the church, it was empty. My lottery ticket had been given away. Another friend came around the corner and said, "Katherine, Father is giving ashes in the courtyard." We made our way to the courtyard and there he was. He blessed all of us, even baby girl in the front pack. I left our church with my lottery ticket on my forehead for all the world to see. I was a happy girl!
Driving home, I still pondered why I was having such a hard time coming up with my one "thing" I would "give up." And then I thought about my experience just trying to get to my car and then to get our ashes. I realized that mothers constantly give up of themselves on a daily basis. And when we have newborns in the house, it is difficult to even imagine how much more we can possibly give up of ourselves. I have given up my sleep, long showers, eating while sitting, my ability to keep my shirt clean all day, my youthful body, a clean house, and sleeping with my husband in the same bed (as he always ends up moving into the guest room for the first four months of our baby's life). We give our lives to our children and most parents would say (once their children are grown and gone) they'd do it again and again.
Even though we give up much, I am reminded that God calls each of us to be saints. I know there is more that I can do. I think I'll start by doing something nice for my church's office staff and priests, as they did so much for me in preparation for our Walk for Life. I will try to pray at least one decade of the rosary for all the women in the world who are contemplating abortion that they choose life over death and that their minds are turned towards the love their child will bring. I will pray for my family more - especially my parents and sister with whom I have no relationship. I will pray to St.Michael the Archangel for strength. And I will pray that I only show love, compassion, and patience towards my children and husband. Lent is about being in the desert, about living through Christ's Passion. There is nothing I can do to measure what He has done for me. At this extremely demanding and busy moment in my life, I will try to tackle this Lenten plan and adhere to it...as if my life depended on it. Please pray for me.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
My Baby Girl's Hands
Exactly one month ago today, I held my fourth baby in my arms for the first time. I finally held my baby girl...my daughter! I couldn't believe it when my doctor said, "Girl!" I looked at my husband and said, "What?" He said, "It's a girl, it's a girl." I cried so hard I'm pretty sure I should have installed windshield wipers on my eyes because even when they held her up, I couldn't see her through all the tears. I knew she was beautiful...and I knew she was mine.
I think every time a parent holds his or her child for the first time, they just want to study all those tiny details and memorize them - the tiny nose, eyes, cheeks, lips, eyebrows, eyelashes, and every hair on that head. I would close my eyes and try to see all the details in my mind so that I would never forget. As well as memorizing all those facial features, I know I always want to see my baby's hands and feet. They're so delicate; so tiny. Those fingers immediately close around my giant finger as if to say, "don't ever let me go." It is the sweetest moment to feel my baby's hand wrapped around my finger.
My newborn daughter's hands are a carbon copy of my own...only much smaller. My father always used to tell me that the first thing he noticed about me after my arrival into this world was my hands. He said he would hold me and just look at my hands and wonder what on earth I would do with those long fingers. He would dream of all the things I could do with my hands. It's ironic to me that he would love my hands so much because they are his hands - only the feminine version. And his hands were his father's. I remember my grandfather's hands very well. It is one of the things I remember about him most even though he passed away when I was very young. His hands were strong, but gentle. They showed his age and his life's work as a photographer for sure. His compassion and love for me as his granddaughter showed in his deeds - done with his hands. My father's hands looked just like my grandfather's, only the younger version. I loved holding on to my father's hand. I knew he'd never let me go.
So, my daughter has those hands now. I look at them and I see my family. I see myself, my father, and my grandfather. Like my father, I too look at her hands and those beautiful long fingers and wonder what she will do with them. What will she create with them? Who will she hug with them? Who will one day ask for one of those hands in marriage? Will she too look at her baby's hands and see her own?
I have been waiting to meet my daughter for a very long time...actually all my life. I have three beautiful sons, whom I love with every fiber of my being, but there is something unique to the mother/daughter relationship. I always knew she was in heaven waiting to join our family. I knew I needed to trust the Lord and His timing. She's finally here. I finally get to look her in the eyes every day and see a future for her. I finally get to hold her hand and tell her I love her, and I'll always protect her. I finally get to look at her hands and see a piece of myself that she will always have. Perhaps, when she is older and is gardening or writing or praying or cooking or sewing or hugging her own children, she will notice her hands and she will see me. Hopefully, she'll see me and feel in her heart the immense love I have for her, have always had for her, and will always have for her. God gave me this incredible gift. I am blessed. My family is blessed.
I think every time a parent holds his or her child for the first time, they just want to study all those tiny details and memorize them - the tiny nose, eyes, cheeks, lips, eyebrows, eyelashes, and every hair on that head. I would close my eyes and try to see all the details in my mind so that I would never forget. As well as memorizing all those facial features, I know I always want to see my baby's hands and feet. They're so delicate; so tiny. Those fingers immediately close around my giant finger as if to say, "don't ever let me go." It is the sweetest moment to feel my baby's hand wrapped around my finger.
My newborn daughter's hands are a carbon copy of my own...only much smaller. My father always used to tell me that the first thing he noticed about me after my arrival into this world was my hands. He said he would hold me and just look at my hands and wonder what on earth I would do with those long fingers. He would dream of all the things I could do with my hands. It's ironic to me that he would love my hands so much because they are his hands - only the feminine version. And his hands were his father's. I remember my grandfather's hands very well. It is one of the things I remember about him most even though he passed away when I was very young. His hands were strong, but gentle. They showed his age and his life's work as a photographer for sure. His compassion and love for me as his granddaughter showed in his deeds - done with his hands. My father's hands looked just like my grandfather's, only the younger version. I loved holding on to my father's hand. I knew he'd never let me go.
So, my daughter has those hands now. I look at them and I see my family. I see myself, my father, and my grandfather. Like my father, I too look at her hands and those beautiful long fingers and wonder what she will do with them. What will she create with them? Who will she hug with them? Who will one day ask for one of those hands in marriage? Will she too look at her baby's hands and see her own?
I have been waiting to meet my daughter for a very long time...actually all my life. I have three beautiful sons, whom I love with every fiber of my being, but there is something unique to the mother/daughter relationship. I always knew she was in heaven waiting to join our family. I knew I needed to trust the Lord and His timing. She's finally here. I finally get to look her in the eyes every day and see a future for her. I finally get to hold her hand and tell her I love her, and I'll always protect her. I finally get to look at her hands and see a piece of myself that she will always have. Perhaps, when she is older and is gardening or writing or praying or cooking or sewing or hugging her own children, she will notice her hands and she will see me. Hopefully, she'll see me and feel in her heart the immense love I have for her, have always had for her, and will always have for her. God gave me this incredible gift. I am blessed. My family is blessed.
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