First First Friday

For the past two months or so I have been glimpsing hearts everywhere. Just little hearts made out of a variety of substances at odd times throughout the day, nearly every day. I've been taking it as little proofs that God loves me, and he's winking at me. He's pointing me toward his Sacred Heart. I decided last week that for Lent I'm going to begin doing a First Friday devotion to the Sacred Heart. Today I went to my first ever (!) daily Mass! I don't have high theology or beautiful prose about it. I'm just going to tell you my testimony in traditional Rachel fashion, of how I let God love me today.

I was initially very nervous to go to daily Mass with a toddler. I knew that they hold daily Mass in a little chapel off to the side of the main church and that I would not be able to be invisible in the crowd. I thought old ladies would give me dirty looks when the child started making noise, and maybe I would have to take her out. I knew my only option would be to attend the 8 AM Mass, and I was nervous because Lillian usually takes a nap right around 8 AM. The first way I saw God love me was that my girl slept almost an hour later than usual this morning, pushing nap time until after I knew Mass would be over. I felt like he encouraged me to go ahead and go to Mass as planned.

What I did not expect was that when I walked into the chapel today, the only seat left untaken was directly in front of the altar. If I'd had my choice, I would have gone in a very back corner. God had other plans, he saved me a seat right in front. Clearly, he wants me to increase in humility. I felt very visible in the front, holding a squirmy baby (the only child at Mass) and veiled. Still, I was in the Divine Mercy Chapel directly in front of a huge image of the Kazimirowski Divine Mercy. It reminded me why I was there.

The Mass started with the first day of a novena to St. Joseph. My being at this Mass seemed somewhat providential. Yesterday I began my plan to read the book of Matthew during lent. I had meditated on the faith of St. Joseph, the way he put his full trust in God even when God seemed to change plans with very little notice. The novena prayer talked in part about this very thing! It seemed really fitting that I was there to witness and hear this prayer.

The Mass went on as usual. I did my best to listen and control my child at the same time (please, don't quiz me on the readings!). She tried to rip my veil off a couple of times, but for the most part Lilly did well. I did not receive any dirty looks. The baby and I received only smiles and graciousness. These all seem like such little things, but the whole experience seemed a gift from God. I went to console the heart of Jesus, but He ended up consoling mine.

Enough

With eyes fixed on God, things which seemed too little suddenly become enough. I'm sure I've read this concept somewhere, but praying this morning it really came to the fore. When we rely on His providence, one way in which He works is to sow in our hearts contentment and gratitude for the meager pickings. 

I kept seeing Mary content and joyful within her strange situation, her unplanned pregnancy that must have thrown a monkey wrench in her plans. The infant Christ laid in bare wood and scratchy hay of a feed trough. It was enough. The family sent to Egypt with who-knows-what to get by. The years of Jesus's life leading up to his ministry in which he probably encountered seasons of scarcity and hunger...but it was enough.

I know that sometimes it's my focus which gets me into trouble. I want to self-medicate the anxiety or sadness with food or buying or going or doing. I ought to throw all of my cares onto Him, because He cares about me (1 Peter 5:7). But I often turn to creatures, nonetheless. When the cupboards are a little bare it's difficult to find those little creature-comforts to give me a lift. My focus is off, and I know it.

I have lately been captivated by the image of St. John of the Cross in a dark, cramped little closet looking lovingly at a little patch of light streaming in from above. The focus on Christ which makes everything else incidental. 

Incidentally, you know what else is enough? Me, myself. God has given me a certain temperament, personality, talents, gifts, abilities. That's enough, too, when I trust that He has given me what I need to fulfill His plan in my life. Plus knowing that He gives abundant grace as needed.

"O my Jesus, keep me near to You! See how weak I am! I cannot go a step forward by myself; so You, Jesus, must stand by me constantly like a mother by a helpless child--and even more so."- Divine Mercy in My Soul, 264.

Oh, Baby

Lillian turned a year old last Saturday, so in a fit of I-don't-know-what-to-write here are the things that I would tell myself if I went back in time a la Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure.


1. Pregnancy exercise. Keep doing it even though it's a pain to make it to the park and walk every day. A time will come and you will not be able to walk two whole laps without your porky legs seizing up.

2. Pre-natal Yoga. Don't buy that DVD. You won't magically enjoy yoga now that you're pregnant. It's boring and will mostly be used as building block by the baby after birth.

3. Natural Labor. You can do it. But you should not be going through transition in a cramped Toyota Corolla. You should probably get to the birth center before you are a 9 and make them fill up that big tub!

4. Baby Socks. Just get white ones. She will rip socks off and discard them in odd locations. She will attempt to discard socks in the middle of the grocery store. In the car. At Grandma's house. In the yard. A matching pair will cease to exist in your house, although you will have tiny feet bearing two adorable un-matching socks. Always.

5. Baby Tubs. They're a pain. Soap buildup is yucky. Just get a bath mat and set that into the regular tub. It uses more water but it's 1000 times less annoying.

6. Baby clothes. Don't fold them. It wastes your time. The onesies which become victims of heinous poosplosions should be respectfully laid to rest as  brave soldiers who have fallen in battle. Seriously, that yellow stain is not going to come out.

7. Babywise. Go ahead and read that book. Get some tips from it. You don't have to follow everything it says and get stressed out when things aren't going that way. Use your instincts and everything will be fine.

8. Baby food. Just mash up some veggies and stuff. Those little jars are too expensive and bland. Eventually she will refuse to eat them and you will have a basket-full of useless can-flavored, limp vegetables sitting on a shelf.

9. Nursing bras. Don't bother trying to find an affordable nursing bra that is supportive and fits. It's a lot easier to just buy some snapping pieces and modify a bra that you already have.

Betrayal of Creation

Praying the Sorrowful Mysteries this week I couldn't help thinking about the scandalous humility of Jesus. He humbled himself not only below his human creatures, but the whole of beautiful creation turned into instruments of His torture. And He opened not His mouth.

The tips of the thorns piercing the skin of His forehead. The leather fashioned into a scourge for His back. The bits of metal, iron or fiber fastening Him to the pillar. The woven fibers in the purple cloth mockingly clothing Him. The gravity weighing him down as he ascended to Golgotha. The wood of the cross beam digging into His aching shoulders. The harsh gravel and rocks meeting his poor knees as He fell. The iron of the nails driven into His hands and feet. Gravity again tearing His wounds and making it nearly impossible to breathe as His beautiful arms outstretched on the cross. The creation which was once so good, stripped of its goodness and used for evil. The creatures have rebelled against their Creator, and He let them because of Love.

And He did it for me. So I could have mercy and grace and love and be a child of God and a relationship with the Father despite my sinfulness.

O Blood and Water, which gushed forth from the heart of Jesus as a fount of mercy for us, I trust in You!

 

Anyway, some saint has probably written about this more completely and coherently. If so, I would love to find such a thing.

Lent Plans

Maybe it's strange, but I'm actually looking forward to Lent this year. Last year I started out strong. I decided that my sacrifice would be to pray for others more than I pray for myself. It was a really good goal. Things went pretty well with it until I had my baby 10 days in and my prayer life devolved to, "God, please make this baby go to sleep help this baby get the rest she needs," and, "God, please make this baby stop crying," and "God, please make nursing not hurt any more." All prayer came from the trenches of survival-mode. I didn't have to observe the fasts because I was nursing. I couldn't even get things synchronized enough to go to Mass for the majority of Lent.

Lent in 2012 was a prayerful, happy time because I knew that at the end of the season I would be baptized and received into the Church. Still, I missed out on a lot. I didn't go to church on Ash Wednesday and receive ashes because I wasn't sure if it was only for baptized Catholics or not. During Holy Week I attended Mass, but I didn't come forward to kiss the crucifix because it felt strange to do so without being a baptized Catholic. I was living in that divine sense of "almost" and not able to really participate. The intensity of knees hitting the kneelers and hands clasped, knuckles white stemmed from the joyful anticipation that I would soon be able to receive the best gift of all.

My plan of action this year is to go on a personal spending freeze. That is, buy nothing for myself for the forty days and donate my "fun money" to charity. It looks a little feeble when I write it out. Maybe as a special treat I will go to Mass childless at the church in which I was baptized during holy week and Easter. Ah, dreams.

Several days ago I ordered some leather sandals from Israel. They fit my "strappy brown sandals" category on my minimalist wardrobe list. I didn't intentionally look for "Jesus shoes", but when searching for strappy brown sandals on Amazon these were actually the type that I liked (and could afford, btw). Maybe during Lent I will wear only these shoes as a penance reminder!

Monastic

Last week I bought A Monk's Alphabet by Jeremy Driscoll, OSB for $0.50 at a used library book sale (San Antonio Public Library's Book Cellar for anyone local). I judged it by the cute bird and alphabet collage on the cover, and so far I have been really happy to have picked it up. In fact, it inspired me to participate in this 7 posts in 7 days challenge. A Monk's Alphabet is composed of a series of short essays on a number of topics, arranged alphabetically by keyword. So far I have underlined the entire selection on "Monastic" because it seems to perfectly describe the purpose of my writing:

"Monastic. I should study and read and perhaps also write primarily with a view toward keeping my own relationship with God intact. If something is produced for others as well by my working in this way, so much the better. This is the monastic way of doing theology."

I have felt a little guilty before about writing primarily for me, but doing so ultimately benefits my family and others who I come in contact with in real life. Blogging has helped my faith life grow, and my prayer become more fruitful. A right relationship with God flows into better relationships with other people, especially my husband and daughter. Big things and little things retain their proper perspective when measured against the majesty of God.

It made me me think more about my domestic monastery here at home. I have felt the pull toward having less to do with technology during the day. I have canceled my Facebook and cut back on Twitter. I usually don't watch television during the day. My weakness is audio distraction via podcasts and Guadalupe Radio. The past couple of weeks I have tried to nurture more daily silence and maybe even adopt a Benedictine attitude of "Ora et Labora". Morning prayer, rosary, Mass readings, evening prayer. I like the rhythm, when I can make such a thing happen (not as often as I'd like).

There is simplicity in the silence. Simplicity in washing the dishes one at a time, hot soapy water full of bubbles for thought. Simplicity sometimes in seeing things at the surface level and not over-analyzing every thought and situation as is my wont. Simplicity in one breath in, one out. In seeing the sun set huge behind a stand of gnarly mesquite. In doing a thing and not wishing to be doing something else. Single-tasking. Simplicity is found in merely being. What a romantic notion.

A Hobbit's Life

"Perfection consists in submitting unreservedly to the designs of God, and in fulfilling the duties of one's state in the most perfect manner possible. To compare the different states as they are in themselves can do nothing to improve us since it is neither in the amount of work, nor in the sort of duties given to us that perfection can be found." - Jean-Pierre de Caussade, Abandonment to Divine Providence

 This quote jumped out at me because of the Scripture at Mass on Sunday. It echoes St. Therese to me as well. I have to keep reminding myself that I can do little things for the glory of God. I have a tendency to look at what others are doing and feeling as though I am not doing enough, like God leaves all the work to His feisty ones. But I am not feisty. I am slow to move, more likely to endlessly contemplate a problem than to act to change it. I always think that my phlegmatic temperament is a huge handicap, and it probably does come with tendencies and habits which should be sometimes resisted. I've wished that I was more like St. Peter who seems to act before thinking. But I suppose that God has created us phlegmatics for some reason, and I that the best I can do is to use what God has given me without coveting the responsibilities that are more suited to others. We can't all be cholerics. That would be intense.

Today I suppose I can discover perfection in getting breakfast out in time for my husband to eat it before work (check!), being patient with Lillian (pending!), doing a load of laundry and putting it away, doing the dishes, sweeping the floor, praying. Seems to be a hobbit's life for me (at least for now)!