Time and Space

 It was a bright June day when I started noticing a peculiar habit of Juliana's. Every morning after breakfast, she would run out the front door and sit in the front yard, seemingly doing nothing but staring at the grass. This day was maybe the fifth day in a row she had done it, and as I stood at the window I watched her peaceful, dainty hands stroke the blades of grass. 

The night before my observation, Juliana had lost her earrings for what seemed like the thousandth time. They were the second pair we had to buy her because she had lost the first. She had to use her small amount of allowance to pay for them, and when they went missing she was naturally devastated.  Tears rolled down her cheek as she searched everywhere for the tiny silver hoops that had just arrived the previous day. We asked for St. Anthony's help, but eventually decided it was time for bed before finding them.

The next morning, when Juliana decided to come in from her new morning grass staring ritual, I asked if she wanted to go check eggs with me. As I grasped her delicate hand in mine and stepped onto the back porch, I spotted her tiny earrings laying on the concrete! What a terribly strange place for earrings to be! Great excitement and relief came from Juliana as she quickly snatched them up and held them tightly in her hand. 

"You should thank God and St. Anthony for helping us find those!" I told her.

"I already did", she replied matter of factly.

Surprised, I inquired further. "You thanked them, just now, that quickly?" 

"No, I thanked them when I was in the front yard this morning saying my prayers."

I tried to bring clarity to the situation by asking her if she thanked God for helping before the earrings were found, and she replied that she had. She couldn't seem to understand what was strange about this. I tried to press further, my mind trying to grasp what was going on in my seven year old's spiritual life.  

"What else did you tell God when you were praying?"  

Juliana shrank back from me, her eyes lowered and her voice became quiet and shy, "I don't like to tell people what I pray. I think it's just supposed to be between me and God."

I respected her privacy and grabbed her hand to head towards the chicken coop. After about five paces, she stopped suddenly. "Mommy, I don't really pray to God. I more like talk to God and ask Him questions. I ask Him what He is like and how His ways are and then I try to hear what He says. I only really pray, like ask for things, at church."

I was obviously very shocked to hear my seven year old basically describe contemplative prayer in her own sweet way that day. 

In days since, I have thought a lot about our conversation. I have mostly thought about the gift that time and space is for little children (and maybe big ones too!). If Juliana had been hauled off on a school bus that morning, if she had had an ipad to grab or a daycare to get to, she wouldn't have had the space or the quiet to run into the front yard, stare at the grass and contemplate His ways. It has given me a renewed sense of gratitude for the gift of homeschooling. It renews my firm belief that staying home with your children to witness and be a part of these little moments is worth more than all the money  or earthly prestige in the world. 

Life in a Small Town

The other night I spent a good amount of time reading some older posts on this blog. While it lifted my spirits to read about so many happy memories, the tone of my writing was striking to me. I can read between the lines that there was a simplicity to my life when I first started my blog that no longer exists. My writings seem the be light and cheerful. Life feels heavier now than it did back then. Maybe it's the increase of work with four children as opposed to two, or maybe it's the crosses I have been called to carry, but life is definitely heavier now than it was four years ago.

We are living in a very small town for eight months. Actually we are almost to the end of those eight months and I have written very little about them. When we moved to a small town, I expected something like in the movies where everyone is  kind and warm and inviting.  I was worried that at the end of the eight months there would be another round of painful goodbyes, but I was determined not to let that keep us from making friends. Now that we are almost to the end, I can honestly say there is not one person to say goodbye to. The small town has let me down. People were very friendly when we first moved here, but it was almost like no one needed anyone else. Like because everyone has been here forever, they have their little communities in place and have no need for one more person. I was all but shunned from the homeschooling co-op, and not once were we invited anywhere but to a protestant church. The silver lining in it all is that I have definitely learned that I prefer to live near a bigger city. It's a good thing to know about oneself.

We bought a house last month. It's out in the country and on five acres. We moved away from family and friends back to Oklahoma to pursue this "land and farm" lifestyle that we know very little about. I can feel that God's hand has been in every part of getting us here, and I know that owning land and having animals has been on both Max and my heart for a very long time. On the normal day where I'm stuck in this 1200 square foot home with none of my own things while the kids go crazy (literally) and I don't have a friend in sight, the faith that we are in the heart of God's will is the only thing that keeps me going. It's strange how we can be hurting and lonely and not necessarily the happiest we have ever been and still know that we are doing His will. What a grace and comfort this is.

These past months have stretched me in ways I haven't been stretched before and I thank God for that. In all the things I have experienced in life (which isn't a ton), I have never really been lonely. But here I am lonely. The few friends I do have live an hour and a half away and my kids aren't in any activities that would foster new friendships. Christ was lonely. All His friends left him in His time of greatest need. And if He was lonely, I can be lonely. This small town cross I have been asked to carry is really small in the grand scheme of things. But even the smallest crosses can be carried with great love if we let Him lead us.

The Heart of The Family

The world weighs heavy on my heart these days. With everything going on in the news and seeing people's responses to the world right now, I feel that we are in a huge boiling pot that is about to explode.

I have talked to other stay at home moms with a struggle I deal with often. The struggle to want to do more. To take our children out into the world and convert the nations. I daydream sometimes about standing on a podium like Martin Luther King Jr. and giving a speech that will change hearts and save lives. I look back on the days when I was able teach confirmation, work with Rachel's Vineyard and pray on the sidewalks at the abortion mill. The days when saying the rosary was easy and going to daily mass was a habit. The days when I could lay down at the end of the day and feel good about what I did.

Here is where the voice of Satan comes in to tell me that being a mom isn't enough. That I should still be doing all the things I used to at the cost of raising my children. But the voice of God whispers in my heart, "Being a mom is enough. Raise the future and do it well." As as stay at home mom, we don't always get to reap the benefits of our work at the end of each day. Some days (most days?), I go to bed feeling inadequate for this job and wondering if all the naps, snacks, endless questions and endless mess really matters. I don't think Mother's really reap their rewards until her children are safe with them in heaven, which requires a lot of patience, self-sacrifice and focus on one's vocation.

But how do I get there? How do I raise a future of saints? If my children hear me talk of self-control often, but then see me down a quart of ice cream in one sitting, what is that teaching them? If I try and teach them to be kind to one another, but myself yell at them several times a day, will they trust what I am saying is even important? In parenting, talk is cheap and I do a lot of talking. If I want my kids to be virtuous I must first live these virtues in our home. As a mom, it's really easy to make excuses. Excuses about why I am not being the best mother I could. Excuses about why I lose my temper or can't get anything done. And while it is true that being a stay at home mom to 3 littles is very challenging, most of the excuses I come up with are a result of my laziness or my lack of focus on the goal; namely heaven. It is only when I give my day completely to God and rely solely on his grace to help me be a good mom that I can lay down at the end of the day and be proud of what was accomplished.

I have seen in recent weeks a huge trend in my family. If I am calm and kind, my children are calm and kind (and my husband too). If I am short-tempered, tired and grumpy the kids go nuts and my husband's temper is shortened as well. It is said that the mother is the heart of the family. If the heart is restless the entire body reacts. If the hearts beats slowly, predictably and in the rhythm God created it to, life and peace will flow from it.

I don't want to regret my children's young years. I don't want to look back and wish I had been nicer and wish I had done something differently. Every day matters because every day is a gift from God. I pray for the grace to be the woman and the mother that He created me to be and to live each day to the fullest.

Out My Window

In Oklahoma my kitchen window looked out to a beautiful lush green area at the top of which was a running trail. Whenever I did the dishes I would watch people as they walked (or ran) by, stealing the little free time they had for exercise. It was inspiring and enjoyable. I always assumed that when we moved to New Mexico I would have to give up my nice view and be content looking into someone else's front yard. Little did I know about the park.

Out my kitchen window is a very large green park. It is really a treat to look at when no one is there and I much prefer it to looking straight at someone else's house. I spend an exorbitant amount of time at the kitchen sink and, while people at the park do sometimes exercise, you really wouldn't believe what else I have seen out that window. During the fall, I watch as teenage boys play psycho football (my name for Rugby) and the spring is usually filled with early football practices for the coming year. On Saturdays there is always the martial arts masters along with several women who enjoy studying under the tree. But more often than not, my kitchen window becomes massively entertaining as we watch and laugh at the crazy things people do at the park. A few months ago I saw a high school kid stop at the park and practice, what looked like, some form of martial arts. Some form he made up himself that is. My sister and I watched for a good thirty minutes, almost peeing our pants. The whole ordeal came to a climax when the young man dramatically swung his arms in a full circle ending them in front of his body and flipping off the world. After that, he picked up his bag and went on his merry way.

Then there is the 10 o'clock sweep. Oh the sweep...Every night at 10 o'clock a police car comes and clears the park. A few times a month we hear him come over his loud speaker and speak some mumble jumble we can't understand. At this point my husband usually flies off the couch and opens our front door to see a teenagers (or oddly enough sometimes an adult) sheepishly get out of one car and into another (often times buttoning their pants on the way) and leave the park.

It amazes me how many people think they are in total privacy  at the park. Just last week there was a couple who literally made me blush by what they were doing underneath a large tree. When things got too hot and heavy they decided to try and hide behind an even larger tree. I could still see them. Clear as day. At this point I closed my blinds and worked in a semi-dark kitchen. It was just too embarrassing, and I wasn't even the one under the tree!

A few days ago we were driving home from church and I saw out of the corner of my eye three adults sitting and chatting at the park. They looked like they were all wearing the same color of pants which I thought was odd, but I only had a glance. Then Max says, "Hey! Did you just see those three adults sitting in a kiddie pool at the park!??!" Sure enough...three adults in a very small kiddie pool at the park. I could go on and on about the things out my window. From the random hot air balloon practices to the annual "spray elementary kids down with the firetruck day" there is always something interesting to see out my window. Maybe I will make it a regular on this blog. But for now, next time you go to a park, know that if there are houses around people might be home and may be able to see whatever it is you are doing.

Housewives and Homemakers

When we first moved to Oklahoma, I was already pregnant and knew I would stay home with our children. Because of this I decided there was no point in finding a job that I would need to quit in a few short months. I would instead stay at home. Most days I would sleep in to my liking, clean up a little around the house and then find somewhere I could go or something I could do. I blamed my need for escape on cabin fever and could not stand spending a whole day in my house.

Now, even with two small children, I tend to do this. Granted, I cannot sleep in anymore, but my days are planned around where I can go that day or what errand I can run to get out of the house. I am constantly stressed about the mess of my house and feel I can never have company over without many hours notice (to clean before they come). The laundry is constantly piled and the toys are never picked up. Every time I walk in the door I feel a mound of stress creep up in my body dreading the massive amount of housework that I should be doing.

For nearly three years I have been a housewife, but I have not by any stretch of the imagination been a homemaker. Now, when I say homemaker, I am not talking about the "home" that you take everywhere with you. Not the "home is where the heart is" home, but the house part of the home. It is time for me to start embracing this part of my vocation as a mother and wife. For the first time in my married life, I am starting to embrace my home. I am enjoying becoming more organized, getting in a cleaning routine, and discovering healthy recipes to cook for my family. It is a wonderful feeling and something I feel God is really working on in my life right now. With this new found love for homemaking comes a drastic realization of what a lost art homemaking is. How many women do you know that keep a nice peaceful home while still cooking healthy meals and tending to cleaning and laundry. I know a few, but not many. I have learned, the hard way, that just because you stay home with your children, doesn't mean you have provided a home for them. I consider this to be a woman's obligation to her family, and an important part of her vocation. Taking care of your children and your home is a full time job, and maybe we have just shoved in too many "extra curricular activities" to be able to enjoy it.

So women, put on your apron, cook a nice homemade meal for your family and enjoy dinner at the table together. These are the memories your children will remember. This is the home they will love to come to. The home that you made for them.