The Quiet Moments

I was driving home the other night and I flipped to a radio station with John Tesh on. I know he is kind of corny, new age-y sometimes, but I enjoy listening to his show. This particular evening he was talking about a new field of study in the world of psychology. This is the second time I have heard this, so it must have some validity to it. Apparently, psychologists are starting to study the effects of all the technology around us on our social behavior. I know, I know, you've heard it before. Texting, Facebook blah, blah blah...

But wait, I swear there was something new and interesting this time. He was talking about something they are calling "social autism". It's basically an inability to actually be with someone and be fully present to them. You can see it all around you...or maybe you do it yourself: texting in the middle of a conversation, carrying your phone EVERYWHERE and even talking to your spouse through technological means while in the same house! We literally are losing the ability to be fully present to anyone at anytime with out the interruption of technology.

He went on to talk about the loss of "quiet moments". You know, the ride up the elevator, the waiting room in the doctors office or the drive to work; moments where we used to just simply be. Turns out these moments are pretty important. Apparently, in these moments our brains sort of re-set and allow us to gather ourselves and continue through the day. Now, especially with those great new phones that do everything but drive your car, every single moment of our day is filled. That 10 second ride up the elevator is now an opportunity to post a quick status update. Waiting for a plane in the airport is now a place to get work done, not meet the person next to you. What are the consequences of these actions? I think they may be a lot bigger than we all think.

Next time you are on the elevator, be a trend setter, and don't take your phone out. Try talking to the people around you at the airport (if you can find one not on a computer). Try intentionally seeking out the quiet moments, even if they are only for a few seconds. The future of human communication depends on it.

First Things First

It takes a lot for me to get interested in a book. I'm a pretty picky reader and I can usually tell by the first ten pages whether I'll like a book or not. When my friend loaned me the book, Consoling the Heart of Jesus by Michael E. Gaitley, MIC, I assumed it would contain nothing new in it; nothing I hadn't read before. On the contrary, this book has done something that hasn't been done in a long time. This book has changed the way I will go about my spiritual life and the way I view getting through the day. Most books I read are lives of the Saints, or other books on spiritual guidance. Although these books encourage me along my journey and give me new ideas as to how better serve Christ, rarely do they completely change my outlook on things, because my outlook is usually in line with the particular author I have picked up.

Consoling the Heart of Jesus is very basic theologically at it's core. Most of it I have read before. But there were two pages that hit me like a ton of bricks. One of those "duh" moments where you think, "Why didn't I know this before?" Lately I have been struggling with making change stick. I go through phases where I want to give up all my vices all at once but fail in a few days if not a few hours. I couldn't, for the life of me figure out why my will was so weak and why I had such a hard time mortifying myself or saying no to the smallest piece of chocolate. I didn't know why I could only make it through a few days of Lent, only to give up on my fast when I used to be able to give up the world for Christ. Do you go through phases of change? Do you try to give up a lot at once and then fall backwards only to be disappointed with yourself when you failed to give up what you had promised? If so, this post is for you (Laura? Diet Coke?). Bear with me because it's going to be long, but if you are like me, it could be life changing. Here are the two excerpts from the book that really helped me:

     "Let's say we've decided to be hard-core. Let's say we're determined to detach ourselves from one of our pesky attachments. Specifically, let's say we've decided to zero in on our detachments to doughnuts. Now then, because we want to have Ignatian indifference, we force ourselves to let go of them...there, we're free. This "freedom", however, only lasts a brief time. The hand shoots for something else: ice cream! Or, as we begin to relax, the doughnuts come back with vengeance as they somehow jump up into our mouths and down into our bellies. No, this isn't the way to become indifferent.
     In striving for indifference, sheer acts of the will won't work - at least not for long. But don't worry, there's hope. There's a secret Ignatius wants to teach us. It's the principle I've already mentioned, 'first things first,' the principle of keeping your eyes fixed on the goal, the first thing. It's the principle St. Peter discovered the hard way when he began to sink into the sea after taking his eyes off Jesus (see Mt. 14:24-31). It's the principle we might call 'the primacy of contemplation,' the primacy of keeping the eyes of our hearts lovingly on the Lord." (page 38)

Here is the Second Quote from the book:
    
     "We just stepped inside a big, Gothic cathedral. The lights are all out, except for one that brightly shines on the main altar. There, in the center of the altar, sending splintering rays in a thousand directions, stands a brilliantly golden monstrance with Jesus in the Eucharist enthroned at it's center. Behold him there as he waits for his friends to come to him. Now look. See that people do come and go. Many ask for something, 'Jesus give me this, help that person, remove this cross...' and then they leave. The Lord Jesus, who is so kind and good, readily gives to them. Now look. St. Therese has just arrived. Observe her prayer as she looks deeply into the heart of Jesus, truly present there in the Blessed Sacrament. What's her attitude toward him? Interesting. Her face is full of compassion. It's as if she sees that this good Lord who gives and gives, sorrowful, and Himself in need of help and consolation. Now listen to what she says.
     Did you catch that? She's not asking Jesus to give to her, rather, she's asking what she can give to him. What an amazing turn!
     As St. Therese gazes on the Eucharistic heart of Jesus, she doesn't see him as if he were a machine into which one puts a coin and then automatically gets graces. Instead, she sees him as living and real. In fact, she sees that he has a human heart. She sees a man who has feelings, a man who is hurt when people are cold, ungrateful, and afraid of Him. So, Therese decides she wants to console his aching Heart, which is so neglected. Like her, why don't we who have been given so much by this good and gently Savior allow our gaze to penetrate more deeply into his Sacred and Eucharistic Heart?" (page 44-45)


You see, for the past few years, I have been focusing more on what and how much I was sacrificing instead of focusing on The One for whom I was sacrificing. I was putting second things first and falling flat on my face every time I failed. And I assure you, if you go about "changing" and sacrificing with your own willpower, you will fail. My view of Christ has been more about what He can do for me rather than what I can do for Him. Giving something up or making a change is easy when you are getting something out of it (i.e. losing weight etc.), but when you are trying to change because you think that God calls you to be a better and different person, you have to know the person you are changing for. This may seem a simple thing, but it is a very difficult in practice. To see Christ as St. Therese does in the above meditation means knowing Christ on such a deeper and more personal level. I think the only way to change it is to stop focusing so much on the "doughnut" and focus more on the Man on the cross. I want to get to know Him more personally as a Man, who walked this earth, wept real tears and felt real pain. My mother's family has always had a great devotion to The Sacred Heart of Jesus, and after reading this book I have felt moved to pick up this devotion (for my non-Catholic readers who have no idea what I am talking about I suggest looking up The Sacred Heart of Jesus and reading my post on offering it up). I feel that the only way I will move towards an attitude of, "what can I offer up for you today Lord" is through a greater understanding and love of His Sacred Heart and a greater desire to offer reparation to that Heart who loves so much and suffers so deeply.

"Behold this Heart which has so loved men that it has spared nothing, even to the point of spending itself and being consumed to prove its love to them." - Jesus to St. Margaret Mary

A Bold Homily

We had a guest priest today at mass. Maybe some of you have heard of him, Fr. McCafrey. If not, I'll explain a little about him. He is an 80 year old, retired army Chaplin priest who travels the world preaching on the harmful effects of contraception and sterilization in marriages and the meaning of the Church's teaching on these matters. Today he also preached on the beatitudes since that was this morning's gospel. I came home so refreshed to have heard such a bold and honest homily. Although his homily was completely counter cultural, it was refreshing for a priest to finally stand up and give a call to action for his people. He spoke beautifully about how the beatitudes are our way to sanctity and how contraception is killing our marriages and our Church. How if we aren't pure of heart and keep sin in our lives, God cannot work fully through us. He spoke about how money becomes our God and overindulgence in worldly things cripples our soul. He called all of us there to start living our faith, because if we did the whole world would change. And lastly he asked those in the parish who had a hard time with the church's teaching to go home, get on their knees, and ask our Lord to open their eyes to His truth.

In the world we live in today, we should be hearing a homily like this every single Sunday. But in the last ten years of my life, I could probably count the number of times on my hand I have heard a homily about sacrifice and becoming saints. Why are our priests so scared? Why do they feel the need to get up to the pulpit every Sunday and give a bunch of fluff and psycho-babble bull honky? The truth is, Christ calls us to "take up our cross" not "feel good all the time". This is what Christianity means. This is what Christianity looks like.

It's not about some feel good praise and worship music or a really awesome and talented preacher. It's about that picture right up there. It's about submitting ourselves to the Father's will like Christ did and living out the sometimes hard truth's of Christianity. Nothing great in life is every easy. So enough of the fluff already. It's time to start embracing our cross, not running from it. It's time to start living our faith, even if we are hated for it. It's time to start denying ourselves instead of giving into every whim and want of our body. It's time to start letting our priests know how much we need the bold, and sometimes hard to hear truth on Sundays. It's time we start living  the beatitudes. Only then will the world start to change; only then will we be saints.

Cleaning House

I have been on a de-cluttering streak lately. My husband, I'm sure, will scream if I ask him if I can throw one more thing away. Although the house is still in a mess, things are starting to find a place and I can finally breath. How is it that we go through life with so much stuff that we don't even know what we own? I was blessed to be raised in a home with a mother who kept absolutely nothing that wasn't needed. She never had the "we may need that someday" mentality that fills boxes of junk in a home. Junk stresses me out. If I don't even know where something is, or where to find it, how am I ever going to use it? Cleaning out my house this week has not been at all sad or difficult; it has been freeing.

There is a lot of freedom in living with less. Less toys (as mentioned in my last post), less "sentimental" things that really will mean nothing to anyone in a few years, and less stuff that we never even knew we had. In the past weeks I was spending most, if not all of my time, cleaning, only to find the house a disaster 5 minutes later. The stress of not having a place to put things was about to put me over the edge. Now, it's true that we live in a very tiny 1200 square foot home, but hey, that's what we are given right now. My new outlook is if we can't fit in the house we live in, then we have too much. For the first time in a long time I feel a weight lifted from my shoulder. There will be no more dread when opening a closet and seeing mass amounts of disorganization and clutter. From now on we will know what we own and where to find it. I have reserved two small storage boxes for my husband and I to keep sentimental things we want to hold on to. If the box is too full to place another item in, it's time to get rid of something else in the box. It's time we start setting boundaries on ourselves in the way we live and the stuff we own. I want to use and enjoy the things I own, not be consumed by it. Most importantly, I want to teach my children that stuff is just that: stuff. I want them to make their attachments to the things of eternity, not the objects in our everyday lives.

Toys Toys Toys

This past Christmas had my husband and I thinking a lot about the things we own, specifically the toys we own. As first time parents we really are clueless as to what kind of toys a two year old likes, and I can count the number of toys on my hand that we have bought for my son. Most of Peanut's toys have been given to him by friends and relatives. The problem is, he doesn't really play with them much. I solved the possibility of having an overwhelming amount of toys by giving many away and putting the rest in organizers and only letting a few toys out at a time. I thought that would do it. Nope, still not playing very much.

On our very long drive back from our Christmas vacation, my husband suggested, once again, that Peanut had too many toys. I argued that he didn't have the right kind of toys. My husband then said something that, in my eyes at least, was very profound, "Peanut has toys he plays with, but not toys he uses to play". Maybe to many of you this sounds crazy or redundant, but it made perfect sense to me. What happened to toys kids use to play and why are they so rare and hard to find?

Try walking down a toy isle and finding a toy that doesn't sing, talk, dance, light up or fly. There is a very small selection. Who needs imagination when a toy action figure now talks, lights up and moves for the kid? Moreover, think about your favorite toys as a child. Were they the ones that made the most noise or had the most lights? No, our favorite toys growing up were the ones that we created. The simple stuffed animal that could be a rocket man, doctor or baby at any given point. The toys that had personality and characteristics that we invented and only we knew the extent of. Toys today come talking and walking with a personality of their own, leaving no room for imagination.

When we got home, we cleared out most of our sons toys that sing, dance and that he hardly plays with. We then took some Christmas money my mother had given to him specifically for toys, and headed to the toy store. We paid a higher dollar for the quality wooden and plain toys we bought, but found comfort knowing that they would stimulated Peanut and Miss Belle's imagination for years to come. One particular toy we bought was a little dump truck with a man sitting in the front seat. No sounds, whistles or motors. Peanut says he's the trash man. He hasn't put the thing down in two days.

Mary's Prayer

A priest gave this writing by Max Lucado as his homily a few Christmas's ago, and it touched me very deeply. I hope it touches you in some way too. Have a blessed and Merry Christmas, and may the baby Jesus find a place to rest his tiny head in the stillness of your heart this Christmas day.

God. O infant-God. Heaven’s fairest child. Conceived by the union of divine grace with our disgrace. Sleep well.

Sleep well. Bask in the coolness of this night bright with diamonds. Sleep well, for the heat of anger simmers nearby. Enjoy the silence of the crib, for the noise of confusion rumbles in your future. Savor the sweet safety of my arms, for a day is soon coming when I cannot protect you.

Rest well, tiny hands. For though you belong to a king, you will touch no satin, own no gold. You will grasp no pen, guide no brush. No, your tiny hands are reserved for works more precious:

to touch a leper’s open wound,

to wipe a widow’s weary tear,

to claw the ground of Gethsemane.
Your hands, so tiny, so white - clutched tonight in an infant’s fist. They aren’t destined to hold a scepter nor wave from a palace balcony. They are reserved instead for a Roman spike that will staple them to a Roman cross.

Sleep deeply, tiny eyes. Sleep while you can. For soon the blurriness will clear and you will see the mess we have made of your world.
You will see our nakedness, for we cannot hide.

You will see our selfishness, for we cannot give.

You will see our pain, for we cannot heal.

O eyes that will see hell’s darkest pit and witness her ugly prince … sleep, please sleep; sleep while you can.

Lie still, tiny mouth. Like still, mouth from which eternity will speak.

Tiny tongue that will soon summon the dead, that will define grace, that will silence our foolishness.

Rosebud lips - upon which rid a starborn kiss of forgiveness to those who believe you, and of death to those who deny you - lie still.

And tiny feet cupped in the palm of my hand, rest. For many difficult steps lie ahead for you.

Do you taste the dust of the trails you will travel?

Do you feel the cold seawater upon which you will walk?

Do you wrench at the invasion of the nail you will bear?

Do you fear the steep descent down the spiral staircase into Satan’s domain?

Rest, tiny feet. Rest, so that tomorrow you might walk with power. Rest. For millions will follow in your steps.

And little heart … holy heart … pumping the blood of life through the universe: How many times will we break you?

You’ll be torn by the thorns of our accusations.

You’ll be ravaged by the cancer of our sin.

You’ll be crushed under the weight of your own sorrow.

Any you’ll be pierced by the spear of our rejection.

Yet in that piercing, in that ultimate ripping of muscle and membrane, in that final rush of blood and water, you will find rest. Your hands will be freed, your eyes will see justice, your lips will smile, and your feet will carry you home.

And there you’ll rest again this time in the embrace of your Father.

A Peacful Christmas Eve

"In this night of reconciliation, let none be angry or gloomy. In this night that stills everything, let nothing threaten or disturb. This night belongs to the sweet One; let nothing bitter or harsh be in it. In this night that belongs to the meek One, let there be nothing high or haughty. In this day of pardoning, let us not exact punishments for trespasses."


-St. Ephraem the Syrian