"Love does such things!"

[The] journey of God from the everlasting into the transitory, this stride across the border into history, is something no human intellect can altogether grasp. The mind might even oppose the apparently fortuitous, human aspect of this interpretation with its own ‘purer’ idea of godliness; yet precisely here lies hidden the kernel of Christianity. Before such an unheard of thought the intellect bogs down. Once at this point a friend gave me a clue that helped my understanding more than any measure of bare reason. He said: “But love does such things!” Again and again these words have come to the rescue when the mind has stopped short at some intellectual impasse. Not that they explain anything to the intelligence; they arouse the heart, enabling it to feel its way into the secrecy of God. The mystery is not understood, but it does move nearer, and the danger of “scandal” disappears.

None of the great things in human life springs from the intellect; every one of them issues from the heart and its love. If even human love has its own reasoning, comprehensible only to the heart that is open to it, how much truer must this be of God’s love! When it is the depth and power of God that stirs, is there anything of which love is incapable? The glory of it is so overwhelming that to all who do not accept love as an absolute point of departure, its manifestations must seem the most senseless folly. (Romano Guardini, The Lord)

My Advent prayer today: Lord, may we know Your love, may we accept Your love, may we allow Your love to change us, and may we return Your love to those we encounter today.

$1.87

 

$1.87 -- that was all Della had, after scrimping and saving, to buy her Jim a Christmas present. So she sold her long beautiful hair -- her prized possession -- to buy him a chain for his watch -- his prized possession -- only to learn that he had sold his watch to buy her combs for her hair, which was now gone.

I read the kids one of my favorite Christmas stories this evening -- “The Gift of the Magi” by O. Henry. “The magi, as you know, were wise men -- wonderfully wise men -- who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents.”

We talked about sacrificial giving. And we talked about the bits of selfishness, the lack of generosity, and the sense of entitlement I have noticed creeping into their hearts of late and how it saddens me. One of the kids came back an hour later, with tears in her eyes. Her conscience had told her Mom might be right.

Later, as I sat and pondered my day, I was painfully aware of my own selfishness and lack of generosity. I didn’t get near what I wanted to done today. I was annoyed by interruptions. I was irritated by having to do and say the same things more than once. I wanted to be left alone. And I reflected: How often do I respond to love’s demands in this way? Too often.

Judging by my reflection, it becomes clear to me that my time could be considered my prized possession, and I am aware of the misplaced desire in my heart that my time be my own. And so an Advent resolution becomes clear as well: To sacrifice this prized possession for love of my family. To look up from my work into the eyes of the child pleading for my attention. To put aside a to-do list in favor of a board game or a book once in a while. To put my arm around the child who wants to talk, rather than to hurry her off to bed. To let go of what I think I need to do at any given moment and to pay attention to those around me. To be so ravaged by love as to outdo myself in generosity, as Della did.

“And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. Of all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.”

Turn

The Christmas liturgy includes these beautiful verses from the eighteenth chapter of the Book of Wisdom: “For while all things were in quiet silence and the night was in the midst of her course, thy almighty word leapt down from heaven from thy royal throne….” The passage, brimming with the mystery of the Incarnation, is wonderfully expressive of the infinite stillness that hovered over Christ’s birth. For the greatest things are accomplished in silence -- not in the clamor and display of superficial eventfulness, but in the deep clarity of inner vision; in the almost imperceptible start of decision, in quiet overcoming and hidden sacrifice. Spiritual conception happens when the heart is quickened by love, and the free will stirs to action. The silent forces are the strong forces. Let us turn now to the stillest event of all, stillest because it came from the remoteness beyond the noise of any possible intrusion -- from God. (Romano Guardini, The Lord)

“This is the year,” I say to myself every November -- the year when I will work frantically all month so that the frenzied pace that is December will be evaded and the Advent for which I long will be possible.

Then the first Sunday of Advent arrives. I look at my list of things that need to be done in less than four weeks and I sigh, “Oh well, maybe next year.”

This year is no different. I had illusions of gifts bought and wrapped, cards addressed and mailed, and lists made -- all before Thanksgiving. My Advent days would be perfectly planned and I would spend the dark days of December fostering “quiet silence” in my home -- prayers around the Advent wreath, story time in the warm glow of the fireplace, an Advent playlist of songs that would turn our hearts to Bethlehem and our infant Lord.

Today is the First Sunday of Advent and I find my illusions evaporating in the clamor that is life. I just now sat down for the first time today. I am at my sister’s in Minnesota spending time with my nieces and nephew while my sister and her husband take a well-deserved break on the beaches of Cancun. The cousins are having a blast together -- Wii dance parties, hot tub time, fort building, and movies. But “quiet silence” isn’t exactly a phrase I would use to describe my day.

I find myself tempted to think, yet again, “I hate Advent.” It doesn’t seem fair -- all these things that need doing. And right now. Despite trying to fight the the-Christmas-season-starts-the-day-after-Thanksgiving-(if-not-sooner)-and-ends-on-December-25th-at-midnight cultural mentality, I find I’ve been sucked in. I need to find the perfect presents. At the perfect price. On the right day -- Black Friday, Small Business Saturday, Cyber Monday. I need to wrap those presents. And mail them in time to arrive by Christmas Eve. I need to design a card. Something clever. With a great family photo. And update the card list. And address the envelopes. And buy the stamps. And mail them in time to arrive by Christmas Eve. I need to bake twelve different kinds of cookies. And plan parties. And menus. And outings. All on a budget. 

Sigh. 

And then start hyperventilating.

The reality is I will never have the Advent for which I long if everything has to be perfect by the time that first purple candle is lit. And to sigh and give up before Advent even begins is to miss an opportunity -- an opportunity to quietly overcome that which is bombarding me from every side, an opportunity for hidden sacrifice, an opportunity to let my heart be quickened by love. I can’t control the “noise” all around me -- I can’t even avoid it. I have four children -- seven, this week. Most of the stores I regularly visit have been playing Christmas music for a month already. Christmas specials fill the television programming. There are radio stations dedicated to playing Christmas music from now until December 25 (when the Christmas season actually begins!). Hustle and bustle and "Christmas" are all around me.

But the “quiet silence” for which I long isn’t something external. It’s something I have to intentionally create in my heart. Intentionally create, and carefully guard. Whether I have seven loud children around me, or only four. Whether I’m in a store blaring Christmas music or at home alone being bombarded with the clamor of the lists shouting inside my head. Only then will I be able to foster that silence in my home and in my children. In the midst of the “superficial eventfulness” that our culture has made of the month of December, I must superimpose that “inner vision” of what I know Advent to be -- a turning “to the stillest event of all, stillest because it came from the remoteness beyond the noise of any possible intrusion -- from God.” 

Let us all turn to Him and find in Him the “quiet silence” within which we can hear His voice. God bless your turning this Advent.

Regarding My Blog Break

I have taken long breaks from blogging this past year or so. It wasn’t an intentional decision. Upon reflection, it’s been a difficult year and a half, and I think part of me felt like a hypocrite every time I logged on and saw the above picture of my family looking so happy and the reminder that we are made for joy -- the reality I was experiencing was so far from the truth I believed.

The years of graduate school took a toll on us, both financially and, more devastatingly, in terms of family life. I had unrealistic expectations that once my husband had graduated and was working in his new career, life would magically be transformed -- we would own a house again; Daddy would be around more -- and everything else would just fall into place. I think I was able to deal with everything at the time because I knew it would end once the degree was in hand. But the degree has been in hand for two years already. And my dear hubby just finished his third school year in the new job. And life is still hard. We had to buy a home I don't like. And my husband is just as busy, if not busier, trying to get things going with a brand new job and a brand new program. And now there is no magical end in sight.

Graduate school was a choice we made together -- a choice I don’t regret in the least. The choices on how to spend our time and money that came along with that choice sometimes didn’t feel like choices, but they were. And now trying to undo the damage sometimes feels harder than I can bear. I am constantly hearing a voice in my head screaming, “Why does everything have to be so hard!?!” Being intentional is hard. And it makes me tired. And there is so much work to be done. It’s easy to get discouraged.

But I have learned in this year and a half that being self-focused has got to be one of the most miserable of human experiences. It is good to turn inward and reflect, but I have been so caught up in the imperfections of my life, I have been unable to see the good in a constant pursuit of the better. I have become a master of self-pity and complaining. I have not been pleasant to live with. I have not been a good wife, a good mother, a good friend. I have forgotten to be intentionally grateful -- gratitude isn’t something that comes naturally for me -- even though I am fully convinced that the holy joy for which I long is born of gratitude, even though I know I have so much for which to be grateful.

I am more convinced than ever that we are where we are supposed to be. There are wonderful things happening at the University and here in the Diocese. It’s exciting to be a part of it. And we’re taking baby steps to move toward where we want to be as a family. And I have to be content with that. We've created a family mission statement and are trying (over and over and over again) to make decisions based on that mission. We’ve created a budget for the first time in years. And while it feels so hard sometimes to make a grocery list and bring my calculator with me to the store, there’s also something very freeing about knowing I can only spend so much on this or that and I now have a criteria by which I can say no. My hubby and I are slowly this summer trying to re-prioritize and get our family life back to where we want it. I think the older kids were left to their own devices so often when Dad was in school and Mom was trying to hold down everything else, that now we’re not quite sure how to just be together. And that is painful to see. But we're aware, and that is a good place to start.

I am resolved to start blogging more regularly again -- not because life is easier than it has been, but because there is joy in every day and this is a place for me to recognize it. I share it with you, my readers, but I am doing it for me. So that I can see the good and be grateful.

I recently ran across the third chapter in Lamentations. It captures beautifully where I’ve been and where my hope lies. And I share it with you. Have a blessed weekend!

Michelle

My life is deprived of peace,

I have forgotten what happiness is;

My enduring hope, I said,

has perished before the LORD.

The thought of my wretched homelessness

is wormwood and poison;

Remembering it over and over,

my soul is downcast.

But this I will call to mind;

therefore I will hope:

The LORD’s acts of mercy are not exhausted,

his compassion is not spent;

They are renewed each morning --

great is your faithfulness!

The LORD is my portion, I tell myself,

therefore I will hope in him.

Let us search and examine our ways,

and return to the LORD!

Let us lift up our hearts as well as our hands

toward God in heaven!

You drew near on the day I called you;

you said, “Do not fear!”

(Lamentations 3:17-24, 40-41, 57)

Thankful Thursday - Fathers

One of the things I have been profoundly aware of and grateful for since moving to the Diocese of Bismarck is how many good and faithful priests we have here. Today six more were added to their number. Deo gratias!

 

 photo courtesy of Bismarck Diocese

Today I also remember in a special way another father for whom I am grateful ... Happy Birthday, Daddy! Ad multos annos!

 

Wordless Wednesday - In My Garden

Merry Easter!

Happy Easter! 

So it's a little late ...

(like just about everything else around here lately).

But, hey, it is still the Easter season ...

Come to think of it, I never wished you a Merry Christmas! either.

 

And Christmas is more what it feels like around here. 

It has been cold and snowy for far too long. 

My vitamin D level needs a boost. 

Like major time in the sunshine. 

Everybody has more than a smidgen of spring fever. 

And everybody is ready for the school year to be done.

Not least of all, the teacher.

Last Tuesday, in an effort to defy Mother Nature, 

I made potato salad and boiled some brats in beer for grilling.

Then the weekend came. 

Bismarck ended up with a new one-day snowfall record of 17.3". 

And I decided, if you can't beat Mother Nature, join her.

Unable to get the van out of the driveway, 

we pulled The Princess to Mass Sunday morning in a sled. 

(The Baby must have a new blog name, don't you think? 

I'm not sure what it should be, 

but since she loves all things princess, I'll go with this for now.)

And when we got home we celebrated Christmas. 

We made a big brunch.

We plugged the Christmas lights in, still on the house because of the long winter. 

 

We baked snowman cut-out cookies 

and listened to Christmas music while decorating them. 

  

The girls said, "Even this snowman looks unhappy."

We watched "It's a Wonderful Life."

 Because, after all, it is.

And spring will come.

Until then, Merry Easter!