Lenten Progress Report

My progress report? The good news first because I choose to be a half-full kind of person: I've taken baby steps in the right direction. 

Now for the not-so-good news (I won't say bad): I've been falling on my bum a lot this Lent. One step forward, two steps back. Or something like that.

Failure stinks, especially when you have complete ownership of your failure.

I recently broke my Lenten screen time rules big-time. There. I said it. And I just went to confession. Oh well. There's no rationing of God's grace, mercy, or love. Thank goodness for that.

I surpassed my daily designated one-hour on the Internet largely in part because I felt the need to defend my worldview with words, words, words instead of just living it.


My wise grandma and I were once talking about defending the faith. She advised me to not work so hard at defending my faith but to just do my best to lead a life of faith instead. This is good counsel for evangelizing anything we believe in - whether we're talking about our system of spiritual beliefs, the way we choose to parent our children, or the best way to manage money. Live it and live it well, and others will want what you have or want to do what you do.

Which me reminds me of the words of Madeleine L'Engle: "We do not draw people to Christ by loudly discrediting what they believe, by telling them they are wrong and how right we are, but by showing them a light that is so lovely that they want with all their hearts to know the source of it."

I'm a born wordsmith, and sometimes, I hope, my words might help to shed light on the love I have for my family and God. I like to weave together words to inspire, to encourage, and sometimes to express an opinion. I'm also far better at talking with the keyboard than talking with my mouth because there's more time to think and reflect. When I'm talking, the words can come tumbling out too quickly. 

But even in my writing, my words sometimes take on a life of their own.  They do more harm than good, I fear - at least in the way that they might divert me from being a better steward of my time. My words can also get taken out of context. They come off as inflammatory when that was not the intention of my heart. Or they come off as overly pious when my heart is everything but. Nor do I always choose my words wisely. And my words - even when they are right and good - are nothing - rubbish really - if I don't back them up with my life. 


Sometimes I'm so busy worrying about the gifts in me that I forget about the God within me. He wants to peek out. I want Him to peek out. But He needs some space to do His work. I need to give Him space. Everything is too crowded right now. I'm too distracted by the constant stream of thoughts that is always flowing from the Internet that I'm finding it more and more difficult to silence the back-and-forth banter long enough to just STOP...and focus on God, my children, and living a life of love and goodness.

 
The battle against my fallen nature is tough enough without making the blogosphere a battleground. Besides, no matter what we write about in Cyberspace we're all in this together, slogging through a mire of our own pasts, our insecurities, and our perceptions, but I'm learning ever so slowly that the more I attach myself to Christ, the less power what others think or say about what I write or who I am has over me. (Thanks to a friend for the recent reminder of the fruit of detachment!)

For today I hope to give others glimpses of God's love - not so much with my words - but with every choice I make, with my life, with the smiles on my face and on my children's (and we do smile and giggle a lot around here) and also with the gratitude for all those good times and a graceful acceptance of the not-so-fun moments.  ("Show, don't tell" applies as well to Christian mothers as it does to good writers, doesn't it?)

For today I'll remind myself that my Lenten failures are behind me and that there is still time to take advantage of the grace of this season. These 40 days are about the beautiful but often painful process of abandoning yourself to God.  Taking on a cross that seems too heavy for me to shoulder isn't easy. I'm weak, but thankfully God is there even when my strength is not. It's when I rely too much on my own power or my word instead of His Word when God asks me to just stop and shut up long enough to hear Him say, "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness."

I'm listening. In my weakness, make me strong, and may my life radiate the lovely Light that is you dwelling within me.

Comments closed for Lent.

Some Further Thoughts on Feminism, Motherhood, and Having It All

I recently wrote a column for Inside Catholic that pointed a finger at certain schools of feminist thought for making women feel like less instead of more. The article sparked an interesting dialogue (some of the comments took issue with the column) and has prompted further thoughts from me.

One of the many challenges of being a writer who occasionally broaches controversial topics (other than the fact that I’m oh-so-vain and want everyone to like me and pump their fists as a sign of solidarity when they read my opinion pieces) is that you’re confined by a word count and there never seems to be a way to address all the points of your argument or to defend against potential naysayers. I can’t completely blame the word count though. At times, comments help to unveil my failings as a writer. Perhaps I could have done a better job at making my point. Perhaps I could have been more concise. In the case of this article, perhaps I could have explained what I meant when I threw the word “feminist” out there.

Thankfully, the interactive nature of the Internet affords writers the opportunity to clarify points, and that’s exactly what I attempted to do in the comments section. The article and subsequent discussion spurred these additional thoughts as well:

The purpose of my article was not to ignite another Mommy War.  I hate the Mommy Wars. It bothers me to no end that we’re so quick to criticize one another instead of lifting our fellow mothers up and encouraging them. While most women don’t reduce themselves to openly criticizing other mothers, I believe many of us would agree there is implicit tension between working and nonworking moms.

A man pointed out when he wrote after the original article, "With men a woman is much less likely to be judged negatively for making the choice of hearth over career." Sadly, I believe this is often the case. Men are frequently more supportive of at-home moms than women themselves.  It goes both ways, of course. Stay-at-home mothers may secretly label successful, working moms as being too absorbed by their careers to care about their children while working moms pity their nonworking counterparts who have nothing better to do than bake cookies and watch Blue’s Clues every day.

Why are women so quick to attack their own kind? Partly because, I think, we're trying to find validation for our own choices, and one way to do this (we assume) is to point out what we think might be missteps of others. (If you're a long-time reader of this blog, you've seen me bring this up before.) Still, I stand by my original argument that part of the reason otherwise amiable women find themselves being so judgmental about others’ choices is because of the feminist movement. It's pitted us against each other because of its promises of equality, liberation, super careers, happy motherhood, etc.

Which brings me to another point:

I was not attacking people - feminists or otherwise - who believe women deserve respect and equality. But I was blaming certain ideologies propagated by modern feminists who often seem to view "equality" as men and women being the same. In truth, the term "feminist" has gotten a bad rap, partly because it's been muddied up by extremist organizations like NOW. (I mentioned in my original article how early feminists fought for women to to be seen as being equal in dignity and worked to be champions virtue of virtue.) But in my personal experience - and perhaps I'm too quick to make global generalizations - many women today who claim to be feminists are extolling (inadvertently perhaps) two traits:

#1 the ability to juggle many balls at once or encouraging women to buy into the secular gospel that it’s not enough to be a mother (you’re much better if you’re a writer/humanitarian/mom or a doctor/researcher searching for a cure for cancer/mom). On this note, someone sent me a link to an NPR article called Can Working Moms "Have It All"? Ha! that made an excellent point about how we might be able to "have it all" but just not at the same time. I've often reminded myself of a similar point when I'm pining to start volunteering as I did in college or to write a novel or to pursue something else that's just not feasible (or sensible) at this juncture in my life. There's a season for everything. Right now the age of my children (as well as the nature of my husband's profession) require me to be fully present in their lives. It's cliche, but I always value when moms who have gone before me remind me to savor these times and that they really are just a small bleep on the radar screen of life.

And #2: You're better and stronger if you act more like a man and leave those empathetic tears at home.

I certainly shouldn't dub all feminists as angry women with Y chromosome envy. I'm hopeful of  New Feminism, which will hopefully take back the term "feminist" and that women everywhere will devote their resources to raising awareness about real injustices against women like "gendercide."

Presently, I'm blessed to know some self-proclaimed feminists who truly are about choices - and American women are blessed to have these choices. But perhaps a column for another day would be  take ask the question: At what cost are we willing to make some of these choices? When is the price too much to pay?

And while some at-home moms may be lucky to never have had to face any condescending remarks, I have. One example: I was once asked by another woman in a social setting what I did for a living. I proudly said I was an at-home (no twinges of inadequacy in this particular exchange). Her follow-up question, I kid you not, was: "Did you go to college?" Not, "Where did you go to school?" but did I even go. I don't blame her. I don't think she even realized how condescending she was being. And what if I hadn't gone to college? What then? My mom didn't finish college, and she's never felt insecure about it. (Go Mom!) She always wanted to be a wife and mom and believes her dropping out of college and focusing on the domestic front made it all the more possible for my dad to scale the ladders of corporate success. My mom is also one of the brightest women I know. Intelligence is not a commodity only granted to those who have professional titles or a college diploma.

Nor should we pursue a career as a way of exerting our independence or providing a backup plan in case we end up having to support ourselves. Smart, resourceful women can find their way back into the workforce. We won't "lose" ourselves, our potential to perform in the business world, or our identities if we give up a career for the mom track.

When I worked in secular media, we gave motherhood plenty of lip service, but there were definitely these subterranean messages (terms like "hybrid women" were subtle but clear: Doing more is better) to be careful to not "lose" myself in motherhood and to be sure to pursue all my heart's desires. The irony is I'm just beginning to find my true self in the trenches of motherhood.

Now to give readers some more background, I initially started jotting down ideas for the column after a feminist in my area began making a big deal about the "men at work" signs along our roadways. While I don't think she ever referred to herself as a radical feminist, to me this is a radical, if not absurd, agenda. While I imagine her intentions were good, why would an obviously passionate and intelligent woman devote so much time to something like this instead of doing something that would really benefit women and society at large (say local job fairs or helping to support breastfeeding women in the workplace)?

Her crusade was wrong on so many fronts. I could address the absurdity of pandering to an illogical minority all for the sake of political correctness. Even if the merits the argument that the “biased” signs are wounding women held some merit, should tax dollars be diverted so that a handful of women won’t have hurt feelings? Unquestionably, the advancement of women – not in the form of ridiculous road signs – but in education and social standing and in dignity, is venerable, but we need to advance women without changing them into something that's contrary to their design and the gifts they have. It's just been my experience (and perhaps as a commenter alluded to, it's a limiting one) that radical feminists often create a crisis where there isn't one.

All this said, we can't dump all the blame on radical feminists. The big push for Super Women is found in society at large. Everyone is telling us we can have it all. There's also this idea that all it takes is self-determination and you can make you into what you want to be, and God, our nature, and other circumstances that are out of our control are left out of the equation. Then when we don't get what we want, we feel like failures. But it's not all up to us. It never has been.

One commenter made an excellent point about all people - men and women - being called to give of themselves. This is the mark of a Christian. But men's "way of the cross" often takes on a different form than a woman's. When women start adopting male roles and traits, we rob men of the ability to be protectors and providers. We have to be careful to not undermine their worth by changing our own.

Of course, men can be great nurturers (I've said before my husband is a natural one). Likewise, women make great workers in fields other than motherhood, too. I actually prefer going to female health care providers because I feel like they listen to me better (you know, that special sensitivity I referred to in my article) and can just relate to the workings of a female body better than a man might be able to (but I have had great male doctors, too, and I happen to be married to one!). My midwife listens to her intuition. She's very, very good at looking at a laboring woman and knowing exactly what she needs at that moment. I'm so thankful she's using her innate gifts to help women bring life into the world.

Lest I'm not being completely clear: I am not against working women. Moms are working women. I'm not tsking, tsking working women who have to work outside of the home either. In fact, I've had to freelance write to help support my husband through his long medical training, so it would be very unfair of me to judge moms who work outside of the home simply because the nature of my trade allows me to do it at home. I understand economics often demand women work outside of the home and further believe that women can add a lot to the workforce.  I'm passionate about encouraging mothers (or fathers!) who have made the decision to stay at home with their children.  I do not believe anyone has the right to judge or condemn mothers who chose to work outside their homes. I know an amazing mom of many children who had to put her children in school go back to work for the good of her family. She is making tremendous sacrifices doing this and deserves admiration, not condemnation.

However, I do believe we should not work simply to be more like men, to feel better about ourselves, or to escape the "ennui" of motherhood. Unfortunately, I do see some potential bigger picture problems emerging with more and more women entering the workforce, but that would make for yet another column. The Economist recently had an article examining some of the real and potential effects of the economic empowerment of women.

Personally, I don't think I could have a demanding career and be a good mom. I know my own limitations. I have a tendency to be a perfectionist. Trying to be a perfect employer and mom would surely lead to burnout.  Motherhood alone sometimes leaves me feeling overwhelmed. Maybe it's partly because of the age of my kids (three five and under), the parenting style I adopt (practicing extended breastfeeding, not separating myself from my little ones much, etc.) and because of my husband's work (I'm almost always the one on night duty, and it gets exhausting). Sometimes it's hard enough for me to "just" be a mom. I just can't imagine nurturing three little ones AND working full-time. This doesn't mean it can't be done. As wives, mother, and women, we have to do what is right for our family at the time. I believe my family would have suffered had I remained in law school (I mentioned in the article that I dropped out of law school to support my husband through medical school). Yet if our circumstances demanded I take a leap of faith and re-enter the workforce, I would trust that I would manage somehow or another. Even now, knowing I'm blessed to be able to be the primary caregiver for my children, there are times when I find myself longing for the time management skills of another mother who appears to accomplish so much more than I ever could imagine doing. That's when I have to stop myself and remind myself to focus on what I am doing and what I'm doing right.

This brings me full circle back to the heart of my original message in the Inside Catholic article: Women, be whom you were created and called to be. Don't let anyone - feminist or not - convince you that you're less of a woman or a person for embracing your femininity and/or motherhood.

Now go cuddle with your kids (you're making a good use of your time even if you can't add that particular skill to your curriculum vitae - as a friend reminded me) and know that your children are most definitely concrete achievements in this world and the next. :-)

*UPDATED: I thought this was wise counsel from another comment and something I need to keep close: "If instead, we just begin to radiate our own personal comfort in 'being' who we are - not so much needing to 'justify ourselves' as one thing vs. something else - I think we would not only have more personal peace, but in some cases, others could find even better inspiration from our peace, than from many of our words - especially if the words have to become defensive and/or contentious."

Comments closed for Lent.

I Am Woman

You can read my latest Inside Catholic column: I Am Woman.  Comments are open over there.

At the Heart of it All

The girls (mostly Madeline, my five-year-old) came up with their very own Lenten plan, and it's been going well. We've talked about how the goal of Lent is to become more like Jesus. Then I asked her how she thought she might be able to do that. She shared her ideas, and I wrote them down. She then chose some colorful paper for the backdrop. She selected a floral motif because "it will soon be spring" and "there are purple flowers, and purple is for preparation."

She drew a crucifix and a heart, and I think that about says it all.

 

We hung her Lenten plan in a prominent place in the kitchen. Every time I see her rendering of Jesus on the cross and the crayon heart below it, I'm reminded to not complicate my Lent. This time of year isn't about some overly ambitious list of spiritual practices or sacrifices. There's a difference between fasting and just not eating (in my eating disorder days, Lent was a good cover up for me to diet - a divine weight loss program, if you will, before the looming swimsuit season). There's a difference between donating to a charity and giving beyond what hurts. My daughter's scribbled heart reminded me that a fruitful Lent cuts below the surface and finds the heart. I have to ask myself: Is my heart still hard in certain areas of my life, or is it thawing out with the spring with the giving and the penance of the season?

Nail your heart to the cross. Don't be afraid to make it tender by suffering. Don't be afraid of a dying to self or of giving all you have to Jesus. That's what these 40 days are really about - looking to Him and not your own circumstances or personal power to get you through the day. It's about giving up small pieces of you and your wants, and letting Him fill the holes so that you can become more like Him.

It's about embracing your crosses in life - whether they're the slivers of minor but constant struggles or heavy loads that feel like they're on the verge of crushing you - and carrying them with grace. It's also about recognizing the crosses others carry and not judging them for complaining or for stumbling. Instead, reach out to your fellow fallen brothers and sister. Offer to help lighten their load or at least make an effort to encourage them with something as simple as a warm smile or a "just because" note dropped in the mail.

 

It's about seeing the face of Jesus in everyone you meet.

 

It's about forgoing the Internet, the television, or some other time destroyer and being a better steward of the hours you've been blessed with. It's about squeezing in extra cuddles with the kids, preparing a special meal for your spouse, or calling a friend just to say hi (and then listening more than talking - so, so, so hard for me!). It's about filling up your faith reserves, so you'll always have provisions for when life gets rough and you start to question God, His will for you, His love for you, and His very existence.

It's about falling in love with God all over again (or for the first time). It's about reaching into your spiritual toolbox and finding the time, discipline and most importantly, the love to set aside an hour to pray a rosary or to hold a crucifix in your hand and to just say thank you. Thank you for giving me new life. Thank you for giving me hope. Thank you for showing me that the path to true happiness is loving others more than I love myself.

 

I have a long way to go and I've already tripped more than once, but I've begun. Sometimes that's all God asks of us is to put one foot in front of the other - or one hand folded into the other in prayer - and to begin.

Birthday Daybook

I've really enjoyed reading Daybooks from bloggers like Elizabeth Foss and Sarah Reinhard over the past few months, so I've decided to start occasionally sharing my own Daybook.

The Simple Woman's Daybook idea began with Peggy in 2008. I've decided to adopt some of its headings, make up some of my own as well as borrow some from folks like Sarah and Elizabeth.



Outside my window...

Sunshine, glorious, sunshine! It's finally starting to feel like spring in Georgia.



I'm listening to...

The groaning of the washer and the clanking of the dryer. They're good sounds; I'm way behind on laundry. The humming of a five-year-old as she makes patterns on her Geoboard and a two-year-old talking to her Geobands as if they were people.




I'm thinking...

I recently turned 31. I don't feel old. I didn't feel old when I turned 30 either.

I don't understand why some women dread their thirties. To tell the truth, I feel relieved to be through with my twenties. There was so much uncertainty in that decade. There was all this pressure to find out my life's vocation, to snag the perfect soul mate, and to ponder the meaning of life. Oh, the angst!

What makes matters worse is everyone tells 20-somethings that they’d better enjoy this time because these are the best years of their lives. I remember feeling a sense of dread and wondering if that was really true - that it all goes downhill from here.

It wasn't. Life has only been getting better. Or maybe I've been getting better at taking the good with the bad. Whereas my twenties were defined by searching, my thirties seem to be about settling. Not settling for less, but settling for where I'm at any given moment, settling into the rhythm of motherhood, settling into being married to the same wonderful man for nearly 10 years, settling into my own skin and feeling good in it (on most days), too.

Bring on the birthday candles!



I am wearing...

A button-down blouse with navy and white stripes, jeans, and brown ballet flats. It's a very classic look - a look my husband loves.




I am thankful for...

A perfect birthday. My mom (Gaba), Rae, Madeline, and Mary Elizabeth and I had a girls' day together. It was 70 degrees and sunny. We started the day off with Mass, and then I went to confession. Then my mom took us shopping and to lunch. (I felt a little guilty breaking my shopping fast, but my mom assured me that I had dispensation since this was gift from her and my dad to me.)
:-)

Dave came home from work with a balloon, a chocolate cake (yes, I indulged. It's tough having a birthday during Lent year after year), and delicious Indian food. The girls gave me their presents handpicked by them during a Saturday morning errand with Daddy, and they helped me blow out my candles. Madeline made me a card that included some "poetry" she'd written. I'm not sure who was happier with the celebration - me or my girls.

Oh, and for an affirmation junkie like myself it sure was nice to receive so many phone calls, emails and Facebook birthday wishes and not to mention, old-fashioned snail mail cards. Thank you, thank you to everyone for making my birthday a special one!




On the homeschooling front...

I've started planning for next year. We've had a few minor bumps this year mostly involving me doubting my ability to homeschool my kids (while staying sane), but we're starting to get in to the groove. There are some days when I still feel exasperated or insecure, but there are many more days when I think to myself, "I love this," and I realize what a gift it is to be my children's primary teacher.




Around the house...

Purging feels good. I've only got 13 of my 40 Bags for 40 days, so there's more work to be done.



In the kitchen...

Here's a look at my meal plans for the rest of the week:

Tuesday
Chicken noodle soup leftovers and whole wheat banana bread (I haven't gotten around to posting this one; I'll add it to my growing online recipe bank one of these days.)

Wednesday
Yogurt marinated chicken with roasted asparagus (sprinkle asaparagus with olive oil and Kosher salt and roast at 425 degrees for 20-25 minutes)

Thursday
Turkey gumbo from this cookbook

Friday
Daddy On-Call Quiche (since Daddy won't be home for dinner) and crockpot applesauce



On wholeness...

Spiritually, I'm trying to spend at least five minutes listening to God. Confession was good, too. I always forget what a gift confession is until I find myself casting my cares, my sins, and and fears on God's broad shoulders. I never feel lighter than after a good confession.

Mentally, I'm striving to carve out time to write without sacrificing sleep. I'm also reading before bed every night as a way to unwind.

Physically, I've been aiming to walk outside on most days now that the weather has been better. The sunshine and movement are like Prozac for the soul.



I'm reading...

Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri and The Handbook for Catholic Moms by Lisa Hendey

My two-year-old is really in to Mr. Rabbit and the Lovely Present by Charlotte Zolotow (probably because of my recent birthday). Charlotte Zolotow is quickly becoming one of my all-time favorite children's authors. She uses imagery and lyrical language to tell stories that capture my children's attention and heart. (If you have daughters, you must read Big Sister and Little Sister. Madeline loves to take care of her baby sisters like the big sister in this book, and Rachel has recognized the times when her big sister might need some care from her, too. The book is a wonderful primer on empathy within the family.)



I'm creating...

Our spring menu. Bring on the asparagus! I love the nifty Locavore App that tells you what else is in season and available at your nearby farmers' markets.



I'm hoping and praying...

For a friend who is concerned about her little girl and the bruises that keep popping up on her skin.

For continued healing for my dear mama.

For my daughter's godmother who is preparing for the Sacrament of Holy Matrimony and will be marrying her beloved in April in New York City. (We'll be headed to the Big Apple, too, since I'm a bridesmaid, and Madeline will be filling the role of flower girl.)




To live the Liturgy...
I'm planning for the Feast of Saint Joseph. Any ideas for crafts targeted at little ones (ages 3-5)? I'll be teaching my co-op that day and always like to incorporate a hands-on activity. Comments are closed for Lent, but you can email me at kmwicker [at] gmail [dot] com.



My Lent so far...

The theme of my Lent this year seems to be disconnecting from all those things (think: Internet) that are distracting me from living a full and in-the-moment life of goodness and reconnecting with the only Source of Wisdom and Love there is and ever shall be.

I have a lot of thoughts on this, and I'm scribbling down notes and plan to write about it after Lent.

Until then, read this and this. So many of us are constantly weighing the pros and cons of the connected world we live in. It's a difficult balancing act to use technology enough that it keeps you in the loop and allows you to connect with people you never would have met otherwise and not allowing it to enslave you.



One of my favorite things...

Hearing Mary Elizabeth say, "Mama." You'd think hearing those words tumble from my baby's mouth would have lost some its magic since she's my third chatterbox. But when she recently started crying for me and reached her arms and said, "Mama," my eyes teared up and my heart soared.



Words to the wise...

"Every time you meet another human being you have an opportunity. It's a chance at holiness. For you will do one of two things. Either you will build him up, or you will tear him down. Either you will acknowledge that he is, or you will make him sorry that he is- sorry at least that he is there, in front of you. You will create, or you will destroy. And the things you dignify or deny are God's own property. They are made, each one of them, in His own image.

There are no useless, minor meetings. There are no dead-end jobs. There are no pointless lives. Swallow your sorrows, forget your grievances and all the hurt your poor life has sustained. Turn your face truly to the human before you and let him for one pure moment, shine. Think him important, and he will suspect that his is fashioned of God."

~from Familia training materials



A few plans for the rest of the week...


My priority this week is to continue to catch up on sleep. I have to tackle a freelance deadline as well as wrap up another chapter of my book.

We'll be enjoying the beginnings of spring, too. Several nature walks are on this week's agenda.



A picture thought I'm sharing...

I really need to work on Mary Elizabeth's diet. :-)

 

Comments are closed for Lent.

What You Really, Really Don't Want to Find in Your Baby's Mouth

 

This morning I discovered my beloved baby (the alleged food snob) plopped down next to our sliding glass doors, taking note of the sunny day, and munching on a beetle.

Choking hazard aside, I'm not sure if a crunchy insect would be considered the breakfast of champions.

Ewwwwww...

Raising Little Scribes

You can read my latest feature at Faith & Family LIVE: Encouraging Creative Writing: Four Ways to Inspire Your Kids.

Paradise Found

I have a confession to make. I started Lent not in a wild wilderness wrought with twisted roots and temptations lurking in every shadow, but in paradise. Thanks to the generosity of Gaba and Papa, I spent four days at the beach with my husband, my children, my parents, and my brothers.

Each day I woke to find children brimming with excitement. We smelled of coconut, and our skin was dusted with sand.

Beneath a blue sky, I watched my children splash in clear water and search the sands for shells.

I watched them build a sand castle - and memories - with their favorite architect, Gaba.

Their delight became my own as sea turtles drifted toward us, looking weightless and oneiric in their watery world.

I saw my girls and the paradise surrounding us - not only through the lens of the camera - but with my undistracted eyes, and the blue breadth of the ocean and the beauty of my children heightened my sense for the numinous. How can anyone doubt God's existence in the presence of nature and children? Children whose contentment comes from Him and hasn't been muddied up by life and the pressure to search your soul when you should be cultivating it instead. Children who remind you of the presence of your soul and the goodness of it, too. It's there. No need to gouge anything out. It's your gift from God. Now stop looking for it and just make it beautiful.

My throat caught when my five-year-old placed her white linen napkin on her lap and ordered her dinner selection with grace and aplomb (don't be too impressed: She asked for lemonade and plain pasta with butter and cheese). But, my, how old she suddenly seemed to me now that we were pulled from our everyday life and able to take on a slower pace. There was time to listen, to watch, to see, and to give thanks for these beautiful children of mine who are growing up so quickly.

There were the quiet nursing sessions on the beach. A cool breeze sweeping across me, my skin sticky against the baby's, her chubby fingers reaching for my ridiculously big sunglasses.

Paradise found. What a gift.

This winter has been hard - not just for me, but for many people I know. In the late summer, my midwife diagnosed me with postpartum depression (I've hesitated writing about this, but I've decided to put it out there and plan to write more on depression down the road in the hopes that it may help others). I'd skipped my six-week postpartum visit, but my husband urged me to take care of myself and talk to my midwife. So I did, but I didn't want to hear I was depressed or anxious. Although I'd suffered from situational sadness in the past and even anxiety, I'd never been faced with this kind of heaviness. There were many days where I felt as if I was dragging myself through thick mud. I was so tired and sad and angry sometimes, too.

Still, I didn't really want "help." I wanted to be able to fix it, or I wanted to believe my sadness was imagined, something I had complete control over. I learned it was and it wasn't. There were certainly steps I could take to soothe my frayed edges, but it was also okay to admit I was hurting and that I didn't have complete ownership of my pain - or the power to just snap my fingers, play the Pollyanna Glad Game, and make it go away.

After a few rough months, I began to feel much, much better (no inexplicable crying jags, no burning anger, and my appetite for food and living a full life had returned).

Then the rain and cold and darkness set in and the Haiti earthquake happened, and my healing seemed to deliquesce into a pool of my tears. My sense of powerlessness to just snap out of it was terrifying. I wanted to be happy. I should have been happy. I had stress in my life, but it was mostly good stress such as preparing for a move that would be good for our family. So why couldn't I just make happiness happen?

Even worse, I felt abandoned and started wondering why my faith felt so shaky at a time when I needed it to be strong and to hold me up. I felt like God had been the one on vacation, and I had been left with a heavy workload and not a moment's rest. I've started to consider whether it is the spiritual dryness that causes the despondency or the heavy heart that causes a rift in your relationship God and leads you to cry out, "God, where are you? I want you, need you and the belief in you and your love."

As the sun waned, my world fell into winter. And it was tempting to shut myself out, to shut God out, to shut the door on people who were Christ-bearers in my life, people who offered glimpses of God's goodness.

When Lent arrived, I was prepared for the wilderness. I'd been living in darkness, so what was a little more of it here and there?

But maybe what I needed was the sun.

During this idyll, I regained perspective. I realized I need the fresh air and must go outside every day even in the rain or sleet for at least a few minutes. I cannot contain myself or my children in our small townhouse. We need to stretch our limbs and be outdoors. Sunshine is good medicine - even when it's hiding behind a thick veil of clouds.

I also must make sleep a priority. (I know, I know. I've said this before. Maybe I shouldn't be giving anything up this Lent but instead taking on more sleep!). I cannot control how often my baby wakes or the nightmares that cause my fear-mongering toddler to seek solace in my arms in the middle of the night (my normally easy-going toddler is going through an anxious stage and is afraid of everything and needs more TLC from me than is typical). However, I can control what time I slip into bed.

During our vacation, the baby slept horribly, waking up nearly every hour (much worse than an average night); yet, I felt so much more rested, and it wasn't simply because I had plenty of helping hands around and was lounging on the beach and sipping sweet, mellifluous Riesling at dinner (though I'm sure that helped just a little bit). I went to bed early. I was in bed by 9 p.m. with a book and asleep by 10 p.m. I wasn't burning the midnight oil staring at a glaring computer screen or working on the latest domestic project to zap my energies. I realize that at home there is work to be done, but that work means nothing if my primary job - to be a loving wife and mom - falls by the wayside because I forgo sleep to do, do, do.

Likewise, our bedtime routines as of late (prior to finding ourselves in paradise) have been stressful. I am incredibly jealous in awe of moms whose children roll over and drift off to the Land of Nod after being tucked in and granted just one quick kiss on the forehead. I like to tell myself their kids are just stupid simpletons and haven't figured out that their bed doesn't have an invisible wall around it while my progeny are prodigies - or in the very least, tenacious, little buggers who know that Mom has a lot of power, but one thing she cannot do is force them to go to sleep.

After lots and lots of stories, cuddles, and prayers, it's always been my custom to rest with the girls for a few minutes before I make my escape. Only, recently, I hadn't really been resting. I'd been planning the entire time. I'd been wishing they would just go to sleep. I've always loved our nightly story time, but as soon as the last book is closed, I often have the urge to to sprint off and get stuff done.

At the beach, I had nowhere to go and nothing to do, and our bedtime woes were non-existent. There were no tears, no "I'm thirsty-ies," no "one more book please," no "Where's my elephant? Where's my doggie?", no "turn the night light on." You get the idea (or maybe you don't - lucky you). I realized some of my bedtime battles stemmed from me being in such a rush to get the kids to sleep. They sensed I was on edge, watching the clock tick time away. But at the beach I was content to relax beside them.

Kids know when we're not fully present and they don't like it one bit, so I'm going to work on being more relaxed at bedtime and to just enjoy being with my kids.

I've been doing well in the bedtime routine department, but sticking to a reasonable bedtime hour for me is a constant struggle. Within two days of returning from the trip I was back to my old habits. My husband found me up past midnight and gently reminded me that I should be sleeping, not working. "But I need some time for myself," I whined calmly said.

"You need to start thinking of sleep as time for yourself."

What wise counsel I find in my husband.

Now that I'm home and back in the grind, I recognize it wasn't just the sleep, the seamless bedtime routine, the dearth of to-do lists, or the fact that I was in paradise that lifted my spirits. It was the reminder that the darkness never lasts forever. Sometimes the darkness isn't even really there when we think it is. We're the ones hiding away. So I've resigned myself to let the sunshine in, to take a step outside and out of myself, to cling to the small seeds of faith within me, to indulge - yes, indulge - in quiet prayer time this Lent, and to find paradise even when it's not so obvious. And to always, always be grateful for when it is.

Comments closed for Lent.

Hold the Beef: Going Meatless in Lent and Beyond

I'm back. Sort of. I'm still limiting my screen time, and I have much to say about my recent Internet fast (including how I learned the most from a moment of weakness). I hope to blog about my experience eventually. I actually had no contact with a computer or even email for three whole days and then continued to curtail my Internet time other than a daily email check for a little over a week. It was not easy, but it was rewarding. No pain, no gain, right? I also have much to share (including photos!) about a recent trip we enjoyed, thanks to the generosity of my parents.

I'll get to it all - eventually.

For now, I'm sharing my most recent feature at Faith & Family LIVE! that was published while I was MIA. Check out Hold the Beef: Going Meatless in Lent and Beyond, and share your favorite recipes for meatless meals.

Seeking Silence

Today is the last day I'll have comments open on my blog until after Easter. This also marks the final post before I begin an Internet fast that I have committed to for at least the next week. To clarify, I will be fasting from all websites and blogs and will only check my email once a day. Unfortunately, I cannot completely forgo email since it is the standard form of communication for some of my kids' activities; I'll also still be using the Internet for some homeschooling work. I haven't decided exactly how long I will remain unplugged. I don't want to have a plan. I want to see where the fast leads me.

Why am I doing this? Because I need to drown out some distractions in order to take my relationship with God to the next level. All relationships pass through phases. We begin as strangers. We become acquaintances. Some of the people that come into our lives evolve into close friends. With our spouse, we reach new intimacy.

But what of my relationship with God?

Lately, I'm afraid, he's felt more like a stranger than a close friend. Frequently in my spiritual journey, he's been like a casual acquaintance. I'm always polite to him when I run into him at Mass or in a rushed prayer, but I don't correspond with him with the kind of regularity or familiarity of a good, trustworthy friend. And why not? I'm supposed to reach the level of intimacy with God you see in "old, married couples" who don't need to fill the air with trivial chatter. They're comfortable just being together in the silence, knees grazing, hands clasped together.

That is why I need to turn away from the constant buzz of blog comments and the limitless information on the Web. It's drowning out his voice, a voice that's subtle and doesn't try to rise above the clamor, a presence that isn't revealed but glimpsed with an open and willing heart. Silence exists so that I may speak to God and come to know him. I just want to talk to him, easily like an old friend. Then I want to become so comfortable with him that I can recognize he is with me and that he knows and loves me without either of us having to say a word.

Although I'm turning off the comments for my personal spiritual growth, maybe the stillness will benefit you as well. Colleen, a blogging friend, made an excellent point after this post. She writes, "I feel so free to read people's blogs that don't have comments, knowing they don't expect me to say anything."

I know what she means. I used to rarely comment on anyone's blog because it was just easier to have more of a "no comment" policy, but then I started feeling that this wasn't fair of me to wait for comments on my own blog but to never chime in on others'. So I started to leave a comment here and there, but it was tough to discern whose blog I should comment on since there are so many unique voices out there. Then I'd go on a comment rampage. I'd carve out a pocket of time and start shooting off comments in rapid fire. Those were often days when I'd start to feel on edge, or I'd say, "In just a minute," to a child whose voice may not have been as cerebral as the faceless stranger I was connecting with online but who needed me - all of me - at that moment. I can give my mind to anyone, but I owe my family and God my heart.

It's always tricky for me to find that balance. All or nothing seems easier, so for Lent, "nothing" it is - as far as comments go. I won't be commenting on others' blogs either. I'm certainly not suggesting open comments are a bad thing or a worthy scapegoat for all my maternal transgressions (obedience and discipline - or lack thereof - are at the heart of my struggles to find balance), and I imagine I'll be turning comments back on come Easter. (I do so love to hear from you, dear readers! You really do make this blog worth blogging for!). However, I have to agree that there is a certain freedom, as Colleen suggests, to stumbling across a blog that edifies without asking for anything in return.

I'll be back in a few.

"Be still, and know that I am God." (Psalm 46:10)