Shame Shame on The CCL for promoting AP Parenting

The Couple to Couple League, for those who don't know, is an organization which promotes the mentality of Choosing Life in this screwed up world which contracepts.

They are advocates for sensible fertility awareness and periodic self-control combined with prayerful discernment with emphasis on the blessing of children, as opposed to presenting the "Family Size" issue with the fanatical eye (ie. Let's all beg God for and try to have 35 children no matter what) or with the world's viewpoint (ie. Let's all have no kids because the bunnies are dying and storms are scary so we 'll just kill ourselves and our potential babies with hormones, and if that doesn't work we'll kill them when they get a little bigger. If that still doesn't work we'll feed their selfishness as they grow so that they might kill each other later.)

I am so onboard with the "Official" Catholic position on Birth Control. That position is quite simple: it's that if you think birth control is a good idea, you're wrong.

OK, so let's pause for a minute, because if this sounds crazy to you, birth control is so much a part of your mentality that your head might have just exploded when you heard that. Birth Control is a GOOD, RESPONSIBLE thing, right?

Wrong. The Birth Control Pill has only existed for about 30 years. In those thirty years, it has only been ACCEPTED by Christian communities for about fifteen. Why? Because of it's intended purpose. Because of what it does to women's bodies. Because of what it creates and grows in a marriage.

I'm not going to give you a Bible Lesson on the blessedness of a fruitful womb or on the privilege of our Co-Creation with God or even on the absolute insanity of accepting into our bodies something which is capable of destroying not only a new baby's life but also OUR OWN. (the pill is listed as a KNOWN CARCINOGEN!)

There is PLENTY of research out there to demonstrate the monstrosity that the Pill really is. Yes, I find it shocking that women all over the world who meditate, exercise, pray and eat organic foods still contracept as if it was good and fruitful despite the fact that we allegedly live in the "information age." Believe me, someone is working very hard to ensure that the idea of the Pill being a bad thing gets silenced and shut down. And yes, there's a money trail. Follow it.

There are also plenty of quiverfull websites out there and Catholic websites out there that will dispel your fears about having more than two kids and that are intended to teach you to think differently about what's important in life. And no, that doesn't mean we all think you need to have more than one child to fulfill God's will for your family.

I HIGHLY recommend the protestant book Family Unplanning for an in depth exposition on an accurate worldview with regards to family planning.

And yes, it takes a stance against using ANY type of "family planning" method. And that has always been the Church's teaching, until the Church has been asked to elaborate due to the demands of this age. So now the Church recommends that couples practice a fertility awareness method and abstain during fertile periods...not all the time but IF THERE IS A GRAVE reason. In other words, if you don't have a job, pray and ask God if you are supposed to abstain for a while during fertile moments (yes, there's that "abstaining for a time of prayer" line from scripture.) If you have cancer, stop and ask God together whether you should continue not abstaining during fertile moments.

The myth is that the Catholic Church promotes NFP as "THE" Catholic answer- that's a line the progressives are working hard to feed you. The reality is that the Catholic Church practices and teaches Quiverfull ideas COMBINED with common sense, which makes it unfanatical and totally worth looking at. You cannot tell me that you can build a scriptural case for contracepting. It really is that simple.

So moving along, the premise of the Theology of the Body and the whole concept of a Catholic marriage is built around this foundation-- that families are forever because God works through people, loves people, and asks us to participate with him in creating and raising up Kingdom Dwellers. Right? If you're not going to be bringing children into this world and training them up, then scripture and the Church asks you to re-consider whether you are supposed to be married at all. After all, that IS the purpose of the married state, and NOT the warm fuzzy feelings generated by paying bills together and enjoying meals together. Marriage is to make families, and in order to do that, you should be open to having kids. It's not about YOU. It's about why God put you here-- for others, not for yourself.

So with this in mind, even though I'm more "quiverful" in my mentality, I support the pro-NFP activities of the Church and in the protestant world because I know that NFP is like a bridge between the culture of death and the culture of life, and further that it is frequently necessary, if only for a while, in our day and age.

The important thing, to me, is to support individuals and organizations that preach that there is an intimate connection between your openness to life as a couple and the health of your marriage, of your bodies, and of your full spiritual life.

Now, if I am going to be supporting the idea that married couples SHOULD be having children, and not just one or two for the most part,(and remember, I believe that God is Lord over each couple, that some are called to have one child, others none, and others to have 13 and that it's not MY job to tell them)--
but if we are going to promote HAVING babies we need to be promoting efficient parenting techniques as well. Because the image of the drowning housewife who is overrun by rowdy kids is one society sells us on a regular basis-- how many times a DAY on any given outing do people make comments to me, the mother of three, about how atrocious motherhood is EVEN THOUGH my kids are well-behaved?? I can only imagine being the parent of seven, or twelve!

The thing is, guys, the Bible has the answers about your fertility but it doesn't leave you hanging when it comes to parenting-- it has those answers too! And you don't need ME to teach them to you: spend a few days pouring over Proverbs and make a list of the scriptures that pertain to parenting, you will find yourself with a pretty good picture of what a good, godly parent looks like. No, there ARE answers, and we CAN find them in two places: in the Bible, and in the teachings of the Church.

Which is why I was absolutely horrified and disgusted to find an article in the CCL's magazine, Family Foundations, highlighting the Sears family and their "attachment parenting" teachings as solid Catholic Truth to all the NFP couples who depend on this magazine for support in training and raising their little ones.

Let me start by saying that I am FIRMLY against the fundamental concepts of Attachment Parenting, as you well know, believing two things about it:

1. Attachment Parenting operates under a false premise and paints a false picture of "non-AP parents."
It is not a "new idea" or "revolutionary" that we must meet our children's NEEDS. Every parenting philosophy from the beginning of time keeps this fundamental principle in mind and all parents should theoretically agree on it.
To set those who do not practice Attachment Parenting and do practice corporal punishment as "not compassionate" or "unkind" is absolutely preposterous. It is not an average non-AP parent who ENJOYS spanking her children or letting them cry it out periodically, but rather she recognizes that it is the best thing for the child-- just as she doesn't like saying "No, you cannot have another cookie" to a smiling, gleeful two year old. What kind of parents would we be if we constantly indulged our children and responded to them by giving in to their every whim and desire? Terrible ones. Ones who are building selfish little monsters who always get their way. Which is why I RESENT the implication that non-AP parents are unkind. We are long-term thinkers. We are giving our children love that is neither emotionally-driven nor self-serving, because often the REWARDS of our parenting style come not immediately but in the long term, when we observe good character and virtue and thankfulness in our children. A child who has been corrected will not be happy about it at the time. He will not indulge the parent with loving behavior and a sweet disposition right away. However, when the same situation arises, the corrected child will then CHANGE his behavior, and thus the desired results are achieved. Non-Ap parents are concerned with our children's HEARTS, not their actions. We are particularly attentive to the underlying belief patterns that form behavior, and diligent to correct those as they present themselves wrong. We do not distract, redirect, or remove the temptation from the child as a general rule. We teach them to overcome their unhealthy desires. It's a winning style of parenting, and it is far more challenging than the AP style of parenting, if nothing else because if you do not respond to your child with constant emotional flattery and warm mushy feelings, you will not always be "popular" right off the bat. You will frustrate. You will annoy.
AP operates on a FALSE premise, which is that non-adherents are wrong about their children's abilities, mean, and callous. No. We are talking about warm, happy, loving families here.

2. Dr Sears and his wife alongside AP Parenting adherents present corporal punishment as "unbiblical," "unhealthy" and "incorrect." The reality is that there is absolutely nothing in the Bible, nor in modern psychological SCIENCE that proves such a thing, even though it pretends to.
First, psychology is a soft science, and we must be careful not to accept it's hypotheses, polls,statistics, recommendations and ideas as "fact." I address Roman Catholics here, and say that the Church has NEVER pronounced a judgement regarding corporal punishment- it fully allows each individual family to make the decision to use or not use spanking as a tool for discipline, provided that the child is harmed neither emotionally nor physically. Thus those of us who care what God thinks will turn to the Word to see if IT has anything to say. And it does. Again, I will not give you a Bible study here but suffice to say that if you do as I recommended and take down all of the parenting verses and do the word research yourselves, you will find that corporal punishment is in actuality a perfectly recommended form of discipline according to the Bible. That being said, I don't know a single parent who believes in spanking who says that you MUST spank your child. Simply that you can because it is effective.
However, AP parenting does just the opposite- it paints an unfair and completely inaccurate portrayal of the Spanking Parent, and as such is not a reliable source for parenting information.

Which is why I was absolutely disgusted to find a HUGE article about parenting like the Sears family in this issue of Family Foundations, the Couple to Couple League's magazine destined for reading by parents who are learning to accept more children into their marriages as a blessing. WHY? In the interview, the Sears family contrasted their experiences as protesants being told to parent a certain way with their experience of returning to Catholicism, going so far as to say that "The Catholic way of discipline is typically not based on spanking." I'm sorry, WHAT? The last time I checked the ONLY official stance of the Roman Catholic Church can be found in CCC 2223:

Parents have the first responsibility for the education of their children. They bear witness to this responsibility first by creating a home where tenderness, forgiveness, respect, fidelity, and disinterested service are the rule. The home is well suited for education in the virtues. This requires an apprenticeship in self-denial, sound judgment, and self-mastery -- the preconditions of all true freedom. Parents should teach their children to subordinate the "material and instinctual dimensions to interior and spiritual ones." Parents have a grave responsibility to give good example to their children. By knowing how to acknowledge their own failings to their children, parents will be better able to guide and correct them:

He who loves his son will not spare the rod. ... He who disciplines his son will profit by him.

Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger, but bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord.

Basically, if you're Dr or Mrs Sears and you're teaching that the Catholic Church teaches AP parenting, or you are the Editor of the CCL and promulgating this information to your readers without sharing the other side of the story, shame on you!

The facts are that the Roman Catholic Church promotes openness to life and responsible parenting, and that it is up to the individual couple to educate themselves via scripture and Church doctrine insofar as what that might mean. Don't be fooled-- Attachment Parenting is NOT the "Catholic" parenting solution, nor is it the "ONLY" responsible parenting solution. I am deeply disappointed that an organization which so many Catholic parents hold in high esteem would spread such distasteful false doctrine among it's unsuspecting readers. Much damage is done to children and new moms who swallow the AP pill.

To be FAIR to the AP crowd who will inevitably read this, I do believe your purpose is well-intentioned, albeit misguided. You want people to nurture children. I'm all for that-- our job is to nurture our children, to provide for their true needs, to build a bond with them and to provide them with unconditional love and security. On this we agree and there is much goodness here. I think a sensible, AP-Parenting family who understands the need for setting boundaries and correction can still create a "good" child. I am not doubting your methods or convictions if you meet the above criteria.

The main issue I have with AP Parenting is the assertion it makes that a spanking or that a failure to pick up a crying baby -- one whose other needs have been fully met but just wants to be picked up-- results in HARM to a child. While it would be easier to assert the opposite and prove it, I'm not going to bother. I will simply say that I find the promotion of AP parenting which is ALL OVER our modern culture from books to magazines to websites to be dishonest and utterly frightening in it's propagandist methods and its purpose to quickly and efficiently remove all parents who do NOT parent the same way from society, to question their sanity, or to accuse them of abuse.

How DARE the CCL's Family Foundations Magazine Editors promote the Popcaks (of Parenting with Grace) or the Sears as "experts" in Catholic Parenting?? Exactly what are their qualifications? For NFP users and Catholic readers of Family Foundations believe that Holy Scripture AS INTERPRETED BY THE Magesterium, and ONLY the Magesterium, may tell the rest of us how we are to live.

For those readers who are interested in either hearing a sensible defense of the idea that spanking might not just be "acceptable" but "good" parenting, and for those who seek to understand why many of us are so passionate about NOT Attachment parenting our children, I present to you an article written by a Tennesse Preacher who ministers mostly to Amish and plain people. This man and his wife once wrote a book entitled To Train up a Child which was given to me when I had my first child. The information and ideas in this book are so simple-- it teaches that children are watching and are smart, so that we are constantly training them one way or another by our actions. Thus the premise of this book is that when the Bible says to "Train up a child" it literally means it-- we are to purposely train our children, working with them to teach them basic obedience and good sense not "on the side" as we go through life but by setting them up in situations where they will learn, thus eliminating the frustration of corrective discipline almost altogether. This idea horrifies most people who have been brought up as parents with the AP mindset because it directly recommends what they call "over-parenting" but what we call "immediate obedience and respect for parental authority and involvement." Because of their position, the Pearls have been vilified and accused of every form of abuse and atrocity, alongside anyone who (like me) would dare to recommend them to members of our psychologized and utterly brainwashed socialist society.
Therefore, I HIGHLY recommend that if you have a problem with what you've read here or can't understand the reason I and many like me are so vehemently anti-AP,you read the following apologia by Michael Pearl on the varying methods most spanking parents will use. This does not mean that I think the Pearls are "perfect." As I said, it is the Magesterium, and the Magesterium alone, who has the authority to dictate exactly WHAT parental discipline should look like. My family does not personally use all of the methods laid out by the Pearls or ANY "parenting teacher." We prayed about it, studied our bibles, and asked those people we know and respect who have what we consider to be "good" grown children what they had done, developped a plan, and implemented it.

Nevertheless, I am asking you to read this article because it says what I would want to say to you, readers, in such a way that I hope you will come to understand that we are not raging for no reason-- there is a definite satanic plan in place to destroy the family any way he can. The AP parenting technique is a lie. The fear of spanking, obedience training, and parental authority and involvement is a lie. A lie which virtually everyone in this society is being conditioned to believe. Which is why I am disgusted to read this lie in a magazine that Catholics all over America probably consider "Gospel Truth" when it comes to parenting and what fertility is.
Though I do not doctrinally "line up" 100 percent with the Pearls in matters of theology, in matters of common sense living I think there are very few teachers/ministers available to the American public who do a good job helping families to grow together in love and mutual charity and respect. Their wisdom comes from years of raising their own family and is not "theoretical" but practical and proven. I credit their book, "Created to be a Help Meet" with saving my marriage, and their book "To Train up a Child" with giving me much food for thought with regards to the PURPOSE of our parenting. So if you are looking for a good alternative parenting option, I recommend the folks at No Greater Joy and at Raising Godly Tomatoes to everyone I know.

His excellent article explaining why the proliferation of AP teaching is dangerous can be found HERE

A PERSONAL NOTE: ANY ATTEMPTS TO ENGAGE ME FURTHER IN COMMENTS ABOUT MY PERSONAL PARENTING PRACTICES WILL BE IGNORED, SO DON'T BOTHER. THIS IS NOT ABOUT HOW I PARENT BUT RATHER ABOUT WHAT A CATHOLIC ORGANIZATION SHOULD AND SHOULD NOT PROMOTE AS "CATHOLIC" PARENTING. THANK YOU.

Seasonal change

September is quickly passing by and is the deadline I had set to make some changes that I hope will increase my productivity in the things that really matter. The reality is that I pour energy and time into facebook, twitter and my blog when I could be helping my family out by pouring that time into working on my book and editing projects. I do it because I love to encourage you, but I think that things will be more coherent, more encouraging AND more useful to you AND me if I focus on writing my book.

I am also just starting to have a baby who is old enough NOT to be held most moments in the day so I think I'm going to be able to get back to knitting and sewing more, as well as to working out and physical exercise more, which I am ecstatic about as I have REALLY missed each of these parts of my life very much.

I am committed to helping my husband out and so I must slow down on the blogging even more than I already have and REALLY focus. So I apologize if my posts become few and far between until next Spring, but that's what I've got to do! Praying for you all and thankful to be on the journey with you. Please pray for me in this new season and help keep me accountable if I start posting a lot anytime soon. :P

Blessings!

JDubs and Working women. Who needs to leave the house?

My Father in Law decided to have a consultant come by today for a visit to talk about ways to reduce his taxes and certain types of financial decisions that might help him. Wayne and I cleaned up the dining room and the kids so they would be comfortable, and I made a lunch so we could all stay outside and keep the noise level down while they talked.

She came in and seemed like such a nice and interesting woman-- very pretty, dressed in business attire and very confident. She spoke warmly about her neighborhood and her family, and then he began to introduce all of us. As he counted the kids' heads and shared a little something about each one of them and me, she listened and said hello. But as soon as she was introduced to me, she said: "Well, bless your heart! I know it's tough, mama, but it will get better soon. Before you know it they will be out of the house and you can relax. I KNOW it's tough. Don't worry, it's not forever. Bless your heart. All these kids running around. My goodness!"
I smiled politely, and said: "Best job in the world." And I meant it. Funny how I don't even have to leave my house to get fed a dose of the world's false ideas about parenting.

Shortly thereafter, we were on the porch and I started to notice a ton of cars pooling around the top of the hill. Out came men, in pairs, wearing suits and ties in the early September heat. I always get a thrill when the missionaries come a knockin', mostly because I LOVE to discuss religion with other people who are as passionate about it as I am.
As they came up my driveway, I understood that they were Jehova's Witnesses from the books they were carrying, so familiar to me from my time with the J-Dubs. It was providential for them that I was out there and not my FIL, nor my husband or his brother who were both home at the time, because they would have loved the opportunity to send them packing. The kids and I said hello and we passed around introductions. I let them give me the "Are you concerned about all of the violence and crime in the world?" opener, and followed along with them as they read to me from Proverbs about where to find wisdom for life. They were impressed that I was able to follow along from my own bible, which was sitting beside me when they walked up. I let them give me the line from their new go-to book about how knowledge of the Scriptures was the answer, and listened to the closer about how they had the answers and would be willing to give me a free bible study to help me learn The Truth.
At that point, I stopped him, and very gently explained that I was absolutely where I felt I was supposed to be, that I wasn't seeking, and that I thanked them so much for taking the time to worry about my soul. I told him that though I had known what he was trying to do, I had let him talk because it was good practice and I hoped he didn't mind. He laughed at that. We talked a little more.

They were AMAZED that I knew about Jehova's Witnesses, respected them, didn't disagree with them in too many areas, and yet didn't want to BE a witness. They asked me to explain further, so I told them that I thank God for my past encounters with Jehova's Witnesses, through whom I had gleaned above all a devotion to the Word of God. It was them who taught me to search the scriptures, and through them I gained such a deep appreciation of scripture. God can use anything and anyone!

I also learned to be set apart from the world-- when I spent time with other Jehova's Witnesses, I was ALWAYS amazed at what a good life they led. Honest, hard working, and full of charity, the people I saw put others first and had a genuine love of scripture study-- their get togethers were so wholesome and enjoyable without any EXTERNAL, anyways, signs of vice or violence. Is there other stuff there? Absolutely. I've heard some firsthand accounts that were just awful about being "inside" the cult of the WatchTower, stories that were devastating.

But ultimately? I can't help but admire the tenacity and righteousness of a people who spend their OWN money to go door to door telling people about the hope they have, only to be met with door slams, lying, and even threats of violence. Nothing deters them from what they consider their holy duty. And why don't we do this? Why don't we go from door to door in pairs sharing the good news? We would do well to watch and learn. If there were Catholic groups doing this, I'd be the first to sign up-- what a blessing to be able to spread the Word from house to house!

When they left, my kids waved them off. Ishod gave them a firm handshake and Annika thanked them for coming to our house to tell us about the God and the Bible. She reminded them to pray for us and promised to pray for them. And they smiled and went on their way. A few minutes later, my brother in law and father in law came out, visibly sad they had missed the opportunity to "shut them down."

But blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth!

I thank God for my little encounters this morning, all good reminders to be good and do good, to live my life as a testimony to others for the convictions I have. When these people showed up, I was outside playing with the kids and reading the Bible to them.How cool is that? We were living witnesses of the truth.

Review: The Last Exorcism

SPOILER WARNING

I went to a movie with some girlfriends yesterday. It was the first time in months I'd been to see anything, so the entire experience was totally thrilling for me... and quite amazing when you consider that the last time I was a regular movie-goer, all it took was ten bucks to get you a show and some popcorn.





The Last Exorcist left me scratching my head and my heart. It's not so much that I was trying to decide if I loved it or hated it, but rather that I found it simultaneously brilliant and mindbogglingly moronic, and that while the film itself was not frightening, it's potential impact on society and on the modern view of exorcism terrified me.

Let me say right off the bat that this is not an "important" film. I live with this faint hope that every new movie on the topic of demonology I might see will somehow finally have it all together and give an accurate portrayal of demonic activity. One that incorporates a proper worldview, accurate description of symptoms, and cuases, and a healthy and skeptical view of psychology.
This was not one of those, although it contained elements which gave me the impression throughout that this might finally be it. It was very disappointing.

There is a current trend in Hollywood to discredit and mock Christianity. Even in the previews, that element was magnified throughout each clip, so I wasn't totally surprised to see the film open on a total mockery of your average evangelical charismatic experience.
The scene opens on a typical Southern Sunday morning- a nice looking family is getting ready for Church. The Pastor is preaching and the place is hopping. Literally. It's a pentacostal/holiness type environment. Very charismatic.
As the scene unravels, it becomes clear that the pastor who is preaching operates out of total hilarity instead of sincerity. Everything is a joke to him, and as he explains to the off-screen cameraman filming his documentary, it's all a manipulation.

I'm not the type of person to get bent out of shape and outraged over films mocking Christianity... after all, I believe in Eternal Justice. And in personal freedoms. However, I wasn't quite braced for the immensity of the mocking that was about to ensue. At the same time, as I watched it unfold, I found myself wanting to stand up and cheer-- because the "Christianity" that it was mocking is EXACTLY why I left the protestant world and came home to Rome. Manipulation of the senses, incomplete theology, and a general sense that one must leave one's intellect at the door all contributed to this feeling that there had to be more out there. The opening of this film is all about that.

The film opens with the story of the family of a pastor named Cotton Marcus who "fell into" pastoring because he was a pastor's kid. Like all PKs, he grew up seeing the "fill-the-pews business" in action. Preaching his first packed house at the ripe old age of ten, Cotton grew up speaking Christianese and simultaneously wondering what the heck was going on around him when he knew others were "faking it" too. Part of his upbringing was, of course, deliverance work, something all the God-fearing men before him appear to have had a special "gifting" for, as evidenced by the Really Old Book he inherits from his father which contains-- get this-- the names of all the demons in existence.

Ok, break to my inner facepalm moment. Why? Because I've been in the deliverance field for over 12 years and I've never in my life encountered a person or book that could name ALL the demons. At the same time, in 12 years, I've probably encountered more than 10, 000 people/books/apps which claim to.
A demon's name is virtually irrelevant. It will tell you something about his character if you are a very old, very learned, very experienced exorcist. Other than that, there is not a person on the planet, Fr Gabriel Amorth included, who "knows all the demons' names." And we don't have to! The fact is, it truly isn't all that important. A name is not a magic formula that gives you power over someone, despite what all the goth kids in high school wanted you to believe. The only name which will one day cause all knees to bow is Jesus.
Superstition and pride abound in this field, and of all the giant red flags I have that go up when I'm partnered with an inexperienced deliverance minister, the Name Game is one of the most obvious. It is a myth and fallacy that we must first discover a fallen angel's name before casting it out. It is often not even necessary to know anything about it at all-- virtually everything which comes out of a demon's "mouth" is a lie from the pit of hell anyhow, designed to confuse and obstruct the exorcist. It's as painful to hear someone claim to have a "resource" for demonic names as it is to watch Ryan Buell hush his paranormal group when he writes "THE NAME" of the alleged demon that's following him on a mysterious hidden piece of paper, further shocking his audience for wow-value when he reveals the alleged-name-we-cannot-say over TELEVISION for all to repeat if his hypothesis is correct, thus theoretically condemning all his viewers to a life of pursuit by said dangerous demon.
If there's anything I've learned in all these years, it's that most demons are quite dumb (not in an intelligence sense- they are clearly more "knowledgeable" than you or I, but in a personality sense) because the majority of demons people encounter are lower echalon, bottom-of-the-barrel critters who operate solely on the orders and at the command of other demons which certainly don't have time bothering most individual people. They are busy commanding nations and battlefields, hovering patiently over the UN, the Denver airport, and the Vatican in thick clouds of darkness. Heehee.

OK, back to the movie. So there I was, sitting in my seat, kind of outraged at my own self as I giggled helplessly over the sheer brilliance of this guys' perfect fake-out of the Christian walk. At the same time, I wanted to cheer-- this stuff NEEDS to be said! It needs to be addressed in Christianity today, it is something we Christians find very uncomfortable for a good enough reason. It's the uncomfortable truth that shows that "Churchiness" doesn't work. There is no power in churchiness.

The purpose of the film was to document him doing an exorcism in order to demonstrate that exorcism is bogus. At first, you're thinking-- what a creep. But then you realize, this is a man acting on a powerful personal conviction. He explains that seeing a child who was harmed during an exorcism ritual is the cause behind his gig. Completely outraged, he decided once and for all to expose exorcism for what it is: a fraud that makes people who THINK they are possessed feel better.

In order to do this he has a literal bag of tricks-- a smoking crucifix, rings that push voltage through a person causing them to seize, speakers and fake demon growls, and fishing line designed to secretly move items around the room. The Works. Cotton is determined to do this for a good cause-- after all he wants to help the children, right? And this is where it begins to get frustrating to me.

In a moment of explanation when you, the viewer, are really connecting with him and his "good heart," he holds up a document (an ACTUAL document) put out by the Vatican which describes their new School of Exorcism. And proceeds to talk about how annoying it is to him that this is allowed...as if just any yahoo off the street can now become a Vatican-Sanctioned exorcist.

No. A Roman Catholic exorcist is a demonstrably mature Roman Catholic Priest appointed by a Bishop, thus a responsible single male with six years of theological and interpersonal training and eduction, either assisted by or himself a psychologist and / or medical doctor. That's not the kind of level-headed approach to the topic that his anger is directed at. And it's misleading to the viewers who are watching this movie, as I am, shaking their heads "YES, Cotton, preach it! This whole exorcism thing is out of control!"

So, there we have Big Mistake Number One: equating Roman Catholicism to Protestantism.... our methods are not their methods. Our ways are not their ways. First of all, we INVENTED exorcism... or rather, the methods we use were directly taught by Our Lord to the Apostles and they haven't changed a bit since then-- that is, until Vatican II, but don't get me started.:P

All this to say that the image of Bob Larsen, exorcist, on TV slathering foreheads in holy oil or even that Cotton himself is using-- well, those images are Catholic in nature because we have sacramentals. We believe that OBJECTS can hold power, either positive or negative, and by the authority of our Church we use these items to do good and advance the Kingdom of God. Protestant theology is a bit shaky in this department- and certainly inconsistent (if you use an object in a rite or ritual, by what authority is the object consecrated one way or the other? Aren't you putting your faith in an object and not God, directly? It's ok for you to plant stakes with scripture written on them at the four corners of your house, but it's not ok for me to burn incense and think it's "doing something?" etc etc.) These questions are no bother to a Catholic because we have a clear cut, logical and sensible answer to every "why?" But they are very bothersome to someone like me when I see a protestant person use them. In fact, they scream superstition...
I have infinitely more respect for protestant persons in the deliverance field who exorcise demons by the power of prayer through faith alone (and maybe the laying on of hands) than those protestants who brandish crosses with zeal and slap the demonized around theatrically with their Bibles. But I digress.

Cotton's "Last Exorcism" is on a seriously secluded farm in backwoods Louisiana. Awesome setting for us paranormal people, who know that Louisiana is indeed a dark and mysterious area. He is accompanied by an impossibly hip young woman wearing -- seriously?-- red Doc Martens, and an invisible camera man we never really meet.
The first few moments of his creep up the dirt road leading to the Sweetzer farm we encounter the Sweetzer son, an obviously disturbed young man whom we are certain is going to be The One. However upon further investigation, we are told that it's really his impossibly sweet younger sister who is the possessed person, as explained by her highly gullible, hard working, God-fearing alcoholic father. The mother has died, and the well-intentioned but thoroughly ignorant father, determined to teach the children some religion, has pulled the kids out of school AND Sunday school with the local pastor, whom he found to be just "not enough" as far as instilling The True Faith goes.

Lo and behold, Cotton manages to manipulate the dad into giving the girl an exorcism, and he goes upstairs to rig the room so that he can deliver the powerful theatrics he came ready to show us, the viewers.
Up until this point, I'm thoroughly entertained-- engrossed even-- in the plot and definitely interested to see what transpires, although I've already guessed that "this time" things aren't going to go exactly as smoothly as he had planned. Moving along in the story, he conducts the fake exorcism, fake delivers the girl, and then goes home to a nasty motel with his crew where he will wait for morning.

And that's when it gets interesting, although you wouldn't know it from the choppy editorial choices and the sheer chaos that represents the transition into the film's "Deeper" plot. The girl somehow makes it to his hotel room and , as if in a trance, proceeds with what can only be described as classic horror flick scene complete with oatmeal-looking vomit and a small taste of potential lesbian foreplay. I was kinda like... REALLY? It was a true disappointment that the movie had taken such a generic turn, but I accepted that it "had to be" if the movie was going to continue on the path it was on towards true symptomatic possession.

I'll spare you the details, because quite honestly, they are pretty much the standard for exorcism-genre movies and you've seen or heard almost all of them before.... little girl with wierd drawings, memory lapses, sudden strange behavior which progresses in creepiness, and suddenly the flick got downright WEIRD.

I have a true distaste for slasher flicks. While I absolutely LOVE horror films, I don't usually watch them if they are graphically violent. I'm not interested in seeing people be dismembered or in watching buckets of blood splatter in every direction. I like psychological thrillers- movies that make you think. I don't mind a little graphic bloodshed, but I draw the line at gratuitous violence, and this movie is FULL of gratuitous violence. I had to sit and watch a cat get torn to pieces. Literally. Virtually every interaction with the possessed girl was drenched in blood and guts... even random nasty eye poking. Yuck. Now, I will say that I've seen enough actual demonic disregard for the human body to know that things CAN and sometimes do get utterly disgusting. But the reality of that experience is far more sober and less gleeful. It's heartbreaking to see a person cut himself or another. It's not the kind of thing you want to be shoving fistfuls of popcorn in your mouth at, which was what the people around us seemed to be doing... and that's because the director didn't show the violence of possession in an intelligent, realistic manner. This was obviously all about the horror-genre glory in blood and guts.

In a world where people will actually pay money to see SIX (or however many) movies about a stupid wheelchair bound clown-faced creep who devises and implements torture methods onscreen for two hours a piece (SAW, I'm looking in your direction, and I'm not smiling, you sick bastards...) I guess I just have to accept that mind-numbing visual violence that utterly negates the HUMANNESS of the human body is something Hollywood is OK with promoting. Surprise!

However, there were some incredible connections that stirred me on some level as well. The suspense was well-handled, although often quite contrived. The representations of the symptoms of possessions were also well-handled, yet at other times completely off-target. I found myself getting extremely uncomfortable in certain scenes that hit too close to home...Scenes that were all too familiar to those of us who have encountered the devil's handiwork in so obvious a way. The darkening of the eyes, constricting and bubbling of the throat, and unnatural movements, contortions and noise-throwing, conversations with invisible persons which clammed up as Cotton and his crew walked in the door... these were exaggerated, but certainly brought me back to places and situations that have left me changed and unnerved to say the least.
On the other hand, Cotton's obvious TOTAL naivete with regards to actual demonic possession (and -- hello, it's a horror movie-- TOTAL lack of common sense) left me literally wanting to shout at the screen. Aside from the classic "WHAT are you doing?" and "DON'T GO IN THERE" moments I was struggling to contain, I was also holding back "YOU IDOT! IT'S A DEMON, ALL IT DOES IS LIE!" and "IF YOU THINK YOU CAN CONTAIN YOUR PROBLEM LIKE THAT, YOU ARE A MORON. WHAT PART OF NOT A PHYSICAL ENTITY DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?"
Fortunately for my friends and fellow movie-goers, I managed to hold most of it in. :P

We follow the "girl has demon" plot for quite a while, trying to pick our way through random pieces of info ("she's pregnant!" "she's only psychotic!") and to dissect our own judgements ("her dad's the father! no! It's the brother!) and I admit, it's definitely intreguing, albeit mostly inconsistent with what I know about actual possession and exorcism.
A few examples: While the girl is having possessed "episodes," she is unconscious and/or unaware. Outside of these, she doesn't have a sweet clue there is anything inside her. This is totally inconsistent with my life experience,in which people who seek help for demonization are fully aware that they are doing things they don't want to do and are often acting against their own wills. Yes, they can lose consciousness and "make room" for the demon, but more often than not with a little prying we find they are perfectly aware of the difficulties they encounter in living a "normal" life AS THEY WOULD LIKE. (for example, they experience mental confusion whenever they go to pray, and are aware of this fact.)You don't submit to an exorcism because someone ELSE wants you to. At least, I hope not.
Secondly, there is ordinarily a very distinct break in a person's pre-possessed and post-possessed personality. People become markedly different, whereas she remains as sweet and innocent and naive as ever with no major change in personality.

Nevertheless, we press on, watching her go from bad to worse and wondering what Cotton is going to do to help her. What was cool about what ensued was that when Cotton finally came to believe she was possessed and not crazy, some glimmer of actual faith began to propel him and he offered her a second exorcism, promising that this one would, indeed, work. As the power of his faith is unleashed, the exorcism proceeds in the usual manner (and in a super creepy looking shack, no less) with Surprise! the arrival of the ACTUAL demon Cotton had unleashed from his Super Old Demon Name Book with the rudder-like power of his smooth-talking charismatic tongue only hours before in the Sweetzer living room. Only SURPRISE! (Yes, again.)The girl is faking it.... her own super-innocence gives her away and the audience is left schizophrenically shifting from certain conviction of her actual possession to unswerving faith in her total insanity or victimhood and mental capacity to make it up and back again.

At this point, despite the lack of realism and the unoriginal gimmickness factor, I was thoroughly engrossed in the story and entertained.

And that's when it happened- the story line took a turn I was so baffled by I'm still shaking my head going WHAT? WHY??

Ultimately, the ending was enraging. On a purely film/art basis, I was utterly disgusted with the choice to cheese it up and make an obviously unrealistic and purposely idiotic ending.
Cotton discovers that virtually every character we've encountered thus far is a member of a satanic coven engaged in a black mass-type exercise complete with virgin-on-the-altar (Guess who?) with a woman pulling a bloody red baby from her womb to throw into a nearby fire. (YES, that's right, this ending is so freaking lame that a FULL GROWN BABY was pulled from the womb of a girl who was supposed to be only a few weeks pregnant!) What's worse, the very last scene was a downright copy of the Blair Witch Project's last scene. For shaaaaaaaaaame, as I say to my kids.

Then it hit me! That was the sickest and most brilliant thing that Satan himself did with this movie-- the cheese whiz lamesauce ending did what it was supposed to do: it discredited both demonic possession and in particular possession stemming from Satanic Ritual Abuse. People, and in particular the mind-bogglingly wealthy creators of culture in our western society, celebrities and the media have unceasingly waged war on reality by attempting to paint what God has called good evil and what God has called evil good.

I have seen with my own eyes that Satanic Covens and Cults do indeed exist. I have uncovered pockets in our country's landscape where they hold great power, and pockets in our society's socio-political and cultural structure from where they rule and reign. I have seen with my own eyes what happens to victims of Satanic Ritual Abuse, and what SRA will do to people spiritually, as I have prayed both for and with self-proclaimed victims and perpetrators of SRA. To cheapen or diminish this important thing- this crucial knowledge- which so very few of us (shoutout to Vigilant Citizen)have tried to inform others about is to wage war against God and against man, for it is MAN who will suffer greatly from a lack of fear of evil.

It has often been said that Satanic Ritual Abuse is a myth and a lie and that no "educated" person can believe in it. And yet I have seen it, so I must believe. It has been said that Demonic Possession walks too fine a line and that with advances in science we see fewer and fewer cases of ACTUAL possession, if any at all. And yet I have seen it, and so I must believe.

I walked into "The Last Exorcism" like most Americans, expecting to walk into a movie that demonstrated that we can cheat God for only so long before the reality of heaven and hell descends upon us. Instead, I was spoonfed the message that the very core of God's Gospel, the battle between good and evil, is too cheesy, theatrical and contrived to actually be TRUE. Worse, that's its so confusing that it's become comical and that all I need do is to stop thinking and sit back and allow myself to be emotionally and intellectually manipulated because I might actually enjoy it.

And that's what I was left with-- a movie that had so much creative potential to be artistically brilliant that absolutely sucked, and a movie that had so much potential to speak to people on a profound spiritual level that absolutely failed. Worse yet-- it purposely destroyed its own capacity for greatness graphically in order to destroy you morally.

Don't believe the hype, America. The forces of good and the forces of evil are truly locked over your very heads at every moment of every day. You see them on the news and they don't even phase you because you aren't even paying attention. Watch The Last Exorcist and see if you don't come out with a troubled and disappointed spirit. Everything has the power to speak to you if you let it. Choose carefully which voices you heed.

The Road to Carmel- a testimony.

In my Carmelite Community each month, a professed member stands up and tells us his or her "Road to Carmel," the testimony of their lives as Christians, Catholics and Carmelites. It is always amazing to listen to each person give witness to the life of the Holy Spirit within them, and I usually end up in tears.
Tonight, I'm going to end up in tears as I write my own, but for a different reason. I've got to leave the Carmelite order, and yet remain a Carmelite in my soul. Something which I've grown to live and breathe I've got to let go of because, as Christ said, "Even if your eye causes you to sin, you must pluck it out." For someone like me, who escapes into fantasy rather than face grim reality, the soul must constantly work towards discipline in the area of giving itself in love.
This, then, is my "Road to Carmel" in reverse-- how I came to the Holy mountain and why I must now climb it in disguise.


I was born into a family with multiple religious backgrounds the majority of whom were strong, faithful Catholics. I had early exposure to all sorts of religious experiences, which helped me to easily find the "common denominator" amongst the various world religions. Nevertheless, I consider myself a "cradle catholic" because I was born into a Catholic family and baptized Catholic at birth.

Culturally, my immediate family was absolutely Catholic: we went to mass each Sunday, fasted Fridays in lent, learned our basic prayers, and went to CCD. The interior lives of my parents, however, were very different: my mother was extremely private about her faith and rarely prayed "personal" prayers with us, rather communicating the faith to us via the ins and out of Catholic daily rhythm. My father, being a Baby Boomer, was certainly more inclined to discuss zen buddhist theories and ideas or to talk to us about greek mythology or the hindu pantheon. He cared very much that his children grow to be educated and informed about the "rest of the world" and that we be exposed to as much thinking material as humanly possible. We became great readers thanks to this ideology.

I grew up very influenced by the sixties and everything that it represented, by its music and feminism and drug culture ( which was rampant all around me) and by the idea of "me first" and "whatever floats your boat."

Because I was multi-cultural -- I lived in France and I lived in Santa Barbara, California, and I traveled often to various places around the world-- and because my parents were intellectuals, and college professors, and because I was surrounded by riches and "the elite," I developed a strong sense of self-importance and irresponsibility combined with an emotionalism and a spirit of adventure. Basically, I was a one-way road to complete destruction.
I was smart, so I bored easily in school, and I had been abused and molested as a young girl, so I looked for love in all the wrong places. I was surrounded by celebrity culture, and everywhere I looked people had every imaginable luxury and were bored beyond belief. Bored and very, very rich.

By the time I was twelve I smoked pot regularly and by the time I was fourteen I was doing Chrystal Meth lines between classes (and even IN class!!) and looking for trouble all day and night.
I thought what I needed, in order to be happy, was FREEDOM above all else. I valued my freedom: freedom to think how I pleased, to do what I wanted, and to be left alone with my thoughts. More importantly, I wanted absolute freedom from God.
At the same time, I longed for what was the only religious experience I believed in: love. Thought I had an endless parade of boyfriends (and even girlfriends!) I could find no one to fill the void in my heart and eventually I had to admit that I was in lack.
This obsession with finding the "perfect other" was so great that it drew me into endless bouts of depression and misery and caused me to lay aside the pursuit of other, nobler things such as actually completing my education, or investing in the pursuit of a career.

Nevertheless I had very good "luck." Looking back, I see that God protected me despite my disgusting behavior and outrageous sense of self-importance. Though many of my friends from that time have died, I am still alive. Though we saw every form of danger (legal danger, car accidents, and various deadly drug mixtures, unsafe sexual practices etc.) I managed to survive it all without lasting external consequences. I did very well in the classes I enjoyed, excelled in dance and journalism, my college major and minor, and had incredible jobs that others who had graduate degrees foamed at the mouth to get. I worked for publishers that English majors coveted, and several newspapers which made me look... well.... like I was going somewhere. But I was going nowhere, as my life was completely turned over to Satan and rebellion against God.

I occasionally called upon God for help, but more often than not I ignored him or flat out attempted to manipulate him through sorcery or other occult techniques. I thought I was very spiritual, but in reality my spirit was dead. I had respect for no one, especially not God.
I believed I was happy. I believed that I was on the right track... and as money, sex, drugs and rock and roll paraded through my life in one giant party, I discovered something new about myself that I didn't like much: I knew I was guilty.

In my quest for love, I often found "it" in the form of a short, passionate relationship with some young man who would have killed lions for me. Little by little, I offed these men after giving them a promise of forever with both my words and my body because THEY BORED ME. I was such a sick person, at that time, that I felt that if I wasn't experiencing the thrill of a new relationship with all of it's sexual and psychological promise for fulfillment, I grew weary of the day-to-day drudgery and quickly tossed them aside for a new and shinier thrill. My inclination to feminist thought and my total disrespect for life, authority, humanity, and myself made it easy to justify on my own end, and I told myself that these men (and occasionally, women) were simply not up to the task of taming me... that once I found the "right" person, he would know just how to do that. I was in one of these drug-addled, sex-crazed, irresponsible frames of mind the day of Christmas Eve, 1998.

On that day, I was "engaged" to be married to a man I lived with, Marc, who was a pseudo-intellectual overaged teenager who couldn't hold a job to save his life. Though he had absolutely no faith in God, once a month we would have to pretend to be a Spirit Filled, Evangelical couple when his die-hard Christian Truck Driving dad would plow through our hometown since he wrote the checks on which we lived. Marc would coach me through the "Christianese" lingo (seeing as how I had absolutely NO experience with evangelicals) and once the weekend and all it's formalities were over, it was back to the Wildcat Lounge for us. I was, however, intregued by the Bible.
As a young Catholic, I had been given a paperback copy to thumb in various retreats by the Franciscan Monks at the mission. These books were old and torn and held little value for me, so I didn't really pay attention to the life giving words they contained. At my confirmation, my sponsor, a sweet little mexican woman, gave me a very nice gift edition of the NAB. I held onto it, but never really opened it. Later on in my life, I had dated and eventually gotten very serious with a young man whose parents happened to be Jehova's Witnesses. When I got over the shock of discovering that such utterly wonderful and normal-seeming people could be members of what I'd always assumed was a seriously nutty cult, I grew fascinated with talking about religion with them. Years later, when he had moved to America with me and we lived in the guest bedroom of an evangelical Christian who prayed for us daily, and as a practicing wiccan, I often had the Jehova's Witnesses over to talk about the Bible to me. Thank God, He had given me a portion of His confirming Spirit to keep me from becoming a Jehova's Witness, but I thank God for their intervention in my life because they taught me to truly LOVE the Bible: to look at it as the source of Life and the Measuring Stick of Truth and virtue. Needless to say, I didn't know much about the Bible by the time I started doing these monthly encounters with Marc's dad, but I knew a little.

When he rolled through town, he liked to go to a Calvary Chapel down by the beach. I never went with them. But one Christmas Eve, by the Holy Spirit of God, I suddenly felt an urge to grab a bus down there and check it out, alone. What awaited me was an encounter with the Living, Risen Christ.

To minimize this event would be silly, and yet there is not very much to say aside from what I have said: the Pastor was preaching about surrender, and it was a topic I had never pondered before. It was my appointed time: every word that came out of his mouth seemed to be a personal word for me, and every spirit-filled person around me, though they didn't know me, did indeed have a personal word for me. I ended the night on my knees, welcoming the newborn Christ as he was birthed into the place I had just hurriedly prepared for him in my heart, and I knew I would never be the same again. I gave my life to Him, which seemed the only thing left to do, and told Him I was sorry for all the times I'd forgotten he existed.

After that, my life was different. I believed in God, and I wanted to get to know Him and know what to do about it. I also knew that I wasn't a protestant, and that there was a "Catholic" way to go about it. The "Catholic" way seemed full of mystery and difficult, the protestant way seemed light, cheery, optimistic and simple.
I began to go to daily mass, first at the mission I'd grown up at with the Franciscans, then later at a Jesuit Church in the center of town.
I saw only one other young person my age, a young man (I often pray he became a priest!) who seemed extraordinarily serious about his faith. He never paid the least bit of attention to me -- and at the time, most boys paid attention to me, so I found him very intreguing-- but rather remained wholly focused and intent on prayer.
It amazed me that he was a smoker. The protestants I met were all so "pure" and healthy-- they looked like abercrombie and fitch ads, tan and wholesome, never smoked or drank, and didn't curse. This young man, though, would step out of the church, and light up a smoke on his way down the street. And I would wonder-- will I find the path to "holiness" here? I was a smoker too, but I always waited til I was around the bend before I lit up so no one would see me. Even then, I had a terrible, deceitful heart.

I had a rosary that I brought with me everywhere. But I never once prayed it, only pulling it out in times of stress and fingering the beads. I cracked open that NAB and began to go crazy in it, making notations and copying out things I was learning from various sources (Catholic, protestant, jehova's witness.)
I also began to frequent a myspace forum for people interested in discussing religion. Very, very slowly, almost imperceptibly, I began to become a protestant... First going to mass some weeks and church services other days, then frequenting Calvary Chapel at basically every chance I could find. I went to bible seminars and bible studies and courses, and literally drooled all day long, craving the chance to learn more from God's word and a time I could either be alone to pour over it or with others who knew it well and could teach me. I could not get enough.

I met people who impressed me with their dedication to God. People who had answers to the questions I had, who had good reasons for me to change my life and who prayed with me and for me. Over time, I attended college groups and homegroups and discovered the sweetness of fellowship in the Holy Spirit with people of all generations who love God and are devoted to serving Him. I didn't think I was doing anything WRONG by attending these things-- I thought it was great. and it was. But little by little I lost all knowledge of the sacraments. The only things that mattered were the grace I received from repentance and seeking to live a life that was pleasing to God. At the time I was like a sponge, absorbing everything I was told as "Bible Truth," (because clearly,I reasoned, these people KNEW their Bibles, and therefore they KNEW the mind of God.)

Many of them were misguided, or uninformed, and had looked at the Catholic Church and seen what I often see looking around: rows of people going through the motions who don't have a stinking clue. These people encouraged me to renounce Catholicism, to step "out of religion" and "into the life of Faith." I embraced this idea because it was truly my experience-- I had not seen the fruits of the Holy Spirit much in my Catholic exposure, and the times I HAD seen it, I reasoned, it was via the Spirit of God trying to pull people out of dead religion.
It wasn't long before going to Christmas and Easter with my parents at the Mission became an affront to godliness, for me. I would proudly carry my bible in and ask anyone in earshot: "WHERE is that in the Bible?" No one ever knew.

One day, I sat through a sermon that basically asked me to choose between Catholicism and "life in the Spirit." People seemed to be in two camps: either believing that many Catholics could be/were saved based on their relationships with Jesus Christ, (these were the minority) or that no Catholics COULD be saved based on their participation in what scripture deemed "abominations." (idolatry, Mary worship, etc)

I could see a biblcal case for either, and since the label of Catholicism wasn't as important to me as following God, I found it safer to abstain. I wrote to Catholic priests, to family members who were clergy as a favor to my parents, who were outraged at my newfound zeal for religion. I asked all the questions protestants ask Catholics, demanding an answer from scripture. None was ever given me, rather, I got the answer: "God is a mystery," or "We have to take it on faith." This wasn't good enough for me, as I had learned to reason FROM the scriptures. I began to view the sacraments, especially the Mass, as an outrage, and abstained from the Eucharist for that reason. I asked to be rebaptized.

The day of my second baptism I went into the water in tears and came out deaf. For twenty or so straight minutes I felt as if my soul was trying to leave my body- dizzy and light headed, I felt near fainting and could make no sense of anything happening around me. It was powerful. A few months later, I was praying in my room and asked God to baptize me in His Holy Spirit. The Spirit of God moved and before I knew it, I realized I had been walking around my room with my bible open praying in tongues for over an hour! I had never prayed that long before.

During this time I was growing in my faith and learning to live a better, holier life, but it took YEARS for God to purge me completely of the sins of the body--- I persevered in sexual immorality and in drug use for quite some time, years, even continuing to work in the adult industry as a "born again Christian," convincing myself that I was able to help save souls by remaining in that environment. Worse yet, I lied about it to my Christian friends, who were always so wholesome and interested in purity. I didn't want to get into it with them, so I just convinced myself it was a good thing to stay where I was. How deluded I was.

At the same time I made some HUGE changes which demonstrated my commitment to this new calling: I left my "fiancee," (who subsequently tried to kill himself and did kill my cat, eventually going completely nuts.) and I moved back in with my father, with whom I had a very strained relationship, out of sheer obedience. I changed the way I dressed, the friends I had, and the places I hung out. I began to focus heavily on evangelism. The grace of being baptized in the Spirit meant that I was open to correction by the faithful, and I found myself more and more disgusted by my sin and capable of repenting...whereas before I had been trying too hard, not truly SORRY for my sins.

Bizarre situations abounded in those early days, and I thank God He gave me much discernment. One morning, at 6 am, I received a phone call out of nowhere from my ex. "You can't be a Christian," he whispered in a sneering, sinister voice. "It's too hard. You'll never be able to do it. Just forget about the whole thing." Amazed, I hung up, thinking it sounded like a phone call from Satan himself. A short time after, another ex boyfriend randomly appeared at my door, one who had always held an inexplicable power over me. "So," he began, pushing past me in the door and standing over me imposingly. "I hear you're trying to be a Christian now. Well guess what? You can't worship Jesus Christ. He's a ------. I demand that you worship me instead. Worship my -------. " I couldn't believe it. What a weird conversation! Clearly, something spiritual was happening. Still another time, I was walking to work when one of Santa Barbara's many homeless vets, stinky, ill-clothed, and stinking of vomit and urine, was walking towards me. He was quiet, but as SOON as he stepped within a few feet of me, he began to shout and yell and curse. He was furiously gesticulating at me, only he wasn't cursing ME, He was shouting: "F-you, Jesus! Who do you think you are? You are pathetic. Come off your cross if you are God!" When he had passed me, he simply stopped yelling and went back to walking silently. So strange! Gradually, I came to understand that there were forces at work that I could not see, but which were the REAL forces at work in the world. What I saw and touched, tasted and smelled-- it was real, but it wasn't ALL.

One year I went home to France on vacation, and found that it was nearly impossible to find a Bible there. When I finally found one, it has the most atrocious. progressive and liberal commentary I had ever seen. I could hardly believe it. There was hardly a single non-Catholic Christian community anywhere. My eyes were opened to the devastating situation of godlessness that had spread like the plague across Europe. My heart BURNED to somehow make these people aware of the Kingdom of God, but I had no idea how to do it except by offering bibles inside backpacks filled with clothes and food to the poor in the streets via an acquaintance. I knew Missions was becoming a call close to my heart.

In 2004, I joined the US ARMY. I wont go into my reasons for joining, but lets just say that I was motivated by patriotism and disgust for liberals. I headed off to Basic Training equipped for adventure and hyped up to see what God would do. It was in Basic Training that he taught me how to pray-- REALLY pray. Before basic, when groups of us would get together to pray for people, I would always feel very nervous and uncomfortable. Having grown up Culturally Catholic with parents who didn't really pray with us, I didn't know how to pray spontaneously or to pray God's word over a situation. But once I was in the army, that all changed. The girls in my bay were desperate for encouragement, and I found myself teaching Bible studies to them by flashlight. Many nights I was so miserable I would sing praise and worship songs in the bathroom, and the girls would line up for prayer. They asked me to sit and pray with them as we shared guard duty, or in particularly difficult moments of training. All of us came from very different backgrounds, and getting used to the rhythm of Army life was a very violent time where fights broke out often and horribly immoral things would happen between soldiers. For me, though, it was like basic training for life in the Spirit.

It was at that time, also, that I had my first visible encounter with the demonic realm.

A girl in my bay would have very strange experiences at night that the rest of us could visibly see, including scratches and claw marks that would appear on her skin and then disappear right before our eyes. At first I was terrified, but I prayed for her in faith, and her troubles seemed to stop. This was the beginning of a long period in my life where deliverance ministry was, over and over again, something that God put in my path.

While I was in the army, I met and married my husband.
This part alone is complex enough to stand alone as a book--many people who watched it unravel said we should write one! The scenario is comical and interesting to write about and it profoundly affected everything I am and everything I do. Before I left for the Army, in a prayer meeting, someone had prophesied over me that I would meet my husband there. Naturally, this was virtually ALL that occupied my mind as I encountered different men and wondered-- is HE the one? I quickly realized the unhealthiness of this attitude and concentrated instead on the task at hand: making it through BCT. As I did, my future husband took note of the girl who was working hard to learn to soldier and was obviously impressed. Via a complicated series of events in which we were forced to make fast, difficult choices, we took a weekend and got married, having spoken only a handful of times and having known each other less than five weeks! I had perfect peace about the decision but it certainly caused a lot of turmoil: we were subsequently kicked out of the army and my family stopped all communication with me. Both events were devastating, and made even more difficult by the fact that I found myself living in a poor "city" in the South, with a man who, as it turned out, I didn't like very much.

Needless to say, God's ways work. Though we spent most of our time fighting and arguing, struggling to "make it," and picking our way through minefields, somehow, amazingly, we managed to not only stay married, but to learn to really love each other. We are still learning, but six years later I am proud and overjoyed to say that I would say "I do" all over again if given the choice!

This whole time, we were practicing our mutual Christian faith, albeit very differently. My understanding of how to practice my faith had grown from a deep transformative experience when I had been baptized in the Holy Spirit, and his came from an upbringing around traditionally minded Southern Christians, and in particular, baptists and pentacostals (which-as it turns out-aren't exactly "relaxed" about things like dancing or wearing pants. Not that he was stiff or rigid in his walk but that he was formal with God and about his responsibilities, whereas I was on BFF terms with Jesus.)

The question of birth control, for us as a married couple was a non-issue-- I had been on The Pill since the age of twelve (initially for painful periods which I was told it would help with) and having never really heard a Bible teaching on abstaining from Birth Control, we had no problem with it. Slowly, though, our conscience began to be pricked as we opened up God's Word and began to see the picture He paints in it of our purpose as husband and wife. Nevertheless, I had been taking The Pill regularly when I became pregnant with our first-- much to our surprise and dismay, I'll be honest. Even scarier was the fact that we found out very early on that we were expecting twins, as we heard two very distinct heartbeats even at my first appointment! Sadly, I miscarried between the third and fourth month, losing one of the twins.

The birth of my eldest was a terrifying experience, lasting more than 76 hours of hard labor, but once she was here-- I embarked whole-heartedly on the adventure of motherhood with all of the strength and willpower I could muster. I loved her so much-- and having her blew my mind. I had never planned on having a child- I wanted to be a mother much later in life and felt I hadn't really "accomplished anything" yet. But, it was obvious that this was the will of God and so I embraced it. Her birth bridged some of the gap between myself and my family, who wanted to be part of their first grandchild's life. Mothering was a very difficult experience for me-- my husband and I were still barely getting along and the stress of not sleeping, not having my body back, and not being in familiar surroundings was taking it's toll. I was learning to give of myself, and it was hard.

Over the years my faith in God grew stronger still. He saw me through the tough lessons of learning to trust HIM that when I obeyed and submitted to my husband, unworthy as I thought he was, God worked. He saw me through supporting my husband as he grew into his manhood-- he was only 19 when we married, and had never had an example of fatherhood or a decent family life on which he could rely for inspiration. God saw me through as I adapted to life in the south, as unglamorous and simple and ordinary-- and even sometimes repulsive-- as it was compared to my life in California or in Europe. He saw me through crippling poverty in which He provided day by day in miraculous ways. He saw me through caring for a difficult baby, which I knew nothing about.
He built into my memory a repertoire of events in which He provided for my soul's needs one way or another time after time after time, even through total and utter despair, of which I have known plenty, whether it be through the unexpected death of a loved one or the sting of abuse that scars the soul. Most importantly, he taught me the value of speaking His Word and restraining my tongue from any words which were not His.

Meanwhile, my husband and I prepared to follow God wherever He would lead, and we hoped it would lead to missions as a pastoring family. We took classes to that end.
At one point, we even moved to California to pursue the vision. Over time, we grew disillusioned with the way Christianity had become, in particular with the way people "did Church." We were tired of pastors who lied or used selfish ambition or pride to get ahead, we were tired of our money being spent poorly. We were tired of Churches which taught "most" of the Bible Truth as we had come to understand it, but not ALL. We wanted to be in Church which taught the FULLNESS of the Truth, not just "most" of the Truth. My hunger for God had grown only stronger over the years, and I had an Elijah-like longing for fellowship in the Holy Spirit that was complete and full, for God to be worshipped by the people in Spirit and Truth.

We also became extensively involved in deliverance ministry. Having been delivered of demonic influence myself, it became clear that God was using our personal experiences to minister to others who were afraid or confused. We taught small groups and led bible studies and prayer groups. These were busy, happy days. BUT that longing for fullness of Truth persisted and we began to think we would never find it all in one place.

Quite unexpectedly, we eventually found what we were seeking in the one place we never thought we could go: The Catholic Church. I had long ago turned my back on the sacraments after a well-intentioned but ever so misguided sermon by a minister named Jacob Prasch in which he challenged listeners to choose between "Truth" and Catholicism. He made a convincing spiritual argument based on emphatic contradictions he declared between Scripture and what the Church teaches (and of course, I believed him, having no actual understanding of what the Church teaches and thus being shocked an awed alongside all the other ignoramuses who took him at his word instead of investigating for ourselves whether these things were so.)

In my great pride, I considered myself a knowledgeable ex-Catholic of course. After all, I had gone to CCD, had my first communion, been confirmed...I "knew" what the faith was about, I reasoned.
Never once, in all that time, had I met someone who prophetically inspired in me the same zeal for God and His Word and Truth and goodness as I did among protestants. Never, in all that time, did I meet people who made it their every day business to be about their Father's business who were not protestants. Sure, I met monks and nuns who had given their lives to Jesus... but when they had led me in prayer or Bible study, said mass, or blessed me, they had read the words monotonously, never taking a particular interest to showing me God's love and care for my personal situation. They seemed to be full of questions, with not many answers. And so I reasoned that what they said was true-- that Catholicism was all "dead traditions of man," while the Holy Spirit moved elsewhere. I wanted to follow the wind of the Spirit.

Which is why I was utterly amazed when, through a series of unusual events, I began to feel that God was calling me back to the Roman Church.
I was a part of a prayer group that prayed against Marian apparitions, which we firmly believed were demonic manifestations. One day, we heard about Medjugorje, and immediately began to pray. As always, before I prayed, I did research. What was the apparition asking of people? Scripture tells us to test the spirits, and I used the scriptures to test the messages. There were pages and pages of messages-- the apparition had been ongoing for over twenty-five years. To my amazement, all of the messages were about turning from sin, confessing it, and turning to Jesus. Nothing unbiblical about that! Sure, the message had a "Catholic" bent, but I reasoned that the apparition was just speaking to people in a language they understood-- in Catholic terms, since the people were Catholic. Why "couldn't" God use Mary, after all? He had used Moses, and Elijah, right? Instead of doing spiritual warfare against the Marian apparitions at Mejdugorje, I found that I began to believe that Mary really was appearing to help the people turn to Jesus. And this sparked the beginnings of a Marian devotion in me. My husband also, over time, became convinced that Mary really was appearing, and not a demonic spirit. And this alienated us further from our evangelical Church, which unquestioningly considered ALL Marian apparitions as demonic manifestations.

Meanwhile, Mary began to appear alongside the Church in little signs to us along the way. One day at the dinner table, my oldest, who had never really heard of Mary, went into a type of rapture at the dinner table. Out of no where, she tried and tried to reach the cieling over the center of our table, reaching with all her tiny might.
She told us she saw a beautiful lady, holding a baby, and that she wanted to hug the baby and love him.
I believed, but my husband was skeptical. "She saw it in a book or something," he said. The next night, she repeated the same thing, only this time my protestant Father in law was there. He turned to me and exclaimed: "She sees Mary, the mother of Jesus!"

A few days later, while re-arranging a bookshelf, a book fell out and onto my head. It was my brother's Roman Catholic Missal, which he had used throughout his first deployment to Afghanistan and throughout his subsequent near-death experience. I had hidden it away because of the references to Mary, but couldn't throw it away as it had spiritually sustained my brother through such a difficult time.

Then, a few days after that, I took my daughter for a walk through the park after a heavy rain. Her favorite sandbox was flooded, so we went to the one on the other side of the park. There, in the mud, she bent down and pulled out a book. It was an old antique copy of Fr. Lasance's "the Catholic Girls' guide," with holy cards inside... a book which contained marvelous counsels to young Catholic maidens on virtue and purity, alongside prayers and devotions. Incredible, and the last thing I expected to find in a sandbox in a park in the South. I felt certain that God was trying to tell me something. Even more so my husband began to develop a devotion to EACH of the saints pictured in the Holy Cards tucked away in the books' pages. St John Crysostohm, St Peter, St Maria Goretti, the blessed Mother, Saint Francis. One by one he began to share with me his interest in their lives, and he had never even seen the little book!

I began to desire to pray the rosary. My husband raised an eyebrow when I brought one home, but didn't say too much. I did, and this desire blossomed and grew into a longing for the rhythmic, reverent structure of my Catholic days gone past. I was given an edition of the NRSV that had the full Book of Common Prayer in it. Almost Catholic, but still protestant enough to keep me comfortable-- no Mary talk and not too much "extra stuff." Nonetheless, I began to order my life according to the rhythm of liturgical prayer.
At this point, my husband sat me down and had a serious talk with me.
"I want to be Catholic!" I lamented.
"You can go to a Catholic Church. You can fellowship with Catholic people," he tried to reason with me. "But why do you have to be CALLED a Catholic? WHY isn't being called a Christian good enough for you." On the eceumenical path, he had understood the Church as "a" church- a community of believers. This was a big step, but he certainly didn't see it as "The" Church.
Intellectually, I had to agree with him, though I felt certain that the Catholic Church did church "better" than most other Churches I knew.

And then, one day, it happened. I was reading my bible, as I did every day, and I came across the passage in John 6, the bread of life discourse. And it was as if my eyes were opened and I was reading it again for the first time. I deeply realized the "REALITY" of the Eucharist, and all I could think about was that I needed True Food for my soul. Where could I find that True Food but the local Catholic Church?? I wanted to run there.

I called a local parish and told them that I needed to speak to a priest. I told the priest I wanted to go to confession. That priest happened to be a former Evangelical Baptist protestant, freshly ordained. Through him, my husband also came to believe in the One, Holy, Catholic and apostolic Church. As his last few arguments melted slowly away into the folds of Scriptural responses this priest had for our tough questions, we both came to realize that we believed in the Roman Catholic Church and all that it taught.

Over that first lent, I fasted from reading anything but the Bible and the Catechism of the Church, just to see if I would catch that "last" thing that would have prevented me from becoming Catholic- a scent of unbiblicalism, a trace of falsehood. It was nowhere. Reading the Catechism was like reading a theological document that delineated exactly what I had come to believe the Bible taught...with the addition of brilliant notions I hadn't yet considered that were the natural result of the train of thought I had adopted.

Our homecoming was amazing: all of the strands of "Truth" I had grasped at throughout the realm of protestant nondenominationalism were solidly bound together in one sturdy rope of full, perfect Truth, which reached back 2000 + years to the time of Christ and which I could grasp firmly without looking back, confident it would lead only to the Kingdom of God. Every element was there: Holy Spirit power? Check. Authority to teach? Check. Eucharistic? Check. Proper placement of Jewish Traditions? Check. Reverence? Check. Sabbath keeping? Check. Family integrated-Church movement? Check. Church Fathers? Check. Biblical? Check. Operating in an orderly manner with the gifts of the Holy Spirit? Check. Teaching salvation? Check. Proper understanding of the birth control fiasco? Check. Pro-life? Check. Liturgical? Check. Prayerful? Check. Prophetic? Check. Sacramental? Check. Under sound authority? Check. Proper eschatological understanding? Check. Headcovering? Check. Modest? Check. Proper understanding of the importance of marriage? Check. Proper understanding of the relevance of Christian Art and Music? Check. NOT anti-intellectual? Check. NOT worldy? NOT concerned with growth, finances and numbers? Check. Room for individual vocations and movement of the Holy Spirit? Check. Unification in the faith? Check. I could have died of joy.

We promptly determined that we needed to have our children baptized (my mother, who had earnestly tried to have my kids secretly baptized, was obviously thrilled.) and to make our marriage sacramentally valid- a process called "Convalidation." This led to my husband being confirmed in the Church. All over the course of one grace-filled year. Buckets, and Buckets, and Buckets of grace, as our priest at that time likes to remind us.

During that time, we were either abandoned, outright shunned, or given a freezing cold shoulder by well-meaning protestant friends who were completely bewildered as to how two such Spirit-filled, Bible-loving, Jesus-freak people could go and not only join a Church which was clearly "unbiblical" but believe in it's Truth.
Most of our conversations at that time started with "Well, yes, Catholics can be saved and of course you have to go where God calls you, yes and amen. Oh wait, WHAT? You believe the Catholic Church is THE Church?? You're OK with this whole Mary thing??? Sister, I will pray for you to come back to the TRUTH. You are caught up in idolatry. What? You won't repent? I bind the evil spirit of religion in you in the name of Jesus!" Etc etc etc.

At playdates, our old, familiar friends would stare uncomfortably at our newly erected Family altar complete with a statue of the blessed mother. They would stare at the new Crucifixes in our home and say "those always made me sad. Don't people know Jesus isn't ON the Cross anymore? He is risen!" Little by little through awkward moments like these we became totally alienated from our wonderful family of friends in Christ. BUT we knew that this, like all things, would pass. As painful as it was, God used the opportunity to build us as a family and gave us a new Church family and a true season of bonds of love and unity with the Brethren. It was marvelous. At the same time, it was humiliating and painful- we owed apologies to many people who we had condemned with great zeal and gusto. We owed apologies to the Blessed Mother and to the Holy Trinity. We were humbled before our family, who we had self-righteously judged and found guilty.

It was during this time that I sought to "get involved" in the Church in ways I had served before. Never wanting to be only a taker, I tried to find simple ways to serve that fit with my spiritual gifts. I also looked at different third orders. Dominicans were teachers.. and though I was technically also a bible Teacher, I didn't feel that their spirituality fit with mine. Salesians left me indifferent. Opus Dei I found too rigid and a little strange. Works of charity weren't my "thing," so Franciscans were out of the question. My entire Christian service and all of my spiritual gifts centered around warfare prayer, intercession, and a deepening understanding of God's Word alive in my heart. I was strongly drawn to the spirituality of my aunt's order- The Little Sisters of Jesus. But since I couldn't be a nun, I didn't know how to live their type of love. It was in reading the blog of another brother who loved Blessed Charles de Foulcauld that I discovered Carmel- and when I realized that Carmel held the promise of a life lived inflamed by the Holy Spirit for me. It was reading a definition of Carmelite Spirituality by Edith Stein which solidified it for me, and shortly thereafter I sent a letter to the Raleigh OCDS community, asking for the requirements to be admitted. I already lived a life of prayer, zeal, and hunger for spiritual things. I desired, above all, perfect Union with God. I had a missionary spirit, but the only mission given me had always been: to pray.

The first meeting left me puzzled-- I found there a group of men and women, mostly much, much older, and what basically amounted to a book study group. Sure, I liked the books they were studying and I found the intellectual material discussed fascinating, but did I really want to make such a serious commitment to a group of older people who liked to read together? But at the end of the meeting we shared a half hour of mental prayer, and together prayed the liturgy of the hours in the church, and my heart melted. I had the strongest feeling that I was "home."
Over time, I came to understand that what happened at the monthly meeting was mostly for the purpose of fellowship and support and training, but that the walk of each Carmelite was a very solitary one, one in which God moved each soul as He pleased and in ways that, though we understood, we could never SHARE. Carmel is basic training for the soul who longs for God. It is the Spirit who moves us.... we need only cooperate.

My first steps into St Teresa's work and St John of the Cross' work left me intregued, but resistant- Teresa's writing style was so poor that I had a hard time taking her seriously and John's ideas seemed extreme and impractical. But then I discovered Mariam, the Little Arab, and through her I learned to love a life of sacrifice and detachment. While going through yet another tough time related to our search for sustaining work and our confusion and anxiety over our ever growing family, I began to see the pools of Divine wisdom in Mariam's echoes of her Holy Father and Mother: "I desire to suffer much, and not to die, I should add: this is not my will, it is my inclination. It is sweet to think of Jesus; but it is sweeter to do His will. " she said. "Always remember to love your neighbor; always prefer the one who tries your patience, who test your virtue, because with her you can always merit: suffering is Love; the Law is Love."
Suffering well was wisdom? I had found the sure path to the Cross!

Over time, Wayne and I again began to crave that "perfect" worship we were seeking. No longer satisfied just to be called Catholic, we wanted to see "Catholic" things in our everyday experience. We found so much progressive drivel in the Parishes around us it became hard to see if we had made the right choice-- the "True Faith" was indeed there before us, in the Eucharist, in God's people, in the Holy Father, in official Church statements... but where was it in the Parish? Watered down, meaningless mush was replacing the tradition we had "come home" to find. We practically had to teach Wayne's RCIA class for them. Every tradition was reduced to a cheesy, liberal sensory experience, and all the awe and reverence for the Eucharist had vanished.

Our priest was transferred and with him went the last shred of hope we had that our Parish would take a radical turn towards the practice of Earnest, no holds-barred Traditional Catholicism. Everywhere we looked, Parishes were trying to conform to some weird mold instead of remaining pure and undefiled. Many of them were attempting to draw in protestants or to be LIKE protestants in their appearance, in their "style" of worship. Instead of the gregorian chant and the latin we had expected, we were met with refrains of kumbaya and dorky guitar. Instead of the bells and insense, we found female lectors dressed as men and altered scripture readings to accomodate feminism. Instead of glorious buildings created to worship God, we found weird new age art with vaguely Christian themes and creepy decorations. Everything we had been told in the Catechism was true, but it seemed as if no one was interested in shouting that truth from the rooftops. Rather, priests and people acted as if that Truth were something to be embarrassed or quiet about, keeping it under wraps under the guise of "Charity" towards those who were without. We even began to meet priests who struggled with disbelief in what we considered the fundamentals of the faith. Something was very wrong.

We prayed. We searched for answers. We wondered why the Holy Father didn't act. We listened to the arguments of ultra traditionalists and schismatics and found them flawed-- nearly perfect, but always with the twist of a slightly protestant spirit. We believed that what we were seeing happen was a Satanic plan in action. We saw the satanic fruit in our parishes. But at the same time, we knew that these things "have to come to pass." We knew that the Bible, and Mary, had warned us many times of these very occurances, and told us how desperate these early End Times would become. We learned also that time for God is very different from time for us. While we suffered greatly at the 'changes' we were impatient with the responses, not recognizing that it can take hundreds of years to right a wrong.

In a very difficult moment, we simultaneously found ourselves alienated from the Catholic support system which we had built around us, and fully immersed in our love of the Church and faith in it.
Our ceaseless questioning and demonstrations of inconsistensies bothered our Catholic friends and family ecause they had grown up completely obedient to the Church, not discerning or thinking for themselves but rather accepting the teachings of the Magesterium at face value, because they were the magesterium. My husband especially has a prophetic gift and we were practically begging whoever would listen to repent and turn to God.
Over and over we were told that these men, that made up the Magesterium, could not err... they were "far more learned" than any of us and thus knew better than any of us how things should be done. Wayne and I could not accept this-- scripture is clear that it is the Holy Spirit who reveals truth to even the most unlearned of men, and that "good" theology is accessible to the lowest of the low.

This opinion wasn't shared by those of our friends and family who preferred either NOT to think about it, or who simply weren't preoccupied with coming to perfect Truth- who were satisfied in their daily walks. They complained about "the way things were" but not enough to make a ruckus in the Parish or to actually move and shake things up to the point of making a lasting change.

Thus they were intellectually upset by us, and we had to cease bringing these philosophical questions to them, as it was causing angst and annoyance. It wasn't that we felt the Church wouldn't stand up to our questioning. We knew she could.

Rather, we were practically BEGGING those we expected to have answers to stand up and announce them, lest others like us turn away from the Truth because of what they encountered in the flesh. We knew we would be Catholic all of our days, because it was true and right. But we couldn't find a way to explain what we were seeing around us that paraded as Catholicism. We knew our protestant brothers and sisters would never make it home until what they FOUND in the local Parishes was as consistent and untainted by the world as what they found in the pages of the catechism.

Our biggest marital struggle at this point been in the realm of family unplanning. Morally, we understand and agree with the Theology of the Body, and the teachings of the Church. Logistically, we can not afford even the children we already have. Practically, we have done all we can to avoid having children....not only abstaining during fertile periods but, out of sheer terror that we "might" get pregnant again anyways, abstaining virtually all the time. The few times we HAVE enjoyed the marital embrace, regardless of situation, cycle, etc, we have gotten pregnant. Which has caused us extensive grief and incredible difficulties. At the same time, we both absolutely love our children, children in general, and readily acknowledge that it is through the experience of having and raising children that our Faith has become "authentic" and tangible. We mourn the passing days in which our babies turn to "grown ups" and increasingly desire to have more babies. We lament the fact that we are "open to life" but prevented from creating life with purpose and wonder why God would give two people a love of large families but no ability to support even a small family. It is a mystery, but God knows what He is doing. Meanwhile, we continue to wrestle with each passing opportunity, knowing that it is true that children will simultaneously be our blessings and our cross. With that, we are satisfied--
It gives us a deeper understanding of the Glory of THE Cross.

Another struggle has been to understand our role as Christians in the realm of spiritual warfare. We had always understood our roles to be as pivotal and necessary in "proclaiming liberty to the captives" in Christ. I grew up around hauntings and bizarre paranormal occurances, and I later was delivered of several demons on two separate occasions through prayers of the faithful. As I grew in my Christianity, I shared what I knew with others around me and found that there was a whole hurting part of the world which needed Christ proclaimed to them-- people who were marginalized and alienated because of the very nature of what they were dealing with: Non Christians cast them aside because what they experience is so bizarre, and irrational. Often they are called liars or simply "crazy." Christians alienate them because they are afraid or because they assume that this person is only demonized because of some sin they will not let go of, and thus they are judged, tormented and eventually driven to the edges of sanity, to suicide, to shells of a normal life. I enjoy ministering to people like this because I understand them... many of them, like me, had no idea that there was a spiritual reality far greater than anything they could see or understand around them at work.
Most of them didn't ask for these terrifying experiences, they simply came. And their foundations were shaken.
I knew that God was calling me to help these people.

At first, I created an official sounding ministry name and set up a website. People came from all directions, and via phone, email or in person I prayed with people and walked them through steps of deliverance. When we returned to the Church, I submitted my ministry to the priests I knew and offered to be of assistance to them. This went on for some time.
As I grew increasingly busy with running a family, I found that to my dismay even though I was the "expert" in deliverance ministry and my husband- more often than not- learned from me, he was the one who was available to assist people in person and I was constrained to the house where "all I could do" was pray. Many a night I lamented and looked with great sadness at my children, who were "holding me back" from being there when he was engaged in battle at some poor tormented soul's home.

God, in fact, knew my weaknesses and helped me to overcome my own pride and desire to be recognized as a minister of the gospel, reminding me of what He wanted me to hold onto: the important work of Prayer and the necessity of humility. In deliverance work, we must depend on God alone and not on our strength... it is very dangerous. God didn't want me to think I knew what I was doing. He wanted me to turn to Him constantly for every step of the prayer journey.

Once I understood that my calling was to remain hidden and pray, all the grandiose ideas I had had about being a successful, famous couple with our own ministry went out the window. There would be no booksales, no speaking tours. No. We would be a family who prayed, and that was enough.

As pathetic as this sounds, the difficulty in this has been tremendous for me. In the protestant environment, fame is a sure demonstration of success. I do believe that God has given me particular spiritual gifts, namely the gift of discernment and the gift of exorcism, that cause me to be hyper-aware of whatever spiritual reality is around us. However, as a faithful Catholic, I must obey the magesterium, who at this time when Satan has been given practically free reign has also asked that priests AND laypersons refrain from directly addressing Satan and his demons, and thus have essentially tied our hands behind our back. However, when we are weak, then He is strong, and God has shown His might and his mercy for these people who suffer demonic torment. I continue to pray for them and for priest exorcists daily, and offer up small sacrifices for them throughout the day. Amazingly, this has proven to be far more effective and make much more of a difference than when I had a "team" and a platform and a business card. God knows what he's doing.

God has also been teaching us profound lessons about obedience...a subject rarely taught in protestant circles and thus not one we were familiar with. Through obedience, we discovered, it was easy to know what was the will of God in the moment. For instead of taking God's will to be whatever we desired, it became easy to see how He planned to sanctify us through obedience even unto suffering, even when it wasn't what our flesh desired, even unto death. Through this understanding of obedience and armed with a healthy Carmelite understanding of detachment, we were then plunged back into the darkness in which faith was our only light. My husband in his own darkness is trying to find his way into some type of career or way to provide for the family God keeps enlarging for him. Me? I had aspired to be a good wife, and a good mother, and a good Carmelite... a woman of prayer. I thought I had finally come to "the near-end" of this journey, that things would quiet down and I could get down to the business of being done with searching my soul.

However, among these lessons about obedience was the hardest one of all: Through a series of interactions with my confessor and with my husband, I came to see that I had been using Carmel as that last great stronghold and fortress for my pride, self-importance and as a shelter from the suffering and difficulty of my primary vocation as wife and mother. For it is no easy task to be a wife and homeschooling mother when your personality seeks nothing but quiet, silence, and personal time with God.

The two things my confessor has asked of me, and which I have taken the beginning steps to obey, are (1) To remove even the THOUGHT of Carmel from my head and heart. Though I very likely do have a vocation to Carmel, I am to act and think as though I had none. In this way,he hopes, my soul will be saved and I will grow in love as I submit to the Cross which God has sent me.... a cross which is as sweet as it is painful, which is to put my family before myself.

(2) I am to take the motto which many a saint have taken before me: Look like everyone else on the outside.... but be like no one else on the inside.
The first was like dying a small death. At the same time as I was called to leave Carmel my son was given a grim diagnosis which would make him quite a challenge to raise, and I discovered that I was pregnant, the fear and angst over which probably caused the miscarriage I subsequently suffered.

The second was another death for me...I also suffered great humiliation in that as vocal as I had been in public about veiling and being "different" for Christ, I was now being asked to, instead, "be all things for all people."

In other words, I was going to be a normal mother, hidden away with no distinctive features that made me interesting or particularly special (other than my ordinary traits that make me "me.") It was going to be tough, and I wasn't going to have any crutches-- God alone was going to be my strength because no one else could know what it was like to go through and I was to embrace this because through this and this alone would I find HIM.

And so, dear friends, as painful as it is to write this...here it is. And strangely, it fills me with perfect peace and even joy because I know it is for the good of my soul. I stand before you, now--naked, nameless, lost and identity-less, plain, ordinary and totally amazed. Many, many years ago, my then-pastor, a dear soul named Britt Merrick, told me that if I thought I was getting into a cruise ship by responding to grace with an act of my will, I was crazy.
"No way, sister," he laughed. "Christianity is no cruise ship. It's a rowboat!"

I thank God for this precious rowboat, for these perfect oars, and for the wind of His Holy Spirit by which He will lift me up and guide me along long after the oars are lost and the boat is smashed against a rock.
May John of the Cross, who has led me this far, lead me straight into the arms of my Lord Jesus.

Little scriptural prayer I put together this morning for God's provision.

In nomine + Patris, et + Filii, et + Spiritus Sancti. Amen

Unless You build our house, Lord, we labor in vain. You have told us that we are blessed when we fear You and walk in your ways. (Ps 127-128) We aspire to live quietly, to mind our own affairs , and to work with our hands as You charged us, so that we may command the respect of outsiders and be dependent on nobody. (1 Thess 4:10) We believe that we will see Your goodness in the land of the living. (Ps 27:13) You have said that when we eat the labor of our hands, we shall be happy and it shall be well with us, that our children will be like peaceful olive shoots around our table, that thus shall we be blessed if we fear You, Lord God. (Ps 128:2-4) We wait for you, God, and in Your Word we hope. (Ps 130:5) For your righteousness' sake bring our souls out of trouble. (Ps 143:11)
Send your Holy Spirit to convict us of sin and renew us, for You bestow favor and honor, and no good thing do you withhold from those whose walk is blameless. (Ps 84:11) Remember Your promise that Your people will live in peaceful dwelling places, in secure homes, in undisturbed places of rest. (Is 32:18)
We believe that You will repay us for the years the locusts have eaten... that we will have plenty to eat, until we are full, and so we will praise the name of the Lord our God, who has worked wonders for us, for You have promised that never again will be ashamed. (Joel 2:24-26) Not that we are competent in ourselves to claim anything for ourselves, but our competence comes from You, O God. (2 Cor 3:5) For You have said: Give and will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into our laps, for with the measure we use it will be measured to us. (Luke 6:38) When we have eaten and are satisfied, we will praise You, Lord, for the good land you will have given us. We will be careful not to forget you, not failing to observe your commands, for it is You who gives us the ability to produce wealth, and so confirm Your covenant, which You swore to our forefathers. (Deut 8:10-11,18)

Gloria + Patri, et + Filio, et + Spiritui Sancto. Sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et semper, et in saecula saeculorum. Amen.

Mothers, are you tired?

"A mother does not simply give her time and energy to her vocation; she gives her body, her very self. She gives until there is no more to give. Nothing is spared. In this she bears a remarkable resemblence to Christ. He gave us His body when He died on the cross. Therefore do not deplore your growing discomfort, your disappearing figure, your changing life; you are in good company. With Christ you are giving up your very body for love." Agnes M. Penny, "Your Labor of Love"

The Run

Been asking God to speak to me... It's been a dry season. Went for a run tonight. I say that casually but it's a big deal for me- because I hate running, because it's hard and scary for me, because it's embarrassing to be that overweight mom without the good shoes and supportive running bra that teenagers point at.

Nevertheless I went for my second run, at sunset after a 100 degree day.

As I ran, I started praying for the houses and the families I saw, praising God for the safety and family- friendliness of our neighborhood. But as each house passed by me, I began to feel a tinge of jealousy: here, a housewife and her kids were pulling weeds in a beautiful garden. There a family was giggling in their pool. A few homes down I saw a grandpa sitting in a rocker watching two babies play in the yard with a dog. It was picture perfect.

Before long I realized that for almost ten minutes I had stopped praying for others and was just repeating, over and over, "Lord, give us this life. THIS is all we've ever asked of you. Nothing extravagant. Just a simple life with lots of love- enough money to make the kids happy. Give us this life. Why won't you do this for us? Why do you do it for everyone we know, but not us? Give us this life!"

Suddenly, amidst the deafening roar of the blood rushing through me, the pound of my heart and my feet on the pavement, He spoke. As clear as day-- He spoke.

"I HAVE."

I found myself conflicted- simultaneously shamed and indignant. "Sure, I live in a nice house in this neighborhood- but my carpet is old, my kitchen is ugly and Its not even mine.. Our house, our car.... None of it is OURS."

He spoke again: "No. It is mine."

I gasped, again, conflicted. Shamefully brazen, I said to Him: "What about my children, Lord?? What about their inheritance?"

"I will be their inheritance."

I stopped running and keeled over, feeling both defeated and more at peace than I had been for months.

Suddenly, I looked up. I was standing at the top of a huge hill: before me stood a vast, glorious sky filled with incredible clouds that seemed surreal. Every color of the rainbow swirled around a gigantic red sun that seemed to light the trees below on fire. This whole scene was painted across the top of the lush pinewood forest that marked the valley-- and as I stood over it, jaw dropped at the sheer glory I was witnessing, a thought seemed to come from my Spirit: "This is heaven."

At that moment I realized there were others present. I looked around and found that there were literally dozens and dozens of people out walking too. Children happily raced each other or rode by on bikes. Couples walked behind them holding hands. An elderly woman held hands with her granddaughter and smiled. Everyone was smiling or laughing and the permeating sense of "good" that resulted took my breath away. I looked out again at the scene before me and choked up.

"I am here." He said. "My kingdom is not of this world, but it is what you seek."

He is here.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone, forgive any editing failures :)

The vision of the dry bones

This is my life:

Ezekiel
Chapter 37
1
1 The hand of the LORD came upon me, and he led me out in the spirit of the LORD and set me in the center of the plain, which was now filled with bones.
2
He made me walk among them in every direction so that I saw how many they were on the surface of the plain. How dry they were!
3
He asked me: Son of man, can these bones come to life? "Lord GOD," I answered, "you alone know that."
4
Then he said to me: Prophesy over these bones, and say to them: Dry bones, hear the word of the LORD!
5
Thus says the Lord GOD to these bones: See! I will bring spirit into you, that you may come to life.
6
I will put sinews upon you, make flesh grow over you, cover you with skin, and put spirit in you so that you may come to life and know that I am the LORD.
7
I prophesied as I had been told, and even as I was prophesying I heard a noise; it was a rattling as the bones came together, bone joining bone.
8
I saw the sinews and the flesh come upon them, and the skin cover them, but there was no spirit in them.
9
Then he said to me: Prophesy to the spirit, prophesy, son of man, and say to the spirit: Thus says the Lord GOD: From the four winds come, O spirit, and breathe into these slain that they may come to life.
10
I prophesied as he told me, and the spirit came into them; they came alive and stood upright, a vast army.
11
Then he said to me: Son of man, these bones are the whole house of Israel. They have been saying, "Our bones are dried up, our hope is lost, and we are cut off."
12
Therefore, prophesy and say to them: Thus says the Lord GOD: O my people, I will open your graves and have you rise from them, and bring you back to the land of Israel.
13
Then you shall know that I am the LORD, when I open your graves and have you rise from them, O my people!
14
I will put my spirit in you that you may live, and I will settle you upon your land; thus you shall know that I am the LORD. I have promised, and I will do it, says the LORD.

(NAB)

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone, forgive any editing failures :)