reinventing the deep

To blog or not to blog, that is the question.

Haha. I'm forever writing blogs in my head. I dont keep much of a journal anymore, not only because I dont have the time but also because I think most of the important things get covered in here. I don't want to blog some things because they are personal. I want to blog others because I think that if I were reading someone 's blog and heard about one of these things happening to them, I would find myself learning and growing.
I blog more in times of distress, out of a cathartic need to share my suffering. I blog less when I am going through something intenseley private-- something that might hurt me or my family if others were to read about it and misunderstand our intentions, our emotions, our experiences.
This is one of those times.

A friend of mine who reads this blog told me she felt that I needed God's peace. Rest assured, God's peace has descended upon me. What I didn't expect was the level of commitment He would require of me. We say things like "God wants all of me," and "All for You, Lord," and we don't realize the length and breadth of the commitment we are making, we don't realize that to love and follow Jesus means to literally give up every single one of our "rights" to enjoy the "privilege" of serving Him in holiness.

Rights vs Privilege has been on my mind lately.
With regards to communion, for example. I've been struggling with a desire to receive communion on my knees. To a lot of people, this may seem like a no brainer. But to me, it's a big deal, and here's why. I've been covering my head during prayer for nearly fifteen years now. As a protestant, people think it's a little strange. I've been asked by a pastor, when my husband was a bit more "high profile" as a servant of the church, not to cover my head or at least not to be so ovbious about it. I cover my head with a veil, not a hat, and so to the world, it may seem a bit wierd. Nevertheless, I believe the Bible, and so I do it.
Returning to the RCC, one of my greatest joys was that I would be able to unabashedly cover my head during worship, and that people would GET IT. Unfortunately, that doesn't seem to be the case. Other than the two or three traditionalists in the congregation, who are absolutely overjoyed that a young woman would choose to cover, I have had more than just wierd looks and comments. Mostly from progressive catholics who think that the archaic custom of veiling should go the way of the dinosaur alongside kneeling after the agnus dei. And while I have no problem with them choosing NOT to do it, I do strongly reserve my right TO do it, particularly in light of St Paul's obvious exhortation in scripture. So, let's just say that being one of three people in a large church who goes up to receive communion veiled, people like to stare.
If I were to receive communion on my knees, I can only imagine what people might be thinking--- either that I'm strange, or (God forbid) that I'm trying to draw attention to myself. Neither of which are a good testimony to my sisters and brothers in Christ. And so day after day, I go up and receive standing up. Until a few weeks ago, when I noticed that my dear friend, who does NOT veil, DOES receive on her knees.
I asked my priest about it, and he looked at me with all seriousness in his eyes:
"If people REALLY BELIEVED, they would be crawling up to the altar on their knees. I think it's great. Absolutely."
So from now on, I'm going to give my Lord the respect He deserves by receiving on my knees.
Receiving a communion with God that is a PRIVILEGE and not a right, as many people would have you believe.
That's why it bothers those of us who DO believe so much to see people go up slumping, chewing gum, even rolling their eyes sometimes because their parents pushed them down the aisle.
Do you believe?

I'm in the process of discerning a vocation. Which sounds wierd, to a Catholic, because I'm married. It sounds wierd to a protestant because you don't know what a vocation is. So let me explain a little bit.
Religious Orders consist of priest and brothers, nuns (cloistered) and sisters, and lay persons who rally around the spirituality of a particular saint in service of the One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic church. First Order are consecrated single men, Second are consecrated single women, and Third are consecrated single or married men or women.
The purpose of which is to live out your faith with like-minded individuals in a community setting dedicated to serving God and the church.
That's the one thing I really love about Catholicism. My priest often makes a cross with his arms when I ask him a question about whether I should or should not do something. It's to remind me that my responsibility to the church involves a horizontal aspect, serving people, as well as a vertical aspect, serving God. I can not do one without the other. In his (as well as my) opinion, much of what Pope Benedict is trying to resolve in his papacy has to do with people forgetting the vertical aspect and focusing solely on the horizontal, resulting in generations of glorified social workers, humanitarians, and the like defining the church, instead of Jesus Christ, the chief foundation and cornerstone.
From what we understand, married persons may belong to third orders, but within that there are some orders where married persons may belong to the community as well, living within the community and participating in the apostolate. Wayne is very interested, for example, in LIVING with other franciscan men.
Having children and being married, this makes it difficult for him ,although not impossible. I can definitely understand his desire to do this.
Our marriage is difficult and he has never really wanted to do anything with his life other than serve God and fellow man. His ending up a pastor, as was prophesied over him , would have meant that the kids and I would have had to deal with many of the same issues-- his being gone a lot, his ministry being the focal point of his life, his loving us taking a front seat but our requirement to sacrifice a lot for the good of all.
I am accustomed to caring for the kids alone, to meals alone, to days and nights alone. Sometimes he is gone because he is serving other people--- lately it's been hospital visits to the sick and dying, home visits and spending the night with homeless people. More often than not, he is gone to the steps of a church we like, praying in the Marian garden, sometimes for entire days at a time. He did this even when he was employed, spending entire days fasting barefoot and praying on the beach. He has a contemplative heart. That's where he got the name for our son.

I'm not dependant on his presence to feel his love for me or the kids, nor am I dependant on his help to survive-- it's safe to say that in many ways, up until now our marriage has been built on a mutual love but not a mutual submission.... however, that isn't to say we would ever call it quits.
We operate on a different level than most married persons we know.... mostly because Wayne strives to please God and I strive to please God through pleasing him. He is constantly challenging me to rely less on my emotions, to need less, to focus more of my heart and soul on service. And it is no picnic in the park.

The paradox of our relationship is that while what Wayne does is often construed as being selfish, it does serve the ultimate purpose of refining me and helping me to be the best person I can be. That being said, there is nothing more infuriating than having a husband who KNOWS you want and need certain things but simply will not give them to you on grounds that you are being strengthened by Christ by him NOT giving them to you even though he is capable of doing them.

He is very wise, but he still has a very, very long way to go in understanding the nature of the marital relationship. (and before you start casting judgement on him, remember that you don't know his story--- he has a heritage of divorce and terrible relations to overcome)

On the other hand, I find it an incredibly difficult thing because I DO struggle to overcome feelings of uselessness, hopelessness, anxiety over having enough to eat or wear, or a roof over our heads. I struggle with lovelessness, because I do not FEEL his love all the time. I feel his frustration when I stand in the way of him and the beggar behind me.... arms outstretched also. I struggle with fear that my kids will grow up either with a somewhat distant father or with a father who loves them so much but who they can't understand and therefore hurts them-- after all, I love him so much and yet I am frequently hurt by his decisions to put other things before me and the children.

I don't know if these things change when the sacramental nature of our marriage changes next Saturday. I do know that this week, while we should be preparing for marriage and stressing communication and talking about all of these things, he has taken a vow of silence and is not speaking to any of us. Which has been almost a relief, because it has caused us to silently observe each other and test our motivations.... it's all just so intense. Does that mean that this isn't preparing us for marriage? Not necessarily.

My mother thinks we should have the marriage annulled and he should go off and be a monk. She told me this on the phone when I told her that we were going to be going through a convalidation. She told me this before he ever expressed such a desire, even to me.

On my end, I am discerning a call to something greater than just life for myself. I'm discerning that my desire to spend most of the day in prayer, meditation, and WORK for the Lord, to place God first and foremost in everything I do, isn't something that everyone around me has. That its' a special gift, and that other people who have gone before, particularly other women, have shared in that call and will continue to strengthen me as I learn how to respond to it. I'll be attending several inquiry meetings this week in preparation for that response, mostly with Carmelites, whose spirituality I connect very strongly and fundamentally with.

The only thing I don't know is how my role as a wife and mother fits into all of this. My children are my biggest job, my greatest reward. My husband is my dearest one, I love him so much I just can't imagine life without him. God is certainly not calling me to give up my vocation as wife, nor my vocation as mother. It's something I'm absolutely passionate about. And yet, we all long for community life that brings us closer to the precious Ones our Jesus asked us to serve. We have lived by the values of poverty and obedience for a long time. Now we are observing chastity.
What does that mean for us, for our kids, for me? Should we just open up our home to homeless people? Should we open a soup kitchen in our yard? Should we get rid of all our clothes and things? Frequently, we aren't even sure where our own rent and food will come from--- so how will we know how to feed others? Won't people think we are insane? What if my husband does find a community that will take him? What will that mean for me and the children?

So many questions-- but dont mistake them for a loss of peace. There is a scene in the movie St Francis where Brother Francis is downstairs in the monastary chapel agonizing, praying, screaming and crying out to the Lord to help him-- help him! Clare and the other sister are standing at the top of the stairs wondering what to do, and the other sister says: "Only God can help him now."
And He did. I know that God will help us. From there comes my peace.

St Francis gave up his life to wear a brown robe, give up all his possessions and preach the gospel to the poor and needy, goving all he had. He was a revolutionary, but Jesus Himself said that when we go out to preach, we are not even to take an extra cloak.

In our family, we have always given. Money, time, ourselves. In my marriage, I give more and more each day of myself.... I feel that I am almost becoming eclipsed. In my motherhood, I am giving more and more of myself. I feel that I am losing myself for them. And yet I desire to retain some portion of my self-- to keep it hidden away, so that I can have something to offer to God over and over again.

Lord, give us wisdom. Grant us peace. Have mercy on us, poor sinners.