poverty of spirit

Find me over on Ignitum Today.

A few months ago, I quit the full-time job I’d landed right out of school, married a college senior, moved four states away, and planned to find work. It was taking longer than we expected, so in the meantime, we pinched our pennies: no bottle of wine to celebrate our first home together, no haircuts (which we both desperately wanted), no dinners out, no beer in the fridge, no dessert. Between the yardwork, freelance writing, babysitting, tutoring, and violin lessons, we wondered if we’d even be able to visit family for Christmas.

And so, I whined. I spent the whole three months pining after chocolate chip cookies, a haircut, and some new clothes (even if they came from a thrift store). I wanted so badly to have friends over frequently and cook fancy dinners for them, or at least provide them with snacks without secretly squirming. I sometimes got angry at my husband, who kept telling me (in that helpful way he has) that things will be okay – I only got angrier. God’s definition of okay is not the same as my definition of okay. I want a job so I can stop worrying about rent and finally get a cute haircut. In God’s idea of okay, maybe I wouldn’t find a job, and we would run out of money, get evicted, awkwardly ask family if we can move in with them, feel like total failures, and – well, I don’t know, grow in holiness, then praise God for it all. He does that to people. Haven’t you ever read a saint’s life?

I got a call the other day – a job offer. My vision cleared. Suddenly I’m embarrassed by my whining and panicking and the dirty looks I sometimes gave Our Lord in the tabernacle. Mary, I’ve got you. I know what you need and I will take care of you. Yes. Okay. Fine. You win. You love me, and I’ll stop trying to prove to you that you don’t.

Wouldn’t this have been easier if I believed all along what I knew?

Saints often speak highly of poverty, but it’s easy for us lay people to assume that since we’re not called to religious life, we’re not called to poverty. We hear about camels and needles’ eyes, and we comfort ourselves knowing that it’s not bad to have things, only to be attached to them – and we often don’t realize how attached we really are. I didn’t take a vow of poverty, but I’m living a kind of minor poverty, and I’m learning what poverty teaches best – detachment.

“Just as self-love is violent, turbulent, and impetuous, so the care that comes from it is full of trouble, uneasiness, and disquiet. As love of God is sweet, peaceable, and calm, so also the care that proceeds from such love, even if it is for worldly good, is amiable, sweet, and agreeable.” –St. Francis de Sales, Introduction to the Devout Life

I couldn’t get that cute haircut I wanted, couldn’t buy new clothes, couldn’t order pizza on the days I didn’t feel like cooking. I need a job, just enough for rent and groceries, and a cute haircut – I’m not being selfish; we don’t need a yacht or a vacation to Europe. Let’s forget that foregoing the yacht and the vacation to Europe aren’t real sacrifices. I’m not greedy – and I’m proud of it. I wanted a haircut. It was frustrating, and I fought it, crying my little tears about how I just wanted to be financially comfortable.

I’m reminded here of a kid I babysit. He’s too young to know what a yacht is, but his tears look just like mine – frustrated and angry when he doesn’t get what he wants. His mom looks at him, shakes her head, and asks him “Are you two?”

He is. I’m not. I haven’t been two for more than twenty years. I still want pizza, but is spaghetti really that bad?

The job offer was a glimpse at things being okay. I looked back and saw that we hadn’t run into any disasters. I didn’t die of boring hair or even get a maiming disease from not having another cute shirt. I didn’t really need those things, and I don’t really need them now. Spaghetti isn’t that bad. The clothes I have are fine. We were always able to pay rent on time, and we never went without groceries. We even kept chocolate chips as a staple. Did I really forget to be grateful for my wonderful husband? The Lord is my Shepherd, there is nothing I shall want – but when I don’t let him lead me, I start wanting. And I start panicking, because I’m lost and I don’t have a shepherd.

I haven’t decided whether to accept the offer – there’s still a lot to think about. If it doesn’t work out, we’ll remain in financial limbo a little longer. No pizza, no long drives, no dinners out for a while yet – but I can be okay with that now. And I can be at peace.

Note: After I wrote this, but before it was edited and published, our job situation fell into place beautifully. Thanks be to God!

my terrible parents

When I was a kid, I sometimes thought I had terrible parents. We kids walked to school, most days carrying sandwiches we'd made earlier that morning. (Mom didn't make our lunch. She also never bought us Lunchables. And we could only get hot lunch twice a week.) We had to come home right after school, unless we had basketball practice, and we weren't allowed to stop and play in the park. My mom taught us piano lessons and made us practice, and we had to dress up for Mass every Sunday. We didn't play on soccer teams, didn't watch much TV, didn't swear, and didn't buy the cool toys the other kids had.

It got so bad that one day I told my mom she was a terrible mom, because she had ugly toenails. (My friends' moms painted theirs.)

Now I am an adult (of sorts), graduated from college, having held a real adult job for a year, and married. I'm looking out into the world and realizing that few kids were as lucky as I was. I'm reading about people running into all sorts of trouble because their parents didn't do something I took for granted. I'm angry at the parents for not caring more about their kids, saddened by the thought that these parents may not have had the best parents themselves, may not have known what my parents knew, and may not have had the same resources.

Overwhelmingly, though, I'm grateful for the family I grew up in.

My parents stayed married, and happily married. They had their moments of tension, but those didn't last long. I remember two big moments of tension; I also remember apologies and forgiveness in front of us kids immediately after. When my mom's aunt, who she was very close to, died, she cried - and my dad held her, all day it seemed. My parents loved each other, and we knew it like we knew that gravity pulls down - it's so obvious you forget to notice.

It was all terrible - can't you tell?

I grew up thinking that's what marriage is. Arguments happen, but they aren't normal and they're always resolved. Vows are lifetime commitments, period. Love requires work, and it's rewarding. So when I started to think about getting married, I knew to look for a man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, a man who understood that marriage was a lifetime commitment, a man I would trust with any children I (we) might have, a man who had the maturity and responsibility required to live up to that. And so, knowing what to look for, I found a good man.

My mom cooked dinner nearly every night, and we ate together as a family. Going out somewhere nice, grabbing McDonald's, and ordering pizza all happened, but that was the exception. I learned that a real dinner includes a balance of protein, carbs, a vegetable, and a glass of milk, and I grew up healthy. I learned table etiquette. I helped my mom cook sometimes, and I learned the basics of cooking - how to boil pasta, how to cook chicken and hamburger, how to tell when the meat's thoroughly cooked (and why that's important).

Yeah, that was terrible, too.

When I lived on my own for a year, I tried to cook dinner, too. Eventually I resorted to scrambled eggs, Hot Pockets, and grilled cheese for most meals, but I knew they weren't real dinners, that they weren't healthy, and that they wouldn't be my long-term dinner routine. I looked forward to the day when I had time to prepare and eat a real dinner with my future family - protein, carbs, vegetables, and a glass of milk. It costs less and is healthier, even if it requires more work and more time. And now, my husband and I share cooking responsibilities. We make good dinners (most of the time) and save a lot of money we aren't spending on more expensive prepared food.

You know what else I learned from my parents? Comprehensive sex education, and it didn't cost a penny from the federal government. It took 20 minutes, or a lifetime. My mom sat me down one afternoon and told me how it all worked. It was a lesson in biology, psychology, morality, everything all rolled into one. After that 20 minutes, if you'd told me about homosexuality, fornication, contraception, divorce, abortion, adultery, or anything else contrary to Christian marriage, it would have been easy for me to see that it was wrong. Of course abstinence-till-marriage made sense. Of course fidelity-within-marriage made sense. Of course contraception didn't make sense. Of course all of it. And dressing modestly, too.

That was the 20 minutes. The other part of the lesson was in how my parents lived their lives. They were faithful to each other and happy with each other. Their friends were the same way. They sent us to Catholic schools, where we had a better chance of meeting friends from similar families. They didn't allow co-ed overnights - that is, until we got older and the visiting boyfriend slept in the guest room downstairs and the daughter slept in her bedroom upstairs. When we were out late in high school, they stayed up (or got up) when we were expected home. They knew our friends' parents and chatted with them. They were careful about what we saw on TV. When we were little, my mom frequently sent us outside to play, so when we were teenagers, we weren't accustomed to watching much TV anyway.  We talked about things over family dinners. I knew I could always come to my mom with questions, and I did, often - oh, especially in the teary-eyed years of adolescent worry.

You know what they did? They believed something, and believed it like they believed that gravity pulls down - so obvious they forgot to notice. And they lived their lives that way. They raised their kids that way, and we understood.

I'm married, and, consequently, I'm thinking about parenting. Often I worry that I won't have what it takes, or that I'll be a terrible mom. But I hope that, if I am a terrible mom, I'll be just as terrible as my mom.

how a woman can win

This was originally posted at Ignitum Today. Pingbacks include Pillar of Fire and Big Pulpit.

“New research shows that The Pill reduces lubrication, arousal, and a woman’s ability to orgasm, thus lending credence to my theory that a lot of hormonal birth control “controls” whether or not you give “birth” by making you never want to have sex. We just can’t win with our ladyparts, can we?” –Jezebel

We women can’t win because we’re playing the wrong game. The Jezebel article sounds like a team of short people complaining that they just can’t win against the team of tall people in basketball. If you want to win, don’t play a game where the deck is stacked against you.

It’s so easy, comparatively, for men to enjoy sexual encounters without consequences. They can’t get pregnant and can easily walk away from the responsibilities of parenting, remembering to take the Pill, dealing with the side effects of the Pill, deciding whether to abort, and balancing all of this with the rest of life – careers, college, work. Oh, and men are less susceptible to STDs.

The deck is stacked against women in the game of increasing sexual pleasure while decreasing consequences. We aren’t going to win. As if it weren’t already obvious that we’re submitting to men and agreeing to their rules, My Daily Moment published a list of pros and cons of one-night stands which encourages women to enjoy sex like a man.

But why? Why should women do that? What’s wrong with enjoying sex like a woman? What’s wrong with being a woman?

Many women enjoy hooking up without commitments and obligations; I won’t pretend otherwise. But hookups are not risk-free, especially for women, and we bear the brunt of the consequences. It isn’t fair.

So let’s play a game that is fair – a game where women aren’t shortchanged, where we’re free to enjoy sex like women. Where we’re free to be women, and where it’s okay to have bodies like ours – bodies that, naturally, get pregnant from sex. Where pregnancy doesn’t ruin our plans, reputations, friendships, or financial stability. Where our sexual partners don’t get angry over our pregnancies but love us all the more – and stick around and help with all the challenges that come along.

The true liberator of women, I think, is Catholic marriage and motherhood.

Objection 1: Catholic marriage is designed to keep women barefoot, pregnant, and overwhelmed with screaming children and poopy diapers. It is also designed to keep them in the house not doing anything worthwhile while men are out doing Important Things.

I reply that: we’re playing the wrong game again. The short guys would have an advantage if they figured out what they were good at (debate? rock climbing? dance?) and challenged the tall guys to a game of that. Basketball isn’t the be-all and end-all of life. Neither are hookups. Neither are careers.

So what are women good at?

Motherhood. It’s something men cannot do. The Catholic Church says motherhood is awesome. And Catholics who are faithful to the Church (the ones who are against contraception) really believe that.

Exhibit A, a quote from a Catholic priest (Joseph Cardinal Mindszenty):

The most important person on earth is a mother. She cannot claim the honor of having built Notre Dame Cathedral. She need not. She has built something more magnificent than any cathedral: a dwelling for an immortal soul, the tiny perfection of her baby’s body. The angels have not been blessed with such a grace. They cannot share in God’s creative miracle to bring new saints to heaven. Only a human mother can. Mothers are closer to God the Creator than any other creature. God joins forces with mothers in performing this act of creation. What on God’s good earth is more glorious than this: to be a mother?

Motherhood is difficult, yes. But joining forces with God and bringing new life into the world? Lovingly caring for the tiniest, weakest, most vulnerable people? Forming and shaping the next generation, raising them to be responsible adults capable of making the world a better place?

Find me something more noble and more important than that.

Of course, Dad has an indispensable role to play, too, and if he is a good dad, he sticks around and contributes toward it. Motherhood is particularly glorious in that Mom gets to be the vessel in which God creates a new life.

So, let’s look at men’s role in all this – the second objection to my premise.

Objection 2: Catholics don’t believe in divorce. Women are expected to be chained to husbands who are probably abusive, or are otherwise worthless slobs.

I reply that: The Catholic Church expects more out of men than the modern feminist does. And men can live up to that.

The Catholic Church expects fidelity out of men, and men can be faithful. The Catholic Church expects maturity out of men, and men can be mature. The Catholic Church expects self-sacrificing, spouse-serving love out of men, and men can do this, too.

St. John Chrysostom recommends that husbands say this to their wives (and mean it):

“I have taken you in my arms, and I love you, and I prefer you to my life itself. For the present life is nothing, and my most ardent dream is to spend it with you in such a way that we may be assured of not being separated in the life reserved for us … I place your love above all things, and nothing would be more bitter or painful to me than to be of a different mind than you.”

The Catholic Church teaches that any kind of abuse is sinful, and as husbands have a particular duty to their wives and children, abuse of wives and children is even more sinful. The Church also teaches that it’s sinful to seek sexual pleasure from anyone or anything except your spouse – which means no affairs, no masturbation, no porn (which, incidentally, makes it harder for men to appreciate real women). Women who marry Good Catholic Men are pretty well-off – loved and appreciated for who they are, not for how well they do in bed. Those men are not leaving you to change diapers and manage your crazy hormones all alone.
Incidentally, Catholic wedding vows bind husbands just as much as they bind wives. While it is not possible to break the bonds of marriage except by death, the Church permits separation in the case of abuse, for the protection of the children and the abused spouse.

So what?

So we can relax. The Catholic Church provides a safe haven for women; we aren’t under attack here. Motherhood is seen as an incredible gift, and men rise to a higher standard of maturity and love their wives. Getting a lifetime commitment from someone who thinks you’re awesome and will give his life for you, and to play a game we’re naturals at – what could more liberating than that?

And that’s how we win.

mission: perspective

A version of this article was published at Ignitum Today. It was also posted on Inspired, Monday, August 13, 2012.

It’s interesting how different reality looks when it’s on paper, in neat paragraphs, all in the right order. There, I am a powerhouse. I am strong; I am adventurous; I am embarking on a mission with eternal consequences and not looking back.

But for all my talk of heroism and mission, I’m often tempted to throw in the towel, despair, and give up.

I wrote earlier about how marriage is a mission, and how Christian married couples, if they shine as beacons of virtue, can take the world by storm and save the world from its sexual dysfunction.

But right now I don’t feel like taking the world by storm, or shining as a beacon of virtue. I feel kind of sullen and selfish. I’m mad at my husband (of just over a month) for asking me to leave the dishes for him when he gets home from work. I’m mad at him for buying a stick shift (the former bachelor thought it was manly) instead of an automatic. I’m mad at him for owning four coffee makers when I don’t drink coffee and our counter and cupboard space is cramped.

And, after spending much of our engagement preaching loudly about how stupid it is to expect a flawless wedding day, I’m still trying to compose the perfect toast for the occasion, and trying to make myself have given it.

When I start writing, I start trying to take the world by storm again. I start thinking I’m better than everyone else, as if putting heroism and virtue into paragraphs was the same as living it. (I am virtuous. You can tell because I’m happy. Admit it – I’m just oozing with irresistible joy, and you’re about to convert because of it.)

It isn’t enough to say these things. We must live them. And yes, marriage is a mission, and it requires hard work and discipline, just like marathons and Amazon explorations. But I’m on duty even when I’m not feeling strong and adventurous.

Some days I’m ready for a fistfight or wrestling match with whatever power of evil would tempt me to love my dear husband less. Some days I’m ready to climb mountains and soar. But some days I’m just tired.

Some days I have a bad cold, or a stressful afternoon, or not enough sleep last night. I’m a woman, and some days my hormones do weird things. Some days I don’t feel like cooking, and some days we don’t have leftovers. Sometimes my sense of adventure just has to wait.

But I have to love anyway. My mission doesn’t change, even on days when I’m just not feeling it. I don’t have to feel strong and powerful in order to love deeply and steadily.

Maybe instead of wielding a sword and forcing myself to be happy, darnit, about the coffee makers, the stick shift, the offer to wash dishes, I should just shrug and look the other way. I’m annoyed about some petty things. Okay. I know that, in the past, I’ve laughed about the coffee makers, felt proud at how far my stick-shift driving has come, and been grateful for his offers to help with housework. Those were emotions, too, and they’ll come back.

I never promised to be passionate; I didn’t vow inexhaustible energy or permanent cheer. When I’m not in the mood to deliver a powerful blow to the enemy’s face, when all I can do is sigh and return to my work – that’s what I must do. That’s my fidelity and commitment. That’s the love and honor I did vow.

And, for the days I don’t feel like doing anything heroic – that’s my job. And I can do that.

marriage and mission

A version of this appeared on Catholic Exchange a few weeks after Luke and I married. Read the article here. It originally appeared on Inspired Saturday, March 17, a few months before our wedding.

So your old roommate’s in seminary and your sister just made first vows, and you’re feeling a little guilty getting excited for your wedding. Marriage isn’t exactly a straightforward regimen toward holiness (you do get to have sex, after all) and isn’t it the default life plan for the leftover people, the ones who didn’t make the vocational cut?

Not at all. If God has called you to the married life, he’s entrusted you with a serious mission. With one foot in the natural world and one in the supernatural – for Christian marriage is a natural state made supernatural by the grace of the sacrament – Christian married couples have a unique means to evangelization. Today’s world needs marriage – needs good Christian marriage – to stand as a sign of contradiction to the world and show the truth and beauty of the faith.

First, love. Everything is about love. Why did God create the world? Why did Christ die on the cross? Why did the martyrs suffer? What makes people saints? What is the greatest and most fundamental desire of the human heart? What is the whole point of everything? Love. Not the warm, fuzzy “luv” rooted in fickle hormones, but the hardcore, disciplined, self-sacrificing love that God is and asks of us. When people seek love, they naturally look to the opposite sex; often, they snuggle close and are left unfulfilled. Christian married couples give the world a concrete example of what real love looks like in a context where the world expects to find love: a relationship between a man and a woman.

Our world is obsessed with sex, and Christian married couples show that people are happier and more fulfilled with a sexually ordered life. The world says sex is a great means of exchanging pleasure (in which you hope not to exchange diseases). Christian marriage says sex is a great gift from God and has a purpose: to express a love deeper than any pleasure, and, if God wills, to let that love become incarnate in a child. Celibate religious show by their lives that joy doesn’t depend on sexual activity. Christian married couples show by their lives what sexual activity is for. Our world needs to see that, too.

Our world doesn’t like to be constrained by commitments; it considers them impediments to freedom. Christian married couples find freedom in commitment. Christian spouses don’t worry that the back door may still be open; they are free to be themselves entirely and to give themselves completely to each other without worrying that the other might leave. Christian married couples show that commitment is a source of a deeper freedom: a freedom for excellence, a freedom from one’s own whims and inconstancies – and those of one’s spouse. Commitment prohibits sexual flings with the attractive co-worker. Commitment requires that spouses work out their disagreements. The sacrifice required to turn back to one’s spouse in love during times of temptation is tiny compared to the deep pain many spouses know from regret, betrayed trust, and divorce.

Our world assaults motherhood and children. The world speaks of pregnancy as a disease and a hormonally manipulated and malfunctioning reproductive system as a healthy one. Children are burdens and motherhood is a hassle you try to fit around your important work, the world says. Christian families affirm the value of motherhood and children. The Christian ethic that proclaims the sanctity of all human life, from conception till natural death, doesn’t stop at mere existence but proceeds to sanctity. Christian married couples welcome children and refuse contraception and abortion, but they don’t stop there. Christian parents devote their lives to the good of their children, attending to their physical, spiritual, emotional, and psychological needs. Christian parents love. They don’t merely want their children to survive to adulthood and hold a job but to grow to adulthood as whole persons willing to give their whole selves when they find their vocation. Christian parents who are dedicated to their children work to fill the world with loving adults and, eventually, to fill heaven with saints. Christian parents show the world that children are gifts, not burdens.

Christian married couples can’t give the witness of wearing a cassock or habit in public. They can’t say Mass or hear confessions. They can’t spend all day feeding the poor, or studying and writing, or praying in a chapel. Priests and religious live another form of that hardcore, disciplined, self-sacrificing love – work essential to the life of the Church and the world, but work married couples can’t do. We need priests and religious to commit their lives to that work. But we need Christian married couples, too. A Christian marriage isn’t the same as everyone else’s marriage. Infused with the grace of the sacrament, Christian married couples can evangelize in a way that priests and religious can’t, giving a powerful example of authentic love exactly where the world expects to see it. In a unique and necessary way, Christian marriage affirms the existence of real love.

And isn’t love exactly what our world needs?

Thank you, Al Gore

Emily said it best.

I started this blog in September so that I would write. I had two ends in mind: first, writing more would make me a better writer, and second, writing what I'm thinking would force me to think things through all the way.

It's not especially important to me whether anyone reads this or not. The point is that I keep writing, and some vague idea that someone might read this is enough motivation.

It's weird not writing for an audience though. I made the beginning of my Jackson paper alliterate, but I would never do that for a history professor. I let spelling and punctuation slide when I'm emailing my sisters, but I would never do that in a newspaper. I scrawl in thank-you notes to my friends but write neatly in thank-you notes to my grandmother. It isn't dishonesty, it's just that you treat different people differently. No matter what I'm writing, the audience is in the front of my mind.

But here, I'm not writing for an audience. Not officially, anyway. But I know four people who read this regularly and at least two who read it every so often, and it's hard not to gear my thoughts in their direction.

For this post, however, I do have an audience in mind: Emily and Anne, my beautiful, wonderful, completely different sisters. Look:

"Your shoulder bit my tooth!"

"Mom, I don't really need black shoes."
"That's why!"
"That's why what?"
"That's why she never buys you anything when I don't come!"

Crayola still makes historical markers.

"Emily has a boyfriend, Emily has a boyfriend!"
"Will you shut up!"
"No. Emily has a boyfriend, Emily has a boyfriend!"

"I din't hev a suth'n twaang!"

"That's south of the Mason-Dixie line."

Emily: Anne, you can't wear that green striped sweater with the blue skirt.
Anne: Why not?
Mary: Anne, even *I* know better than that!

Swing dance turned self-defense turned I don't really want to fall over right now.
"They only do this when there are guys over."
"No, that's actually not true."
"Yeah, she was beating me up in the kitchen yesterday."

"Anne, are you going to eat that?"
"No."
"Anne, is that all you're going to eat?"
"Yes."
"Anne, aren't you going to eat anything?"
"No."
"Anne, eat something."
"I just ate five pieces of pizza at quiz bowl!"

Pianatapanastokavadi!

my favorite gmail chat conversation ever-
"Is that book still in the living room?"
"What book?"
"Captivating."
"Maybe, I dunno. I'm up in my room."
"Okay, I'll go look."
"Good, cause you're closer to the living room anyway."
"Anne stole it. It was in her room."
"Oh, I wondered what she came up here for."
"I can hear you laughing."
"Have you started the book?"
"No, but if you ask me the same question...wait..."
"You're gonna read one sentence then tell me you did."
"Now I have. Yes yes, lil sis, you called me out."
"Punk. Warthog-faced buffoon."
"Actually, I read one and a half."
"I hear you laughing down there."
"That is Anne laughing. I mean, coughing."
"I'm sure. You're probably choking her to death."

"Your cell phone looks like a rabbit!"

empty

Anne and I took the last leaf out of the table before dinner. I've often marveled at what a good idea it was first to invent and second to find a table with leaves. Growing up, we had two leaves in the table and three for company. As we started graduating and moving out, the table got smaller and smaller and leaves started accumulating in the front closet. Now, they only come out when everyone is home, and we put the last one away today.

Emily left first, driving away in yesterday's rain that turned the knee-deep snow into mist. She called to let us know she'd made it to her friend's house in Ohio, where she stayed the night, then again when she arrived in Atlanta.

Joe left right after Mass and breakfast this morning, his Monte Carlo moving matter-of-factly toward Arlington. He called home when he arrived.

Paul stayed for euchre and left before noon, then returned to pick up his Costa Rican shotglass. The Oldsmobile clunked down the street, bound for Cleveland. He left the polyurethane for me on the table in the basement.

And then there were four and the table was shrunk.

Evidences of my family are scattered throughout the house. A new fan (with lights!) hangs over the family room. Emily and Joe each left a pair of shoes, and I still haven't cleaned up the golden-brown mess Paul and I left on the table when the polyurethane leaked through the cardboard. I have far more clothing in my room than I really need, some of it new (that's Emily's fault). A walking stick leans in the corner of my room. There are still five beds for all of us. The house is too big for a small family.

Briefly I thought about crying my eyes out, but mostly I feel a calm, empty sadness.

And today?

Today is the feast of the Holy Family.