Age Quod Agis

There is a Latin saying, widely used among Jesuits, that is close to my heart: "Age quod agis."  Loosely translated, it means "Do what you're doing."  The phrase is an encouragement to commit yourself fully to whatever task is at hand; but more than that, it can be taken as an instruction to thrive within your present circumstances instead of longing for or worrying about the future.  To do well whatever assignment God has currently given you.  Or, to use a modern equivalent, bloom where you're planted.

This is challenging, especially when your present situation is difficult or even painful, or if you are looking forward to a new chapter that hasn't arrived yet.  I am thankful to be writing from the second perspective, but I have many friends and family members who are currently experiencing the first. 

I often find myself wishing God would work faster.  I struggle to embrace the in-between times, especially when I know something good is on its way.  Like our son, who will be born in two months.  Suddenly I am tempted to be discontent, to take my eyes off all of the blessings in front of me right now.  Worse still, it becomes all too easy to neglect the people and tasks currently entrusted to my care.  It's hard to love fully without being present in the moment.  When my eyes and my heart are fixed on something that has not arrived yet, they aren't available for the ones who need me today:  family, friends and even strangers I might meet who could use a kind word.

The phrase also speaks to me about obedience and discerning God's will on a daily basis.  How can I know if I am fulfilling God's expectations of me on any given day? Father Walter Ciszek, a priest arrested and imprisoned in Russia during World War II, dealt with this same uncertainty during his long period of captivity in prisons and labor camps.  He felt cut off from opportunities to serve God in the ways he had expected to, mainly to serve as a priest in a community and minister to the Russian people, whose faith was constantly under attack from the Soviet government and who he felt a special calling to serve.

Ciszek ultimately realized that God had already placed him exactly where he was intended to be at that time, even if it was far from his own desires and plans.  To truly serve God, he had to overcome his fixation on what might have been and refocus on what actually was.  When he did, he found that even in such a seemingly hopeless situation he was able to help those around him, often by holding clandestine Masses for fellow prisoners within the labor camp.  I recommend his memoirHe Leadeth Me to any interested in a wonderful example of perseverance in faith. 

The young saint Aloysius Gonzaga, who lived in the 1500s, by all accounts also embraced God's will in his life as it manifested in the everyday.  Once, while playing soccer, he was asked by a companion, "Brother, if you knew you were to die just now, what would you do?"  Instead of the pious answer we might expect, he replied, "I would continue playing because at this moment, it is the will of God for me."  For me, this short vignette also illustrates the fact that God's will does not only consist of opportunities to serve but also includes the call to enjoy.  We glorify God when we savor and take pleasure in his gifts, much like such appreciation would delight a doting human father. 

I hope that you and I can learn to practice this brand of everyday holiness, grow in faith and find fulfillment simply by being ourselves right where God has put us.

Our Down-to-Earth God

Some of my favorite moments in my relationship with God are those when his guidance is simple and practical.  Down-to-earth, for lack of a better term.  Or maybe there isn't a better term, because he does actually interact with me down here on earth each day.  Jesus was down-to-earth in the most literal sense.  Ours is a God who meets us where we are, even in the small and sometimes boring details. 

Yesterday, he helped liberate me from the tyranny of housework.  (Forgive my melodrama, I just stress about it more than seems to be normal or healthy.  I actually have burst into spontaneous tears over it, much to my husband's surprise and dismay.)   I came home from work with a headache and flopped onto our bed for a nap, planning on being productive when I got up.  And then that moment came when the alarm went off and I actually had to summon up the stamina to regroup and face the music, er, laundry and dishes and trash to go out. (My husband was out of town, he would otherwise have helped me.) As I lay there trying to motivate myself, I heard a different and refreshing perspective: "Stephanie, why don't you stop worrying so much, and instead go get some exercise.  Do something you enjoy.  It's ok to let it sit for a little while."  I needed to hear that, that God doesn't want or expect me to be so rigid, even with respect to my duties and my efforts to be a good wife.  He knew I needed permission to be human, and sometimes humans get worn down and the house just has to stay imperfect for a day longer.  (Especially third-trimester pregnant humans.)

Instead of the tiring, monotonous evening I expected, I was given the gift of an enjoyable work-out and a replenishing night of rest.  In addition, he reminded me to make the most of my last days of pre-child freedom, something I often forget to relish but know I will soon miss. 

I am so grateful that God was watching me on an ordinary weeknight, and that like a loving parent he stooped down to take my hand and pick me up.   

Living Simply and Outsmarting Ego

When I'm in outdoor-wear stores with my husband, which is often, I sometimes see Patagonia t-shirts with the slogan "Live Simply" and different designs.  I am always drawn to them, because something about those words whispers peace and contentment to me.  Lately in my prayer life God seems to be leading me in that direction- that although he is the true source of my peace and contentment, living more simply in terms of material things will remove distractions that keep my loved ones and I from him and really don't make us any happier.  In fact, sometimes they weigh me down.

My husband and I are currently preparing for the birth of our first son, due in early December.  With a little over two months to go, we can hear the clock running down on our time to purchase and assemble our baby gear and make sure the nursery is stocked and- here is my major pitfall- decorated.  Even as I write this I am mentally shopping for remaining items we don't have yet.  We jokingly refer to it as my nesting urge, and I have no doubt my hormones are playing a role, but I also am coming to notice it as a spiritual threat if left unchecked.

At times like this God makes it clear how acutely aware he is of both my life circumstances and my heart.  What better conditions to help me understand materialism and idolatry than our joy and parenting ambition combined with a subtle hint of pride and yes, competition (at least I know I am struggling with these things, I cannot speak for my husband.) 

The tricky part is that we do actually need a whole assortment of new supplies to take care of our first baby.  In a certain sense our home and belongings do need expansion.  I believe this is a key part of the nature of temptation- the kernel of truth and legitimacy, mixed with some untruth and sinful inclinations.  It is a brilliant strategy and the devil is wise; after all, he was first an angel.  But in his relentless love and faithful protection, God is persistently drawing my attention to it. 

It is ok, the Holy Spirit guides me, to purchase necessary material things.  The important thing is to ask myself what is truly needed (versus only desired) and to be responsible in my choices with regard to price.  I need to pause and look at my motivation: once I've identified that yes, we truly need this item, is my pride insisting that we have the "best" one?  Am I passing over less-expensive options that would fulfill our purpose in favor of pricier, more stylish alternatives? 

Last week I read a passage in a collection of insights of early Christians that caught my attention and articulates this point: "A life of luxury weakens the spirit. Frugality makes it strong. And yet, how can anyone be considered poor who does not feel any want, who does not covet what belongs to others, who is rich in God's eyes? Much more should he be considered poor who always craves for more while he already has much."

I don't want to perpetuate that kind of poverty in our family, to be surrounded by beautiful things but unsatisfied and distracted.  Instead, we can have the true wealth of uncluttered hearts and healthy priorities and also use our abundance to help our brothers and sisters in need.  We can give our son a legacy of contentment, humility and appreciation that will help him on his own quest for the only Treasure that satisfies and lasts.   

God Passing By

Sometimes the best barometer of God's presence and action in my life is actually my changing self- how my perceptions, choices and reactions have shifted.  Like ripples on a surface of water indicate the wind's activity, increases in my own spiritual maturity reflect God's acting upon me. Most of all, I see this in my capacity to love.  

I am encouraged when a situation presents itself that previously would have made me impatient or found me indifferent and instead I am able to see with a new perspective.  On the flip side, it also helps to reflect and see where I may have missed an opportunity.  How could I have loved that person better? How would God have liked me to respond? Each day, when viewed this way, provides opportunities for growth.  

In the book of Exodus we read about Moses boldly asking God to appear to him, saying, "show me your glory."  To be honest I don't fully understand what he means by that, but the essence seems to be that he wants the Mystery revealed, that talking with God still leaves him curious and wanting to see the Almighty face-to-face.  But there also seems to be some doubt there, a need for more proof.  (Apparently the parting of the Red Sea wasn't reassuring enough.)  In response God, ever patient and generous,  explains to him that he cannot see fullness of the divine glory but that Moses will be allowed to see God's back as He passes by.  

Like much of the Old Testament, this passage leaves me with many questions. What does God's back look like? Is it un-glorious? How does Moses benefit from such a strange encounter? What does God have up His sleeve here?  Like Moses, I'm frustrated by the mystery.  Only a piece of the puzzle has been revealed.

Yet more and more I'm noticing that my own relationship with God follows this pattern.  I hear His Voice (in my heart, not my ears)  but I am always asking to see Him.  Now that I think about it, maybe He is passing in front of me every day and I can clearly see His "back" if I look with the right eyes.  

Maybe that means listening with empathy to the problems of someone I find abrasive and instead of judging offering any help or love I can.  Or being more conscious of the unmet needs and struggles of others.

I take comfort in these everyday victories most of all because I know, deep down, that the change didn't start with me.  I am being molded by a wise and loving hand.  I can't see Him, but that doesn't mean God isn't passing by.

He/I or We

When I witness a couple in what seems to be a healthy, loving marriage, the outstanding characteristic that I notice is unity.  Beyond being simply affectionate, there is a resolute one-ness they communicate to others.  I am struck by this solidarity and lately I have noticed, with the help of the Holy Spirit, that it speaks "love" to me in a unique and pretty awe-inspiring way.  I think that this awe stems from the realization (again, God) that unity in marriage takes work, discipline, sacrifice and obedience.  In other words, it's not natural.

Since our wedding last December, I've spent more time mulling over Jesus's words in Mark on husband and wife: So they are no longer two but one flesh.  Therefore what God has joined together let man not separate.  In the past, I've always interpreted this as a warning to be vigilant about outside treats, to protect against intrusions.  But now that I'm experiencing it from the inside, I am noticing that a more subtle and insidious danger exists- my husband and I both face the daily temptation to rupture our one-ness by acting as individuals when we are designed and commanded to function as a single life.  One Flesh.  

For instance, in decisions.  When we are not physically together, inevitably we will encounter choices to be made that will affect our marriage to some degree.  I am  a very decisive person by nature, so to stop and consult my husband is both difficult and counterintuitive for me.  But when I yield to God's direction and surrender my own need to control, I find that the outcome is better than what I had planned myself.  

As his wife, I am called to trust my husband's judgement and ultimately to respect the decisions he makes on behalf  of our family.  Which is not to say that my opinion doesn't matter; only that my role is to support and not to detract.

To be one flesh means to be one body; and the body parts can't live if they don't work together.  In the same way, our marriage can't survive if we refuse unity in the name of our own individual desires.  To use some of Jesus's other words, later borrowed by Abraham Lincoln: a house divided against itself cannot stand.

So every day, with God's help, I will strive to defeat my own pride and self-will and instead watch our bond grow stronger.

"Good" Enough Isn't Good Enough

Be perfect, therefore, as your Heavenly Father is perfect.  Matthew 5:48

It is becoming clear to me that when writing these posts, it is not me speaking to you so much as it is God teaching me and allowing me to share the experience with others. 

This past week my lesson has been on the subject of compromise.  More specifically, my compromises with Him.  I have been alerted to the little corners I like to cut, actions and choices that are not necessarily sinful in themselves but that constitute a turning away from what I know in my heart is the Holy Spirit's quiet direction.  So, when it seems I am not listening to that quiet direction, God speaks a little more loudly to get my attention.

I had chosen at random, or so it seemed to me, to take C.S. Lewis's Mere Christianity to work with me on Thursday for reading on my lunch break.  I love his writing, and have read this book before.  But as I idly flipped through the pages while eating, I noticed some of the familiar words touching me with new significance.  Lewis writes (and I am omitting some material for the sake of brevity:)

But we are hoping all the time that when all the demands have been met,the poor natural self will still have some chance, and some time, to get on with its own life and do what it likes.

...make no mistake: if you are really going to try to meet all the demands made on the natural self, it will not have enough left over to live on.  ...Christ says 'Give Me All. I don't want so much of your time and so much of your money and so much of your work: I want You.  I have not come to torment your natural self, but to kill it.  No half-measures are any good.

Ouch.  "Half-measures" is an accurate word to describe many of my decisions, though I profess to follow Christ.  And my attitude, without my realizing it until now, has been just what Lewis is describing.  Avoid the obvious sins, but you can still live like you want to.  Example: at work.  I think: "I can take a mental break here and read the news headlines on my phone.  I have ample time to get my work done, so nothing will really suffer."  And I do complete my work on time.  But at issue here is the attitude of my heart, and my disobedience to my superiors.  I have been told, as an employee, that I am to use the time given me to complete my tasks.  Nothing else.  And I have heard the Holy Spirit nudging me to discipline myself, and to stick to the task for which I am being paid.  And still, I have compromised, at the expense of my eternal well-being.  But now I am realizing that my being "good" enough is not good enough, if I truly want to belong to Christ.  More Lewis:

When He said, 'Be perfect,' He meant it.  He meant that we must go in for the full treatment.  It is hard; but the sort of compromise we are all hankering after is harder- in fact, it is impossible.  It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg.  We are like eggs at present.  And you [STEPHANIE] cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg.  We must be hatched or go bad.

Checkmate.  You got me, God, like You always do.  But I can see that my imperfections will not stand in the way of Your teaching, and that gives me hope and makes me happy.

Open Hands or Death Grip?

Who doesn't love a new blessing or an answer to prayer.  God is a Giver of very good gifts, and it can be thrilling to see His provision in a personalized way in our lives.  But I can say from personal experience that each new gift is also a test of priorities.  My heart is clingy, and it's all too easy for me to grab hold of a good thing in the way I'm only supposed to cling to God.  For example: 

Last week I discovered a brand-new, beautiful indoor pool on base.  I can't take credit; I know without a doubt that He led me there, and I am over the moon excited about it.  I had lamented to my husband not long ago that I was bored with my at-home pregnancy workouts and I really miss trail running like I loved to do before I became pregnant.  The exercise felt great, and I was invigorated by trying something new and different that I had never done before.  In between laps, my thought process started to go like this:

Wow, this is awesome.  I love this pool.  I wish I always had access to it.  What if we move?  Well, there will be pools on base wherever we go.  But what if we don't live near base? What if I can't find a good pool?  And so on.  Clearly I had begun to take it upon myself to ensure that I would have this blessing in the future.  Red flag.  Healthier thoughts would have been Thank You, Lord.  I can see once again how well You understand and anticipate my needs and desires.  I trust You to continue to meet those needs and desires in the future as You deem best for me.

But it didn't hit me until later.  As I delightedly showered off and admired the pristine locker room (complete with shampoo and swimsuit water extractor) I felt God speak to my heart.  

The heart of the matter, He helped me to realize, is not simply being grateful to God or even recognizing that every good gift comes from Him (although both are critical.)  The key to being truly blessed- as in biblically blessed, meaning to have lasting joy, to pause and appreciate His intentions for us and the totally unique love that motivates each blessing.  And to bask as much as possible in the fact that the CREATOR OF THE UNIVERSE is deeply and passionately-even jealously- in love with us.

This morning as I opened my Bible and tried to wake up, He put it to me this way: when my husband gives me a thoughtful gift, I am deeply touched by his generous love for me.  I appreciate and enjoy the gift, but my primary happiness and excitement comes from the recognition that he has been thinking of me and desired to do a selfless act for my benefit. 

Now, by the same token, I know my husband would be hurt if I only thanked him briefly (or not at all, if we're really giving a metaphor for God) and proceeded to be totally consumed and distracted by his gift.  He would probably even become angry if I started to treat that gift itself as the source of my happiness, to the point of ignoring him.

Well...you can probably guess the statement I'm about to make, but I'm going to make it anyway.  That is precisely how God feels (or says He feels in Scripture) when each one of us- closer to His Heart than even a husband or wife- cling to blessings in a way that elevates them to idol status.  Exhibit A:  Me obsessing over the pool. 

In the book of Hosea, God more or less fleshes this out for us.  Reading it is illuminating, because there's just something we don't get about the word "idolatry" that we understand better when given a human comparison.  Basically, God commands the Old Testament prophet Hosea to marry a prostitute named Gomer, knowing she will be unfaithful to him.  God then tells him that this is to symbolize God's covenant relationship to Israel (read: all humanity) which we again and again, throughout history going all the way back to the Israelites, violate when we run after idols.  A few of mine: the "perfect" body, human approval and praise, fancy indoor pools, even food.  Hosea is commanded to love her, chase after her, and remain faithful to her and care for her needs even as she cheats on him.  A powerful picture of God's merciful pursuit of us.

I challenge you, reader, to check out Hosea and as you do to consider your own false gods.  It's one of the shorter books in the Bible and you can manage it a day or two.  It's worth investing your time and will lead you to greater joy as you internalize the truth that the Source of all that is good in your life, and all you desire, is both inexaustible and hopelessly devoted to you.

Wanted

It is commonly accepted that the fundamental human need is to be loved.  It may be romantic love, or parental love, or the love of a friend or sibling or relative.  But we need it- all of our being is crying out to know that we are worthy of it.  It's at the root of our other desires- to be noticed, to merit approval, even to develop new relationships. 

Pause for a moment, and see what comes to mind when you hear the phrase "God's Love."  Or better yet, try "Jesus Loves You."   I'm willing to bet that gets a patient nod of the head and a vague acceptance at best, maybe a roll of the eyes, a heavy sigh or even a laugh at worst.  (Please forgive me, Lord, but I cringe when I see one of those bumper stickers.) 

I think our default impression of God's love for us might be somewhat misguided and even a turn-off.  First, it's vaguely collective, not uniquely personal and individual.  We generally believe that God loves humanity, and that He loves us individually in the sense that we each get a small fraction of that global love.   I used to get this mental picture of a gentle grandfatherly type or of that seventies-church-poster-Jesus with the mullet, holding a sheep and laughing.  Honestly, it doesn't really do anything for me.  (Are they sharing a private joke?  Sheep humor?) I would just shrug my shoulders and continue my search for that particular love- the knowledge that I am uniquely loved.  Passionately loved.  Pursued.

During our last deployment, when I was heartsick and lonely for my husband and my love tank was running on fumes, there was a particular song I would listen to that would fill me up again.  The loneliness was still there, but this song would cut through it and give me the reassurance I so desperately needed- that Someone was there with me, captivated by me and ready and willing to romance me.  It's a secular country love song called "Wanted" by Hunter Hayes, and nothing about it particularly says "God."  But I knew, thanks to the Holy Spirit's prodding at my heart, that that's how God really feels about us.  Maybe that song got through to me because it wasn't saturated with the traditional, religious descriptions of God's love often found in Christian music.  It was in terms my human heart could understand.  I won't share all the lyrics, but the chorus is sufficient:

 

I want to wrap you up

Want to kiss your lips

I want to make you feel wanted

I want to call you mine

Want to hold your hand forever

And never let you forget it

I want to make you feel wanted.

 

Now, I do not interpret this as Jesus literally wanting to hold my hand and kiss me, or you.  But the passion and the desire are real, and that goes for ladies and guys.  (I don't know how to interpret it for the men, or what speaks their particular love language.)   But here's the point- He wants to capture our hearts and make us His Own.  He wants us to know that He is hopelessly in love with each one of us, that we have got His attention in our own unique way, and He will never stop pursuing us.  That there is a place in His Heart reserved for us and us alone. 

How is this possible? Because He is infinite.  And infinitely creative, so He is able to romance each of us in intimate ways that only our own heart would understand and appreciate.  So listen a little closer to all those love songs, and be open to the love you were made for. 

Fear of the Unknown

Ever wake up afraid?  Sometimes I do.  Usually after a bad dream, or during times of particular stress or uncertainty.  It isn't a good feeling;  it's almost a mild panic, like I am searching around for something to reassure me that everything is really ok while my senses are saying that no, they aren't.  I woke up afraid twice today, once this morning and again just now, after an otherwise restful and lovely afternoon nap.  (No weird pregnancy dreams then, but definitely last night.  That probably contributed.)

Even now as I write this, I feel unsettled.  Ungrounded.  Which is even more disturbing to me, because if I'm honest and admit it, I am a person of great spiritual pride.  C.S. Lewis says it is the worst kind of pride, and most of the time I walk around with it because, since God is so loving and good to me, I easily assume that I am on the road to holiness and have most of the answers figured out-  even about Him.  

Yikes.  I am twenty-six; obviously I do not have things figured out.  Thankfully He is patient and merciful, and reminds me through uncomfortable experiences like this one that A) I do stumble and am often helpless to comfort or reassure myself and B) there is very, very much that I don't know.  

But while I feel His Presence here with me, gently guiding me, I am still keenly aware of this chilly, nervous feeling in my gut.  Hmmmm.  Isn't the Presence of The Lord supposed to immediately drive that away? Aren't I supposed to feel peaceful?  How is it then that I know He is here but I still feel afraid?  And what exactly am I even afraid of?

I can say, without going into detail, that I have been wrestling with a relatively minor but still very emotionally difficult situation the past few days, and I know that has something to do with my anxiety.  And the weird dream last night (again, not going into detail.  Just know that it was very detailed and was related to the aforementioned difficult situation.)  So from a secular standpoint, it would be possible to write this off altogether as a product of those factors and my pregnancy hormones.  But on a broader scale, I also just feel afraid of the uncertain future, and of the major changes coming to our lives soon.  Afraid of being a parent, especially to a newborn.  Afraid of the pain I know I will feel when my husband deploys again next year.  Afraid, always in the back of my mind, for his safety.  And above all, afraid of somehow drifting away from God.

Yesterday we went to the North Carolina Museum of Art in Raleigh, and one particular painting really tugged at me.  It was The Flight into Egypt by American artist John Singer Sargent, relatively small and dark compared to all of the grand, lavish colors around it, and tucked near the back of the gallery.  But it was its darkness that spoke to my heart.  Or rather, helped me to hear God speaking to my heart.  It looks to be that eerie time at night after the beauty of dusk when the last light is fading and most go into the light and shelter of their homes.  Mary sits on the donkey, their only comfort, leaning against Joseph and looking tired and disheartened.  (At least that is how I read her body; you can't see her face.)  Joseph looks exhausted but resolute, with a definite heaviness in his stance and expression.  All you can see of the baby Jesus is the vague outline of His head in Mary's arm and the bright glow of His halo.  The donkey looks near collapse too.  

This portrayal of the Holy Family comforted me, more so than other representations where they appear to be traveling in relative peace and contentment.  This painting showed me that their journey was difficult and dangerous, uncomfortable and fearful.  I believe that despite the direct communication they received from angels,  they were also at times discouraged and afraid.  And tired.  Just "over it," as I say sometimes.  And all of this while they were so very near to God as to be physically holding His Son in their arms.  

But they persevered, and their lives give me hope.  When I am afraid, I can remember them and the hardships they certainly faced, and know that while I do feel shaken I am still loved.  And always guided, even if I am sometimes afraid along the way.

Marital Mindfulness

My mom gave me a thin silver bracelet last year engraved with the words "Live today like he deploys tomorrow."  (I wish I could give credit specifically where it is due, to the designer, but I at least know she bought it online at Etsy.com.)  I have to admit, I did not appreciate the sentiment at the time.  Of course I vaguely thought of that emotionally-charged last day before a deployment, and how precious each second of it is, but the phrase quickly slipped from my mind and the bracelet ended up in a drawer.  (Sorry, Mom.)

 

But on the other side of last year's deployment and our first few months of marriage,  I've pulled it back out and slipped it on.    Because while I was praying for my husband the other day, The Lord interrupted me.  I thanked Him for blessing me with such an incredible man and asked for guidance to love him better.  Then a lightbulb: I want you to cherish him more.  Appreciate him more.  Keep fresh in your mind how painful those long separations are. 

 

And there I had it.  That was His guidance to me on loving my husband better- to tap into that longing.  That way I can be intentional about valuing him on a moment-to-moment basis.  If he really were deploying tomorrow (and in the not too distant future he will be,) I would do my best to push aside the tears and remind him with every word and action how much I love him and respect him, and possibly go along with his idea on how to spend the day. 

 

But how quickly I forget.  After a few months together that day-to-day routine sets in, and that sharp pang in my heart fades away until next time.  It is as if I put it on the shelf with the other emotions in the deployment segment of my life and don't dust it off again until the next one rolls around.  But with grace I can see beyond the daily grind of laundry and dishes and "Lord, I am too tired to make him happy," and put forth the effort needed to keep reminding myself how precious my husband is, and to keep reminding him of it too. 

 

So much of the life of faith depends our own wills, aided by the Holy Spirit.  I may not feel particularly passionate or even loving today, but I can pause and imagine that painful separation and appreciate what I have.  And of course, if even that proves difficult, I can pray.

Taking Up The Cross

If anyone wishes to be My disciple, they must deny themselves, take up their cross daily and follow Me. Whoever tries to save their life will lose it, but loses their life for My sake will find it. Luke 9:23-24

These words of Jesus are recorded in all four gospels, and in some more than once. It seems like a statement He really wants us to understand; but his repetition suggests that He knows we resist such difficult instructions. We run, ignore them, or at best we do not understand. When I force myself to confront them directly and consider His meaning, I am perplexed and very uncomfortable.

On the subject of discomfort, I should mention what brought me to this post. My husband and I recently discovered we are expecting, and I am currently slogging through the first trimester. I am having a difficult time physically, trying to weather vomiting and dehydration in addition to the trademark fatigue and aches. I have never experienced anything so physically limiting, and for such a prolonged period of time. Although we are joyful at God's blessing to us, I am struggling to function at such a diminished capacity while still working full-time. It is undoubtedly a cross I am encountering for the first time and one of the most trying situations I have experienced.

In my prayers lately I have lamented to God, explaining that I feel further from Him than I did before feeling so terrible. That I feel as though I am letting Him down by not spending as much time reading Scripture as I normally do or being as involved in my ministry responsibilities as I feel I should be. I know it's foolish to place so much weight on my own efforts, but I am so afraid of drifting away. I am a wayward sheep.

The answer I seem to be getting is to accept the reality of the cross in my own life and to see more clearly that, as evident by Jesus' own physical and emotional agony during His Passion, suffering is not indicative of God's disfavor. (See also the Israelites in the desert for 40 years. Or the lives of the apostles. Or basically any saint or martyr.) In fact, Jesus' words above tell my reluctant heart that suffering is part of the program. There will be a cross for each of us, and we are to patiently accept it and keep pressing forward as best we can.

But doesn't He want me to be happy? To have abundant life? How can I serve him joyfully and live abundantly when I barely have enough energy to get in the shower? When I have to pull over each time I drive to share my lunch with the grass?

Maybe my holiness is more important to Him than my happiness. Maybe His ultimate purposes for me can only be accomplished through some hardship. God speaks throughout Scripture of trials and refining His people, which makes perfect sense to me- as long as it someone other than myself.

The kicker is that my husband and I were mainly trying to be obedient to God's will for our family in choosing to try natural family planning, not necessarily hoping or planning for a baby right out of the gate. So our pregnancy seems right now to be a direct result of our surrender to Him. What should we make of that? Unavoidable discomfort is one thing, but what about discomfort you could avoid by choosing a more worldly-minded option such as birth control? I have often found myself questioning whether we made the right decision.

But then I find myself back at Luke 9:23-24. Those unavoidable- and uncomfortable- words of Jesus. And as much as I loathe the crosses of this life, I am comforted. Because when we choose to trust and obey, to lay down our own plans and open ourselves to His, we are safe. We have discovered true Life. We may feel like we are losing things we want so much to hold on to, but we are gaining lasting and eternal joy and security in the only place it can be found: in Our Lord.

What is Divine Mercy, and why do I need it?

Today is Divine Mercy Sunday, a day set apart in the liturgical year to pay special attention to and give special thanks for God's infinite mercy. I have to pause here for a moment. When I first learned of this special feast day (as they are known in the Catholic Church, though there usually is not an actual feast) I was intrigued. My first thought was, of course we followers of Christ know as a main tenet of our faith that God is merciful, becuase we know He gave His only Son over to suffer and die to redeem us from our own sin and rejection of Him. It seems like common knowledge, similar to saying the sky is blue. But then, maybe it is too common- put on the back burner of our spiritual consciousness where we don't actually reach out for it in our day-to-day struggles when we need it the most.

Fact: I sin pretty often. My response upon realizing it is a harsh self-reprimand, a good inner berating, and a general feeling of condemnation. Mentally I know God forgives me, (again with the blue sky) but I just can't seem to convince myself of it, accept the gift of His love, and keep moving forward. Now, we are told that there is no condemnation for believers in Christ (Romans 8:1) so this has to be coming from somewhere else. Do I counter these feelings with an intentional focus God's mercy towards me? No. So I decided the Divine Mercy deserved some looking into.

Divine Mercy Sunday as an official feast day started with an actual mandate Jesus Himself gave to St. Maria Faustina Kowalska in one of many apparitions she received, during which He also gave her very specific instructions on a devotional image He wanted painted (see end of post) with the words "Jesus, I Trust in You." Three versions were painted based on her description, the latest of which was presented to Pope John Paul II and I've included below.

In her diary (which was later published) Faustina records Jesus saying to her directly "Proclaim that mercy is the greatest attribute of God." When I read this, I immediately stopped to think about what I consider to be His greatest attribute. The first thing that comes to my mind is that God is Love. This is a true statement- in fact, directly out of Scripture (1 John 4:8.) My next thought is, how to pick a single aspect of the One Who is Truth, goodness, beauty and ultimately every other virtue? I guess I just have to seek to understand why God prioritizes His mercy above all other traits.

Another stumbling block is my inability to fathom the infinite. What is literally limitless, unending, unshakable mercy like? I can't even wrap my brain around it. What I can grasp is how desperately I need His mercy, especially in that awful moment when I realize my sin, and how incredible it feels when I hear God whisper to my heart that He still loves me. A LOT. I also know the value of mercy on a much smaller, but still meaningful, level when I wrong or hurt a loved one or friend and instead of treating me justly as my actions deserve, they choose instead to show me love.

So today I'm taking some extra time in my prayers to ask Him for the grace to see the implications of His endless mercy in my own life. It gives me great comfort and hope just to know that no matter how many times I will continue to screw up (and I will,) God will never hold it against me. His patience will never run out. I'll still be His Beloved, sinner though I am, because I can accept Jesus's perfect sacrifice on my behalf. I leave you with a quote from St. Faustina's Diary: Have confidence in God, for He is good and inconceivable. His mercy surpasses our understanding.

Title Origin

Braiding a literal cord of three strands (God, he and I) at our wedding ceremony.

The Patron Saint of Military Wives

It was a special blessing when I stumbled across a brief biography of St. Francesca Romana, also called Frances of Rome, on a blog I frequent. Since my faith has been shaped significantly by my Catholic upbringing and single years (my husband and I currently attend a Baptist church,) the saints are an integral part of my spiritual world.
It's helpful to have a role model, someone who has walked your path before- especially when that vocation was given by God, first to them and then to you. When I try to explain the saints to friends, the best analogy I can give is an older brother or sister, maybe a community member who you admired and trusted. Of course it's crucial to keep in mind that admirable though they may be (Francesca very much so) they were human too, and can never replace Jesus as our ultimate Confidante, Helper, Guide and Friend.
That being said, the saints may be most helpful because they are not angels. They're just like us- except the church has designated their lives as exceptionally holy, and they are dead. (To this world. It's a saintly prerequisite.). There aren't many who were married; most were either consecrated religious, and thus celibate, or were martyred while virgins. So to find one who was a wife, and of a military man at that, is exciting. And that brings us back to Francesca.
Born to a wealthy Italian family in 1384, she discovered her deep love for God as a child and by age twelve had decided to become a nun. But her parents determined that she should be married, and at age thirteen she wed Lorenzo Ponziano, commander of the papal troops of Rome and also from an aristocratic family.
Even though Lorenzo was frequently away (read: deployed) at war, their marriage is said to have been a very loving one, lasting forty years until Lorenzo's death in 1436. Lorenzo loved his wife very much and admired her purity and devotion, as well as her efforts to help those less fortunate. Francesca, though in love first and always with God, loved him deeply as well and faithfully honored and obeyed him throughout their marriage. As ardently as she desired to unite herself completely to the Lord through consecrated religious life, she was able to see and accept that His Will was for her to love and serve Lorenzo as a wife and to be a mother to their children.
During Lorenzo's absences, Francesca opened their home as a makeshift hospital for those wounded by war and distributed food to the hungry. These separations- surely as painful and difficult for her as they are for us- gave Francesca opportunities for exclusive devotion to prayer and reading as well. But when her husband was home, she patiently and obediently put her private spiritual life on hold, recognizing her married vocation as her primary duty from God.
She is quoted as saying, "Devotion in a married woman is most praiseworthy, but she must never forget that she is a housewife. Sometimes she must leave God at the altar, to serve Him in her housekeeping."
Sounds a little harsh at first, but her insight about prioritizing daily life God's way is a revelation to me. It can be all too easy to miss the Forest through the proverbial trees when it comes to seeking God's Will. Yes, I have responsibilities to my husband, and he has needs and desires that I as his wife am required by God to meet... but shouldn't my Bible reading come first? Or church obligations? Doesn't Jesus tell us that we must live Him above all others, including our families?
No, our private spiritual devotions shouldn't come first if our spouse is present and needs us. And yes, Jesus does command us to place our relationship with Him before any earthly one, even our marriages.
So how are we to balance the two?
The attribute that draws me to Francesca as a patron saint, even more than her military vocation, is her discernment of the demands of her married life as God's plan for her individual holiness. When her duty to Lorenzo summoned her away from prayer or spiritual reading, she recognized God's Voice and lovingly set aside her own desires to support him. No doubt this shaped her into the saint she would become, as she persevered in submitting her own will day by day to those of God and the man He had given her.
An often-cited episode in her life, one of many miraculous occurrences, gives a glimpse of how valuable her loving service was in God's sight:
One day while reciting the Divine Office privately, Lorenzo summoned for her five successive
times. At each interruption, Francesca patiently complied before returning to her prayers. After at last she had seen to the fifth request, she found the words of the line she had been reading written in gold. She then was told by an angel, "Thus the Lord rewards the virtue of obedience."
Her unwavering pursuit of God- or rather, her reciprocation of His unwavering pursuit of her- is also worth emulating. Though she loved Lorenzo as fully as she was capable of loving another human being, she never looked to him for satisfaction of the deepest longings of her heart, which she knew could only be met by God.
So whether our husbands are home with us, deployed or away on training, may we strive to love them by giving ourselves completely as Francesca did, while keeping a passionate desire for God always at the center of our hearts.
Her advice, given to oblates of the religious order she founded after Lorenzo's death, is fitting for all to live by: "Love one another, and be faithful unto death. Satan will assault you, as he has assaulted me; but be not afraid. You will overcome him through patience and obedience; and no trial will be too grievous, if you are united to Jesus; if you walk in His ways, He will be with you."


Saint Frances of Rome, help us to see the difference between what we want to do and what God wants us to do. Help us to discern what comes from our will and what comes from God's desire. Amen

[prayer and image are not my own]