Transitus Tiber » Converting

My Favorite Read of 2011

Kim — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 21:21:48 +0000

One of the things I love about the New Year is that the blogosphere is abuzz with everyone’s favorite books from 2011, and their recommendations for books to read in 2012.

Allow me to jump on the bandwagon.

Last year I read 49 books. Which isn’t bad, considering if you look at my “Books of 2011” page, you can totally see when the depression took over my life (hint: it was August). I read a lot of good books, but there’s one that tops them all.

The Jesuit Guide to (Almost) Everything by Fr. James Martin, S.J.

I almost didn’t finish this book because I was so depressed and this book is a bit long, and I didn’t know much about Ignatian spirituality and I am firmly monastic and St. Ignatius scares me and I actually had a Jesuit tell me to stop reading St. Ignatius’s Spiritual Exercises because I was asking WAY too many questions and we decided that it’s not in my best spiritual interest to read the Exercises right now. But, because I rarely not finish a book, I soldiered on with the Jesuit guide. I finished it, and then decided I would absolutely need to get a copy of it. And read it again (which I have).

If you’ve ever been depressed, you know the interior monologue of a depressed person usually consists of:

I’m no good.

There is nothing good about me.

Everything I do is wrong.

I am worthless.

I am unlovable.

With that in mind, I’m sure you can understand how words like this rocked my world:

“My biggest misconception was that I would have to change before approaching God. Like many beginners in the spiritual life, I felt I wasn’t worthy to approach God. … I confessed this … “What do I need to do before I can relate to God?” I asked. “Nothing,” he [Fr. Martin's spiritual director at the time] said. “God meets you where you are.” (page 81)

“In such “still small” ways as emotions, insights, memories, feelings, and desires, God speaks to us in prayer.” (page 133)

[on Ignatian contemplation] “Using my imagination wasn’t so much making things up, as it was trusting that my imagination could help to lead me to the one who created it: God.” (page 146)

And yes, perhaps I’ve heard these messages before but they never really sank in. It wasn’t until when I was so broken and open to God that they sank in. And have not removed themselves since.

Chapter Eleven, entitled “Surrendering to the Future” is all about obedience, acceptance, and suffering. God knows how deep the pain of the miscarriages are, the frustration with myself as I try and manage not one but three different “mental disorders” all while being a wife, a mom, singing in the parish choir, and just life in general. If I could quote the entire chapter, I would.

There’s something deeply Benedictine about St. Ignatius and Ignatian spirituality. Obviously, it has its differences but there is a lot of overlap and fleshing out of Benedictine spirituality. At least, that’s how I see it. It turns out there’s a reason for that:

“So in 1522, at the age of thirty-one, he made a pilgrimage to the Benedictine abbey in Montserrat, Spain, where with a dramatic gesture right out of his beloved books on chivalry, he stripped off “all his garments and gave them to a beggar.” Then, he laid his armor and sword before a statue of the Virgin Mary. (page 13)

Fr. Martin goes on to write that St. Ignatius spent a year in a small town nearby (Manresa) where he was subjected to something I’ve been subjected to myself: “a great spiritual dryness, worried obsessively about his sins, and was even tempted to commit suicide.” (ibid.)

Now, I’ve not been tempted to commit suicide anytime recently, so don’t go there. But the spiritual dryness, the obsessive worrying about his sins (aka, scruples) – been there, done that, bought the t-shirt. So, in a way, I feel like St. Ignatius “gets it” – as much as a soldier-turned-priest and founder of a religious order from the 16th century can understand a wife and mother in the 21st century. And not only does he “get it”, he let God use it and turn it into something totally snazzy.

So, after reading the Jesuit guide twice I can say that I feel like I know a little more about Ignatian spirituality, I still am firmly monastic but St. Ignatius isn’t scary at all (in fact, I feel down right chummy with him), I’m not depressed (thanks to good medicine, spiritual direction, frequenting the Sacraments, seeing a therapist, and self-care), and maybe at some point in my life I will actually read the Spiritual Exercises. In a perfect world, I would “do the Exercises” but until the Jesuits actually come to my little po-dunk town, I don’t think that will be happening any time soon. But I am asking God to arrange that, so let’s see what He does.

What the Ballet Taught Me About My Prayer Life

Kim — Wed, 21 Dec 2011 20:32:10 +0000

Degas, Ballet Rehearsal (source)

Elise and I went to the ballet recently. A quintessential “mother and daughter” activity. We went with Greg’s Mom, so it was a “grandma/daughter in law/granddaughter” activity.

The ballet was The Nutcracker, performed by a local dance company of girls (and a few guys) ages 4 to 17. It was incredible. And it held Elise’s attention for the entire two hours of performance.

At intermission, I was thinking about my prayer life. And then I started thinking about my prayer life and the ballet. Or more appropriately, how the ballet is like a prayer. Or a prayer life, if you want to get more specific.

First, it’s a dance. The ballerina playing Clara had several solo dances and many dances with other members of the cast. In both situations, Clara has to maintain her dance – she can’t do her own thing. The ballerina puts her own emphasis into the dance steps, but in the context The Nutcracker, there are certain steps that need to happen.

Prayer is like a dance because while I can and do put my emphasis into my prayers, there are certain things that need to happen. While I can pray “on the fly”, I usually need a quiet place to sit and not be distracted. I need a place that is quiet so I can hear God. Sometimes I am dancing a solo, but I need to wait for God to join me in the dance, or move back and let Him dance His own solo.

Second, you need guidance. In the form of a spiritual director, a regular Confessor, a prayerbook, a mentor – someone or something. Can you learn ballet and prayer on your own? Sure. Can you work out some roadblocks to both dance and prayer with someone who has been there, done that – and therefore be a better dancer or experience deeper prayer? Absolutely.

Third, it’s learned. Prayer of course, is a conversation with God. But many times, my conversation has been one-sided. It’s only been recently that I’ve come to realize that I really need to shut up and let God do His thing. Furthermore, by my example of praying, I’m teaching both Elise and Benedict how to pray. They know that prayer is “talking to God” but seeing Mama and Daddy do it really shows them what we mean.

Fourth, it’s a way of life. After the ballet was over, I saw some of the dancers with their families. Even though they weren’t on stage and dancing, how the dancers carried themselves was fascinating. They walked and moved so gracefully, as if they were on stage. They weren’t tromping around like moose or slouching – they know that in order to maintain their grace and fluidity, they need to stay on top of their bodies. And, since many of the girls have been dancing from a young age, perhaps it’s natural for them to move so gracefully.

Prayer is also a way of life. Everything can be brought to God, and God sees everything. Therefore, it’s hard (for me) to “compartmentalize” – to pray and then go off and be crude or “a certain way” around certain people. It’s easier to just be myself, regardless of who is around me. I can do my best to keep my eyes on God, even in the midst of diapers and laundry and the same old tasks that I do. Finding God in my life takes practice, but it’s slowly becoming habitual.

Fifth, it takes discipline. Discipline to show up at every ballet class, at every rehearsal, to dance for two hours in front of a bunch of people, to stand on your tipetoes and move gracefully, to express a variety of emotions and a complete story through your body. It also takes discipline to show up for prayer when you’re tired, sick, depressed, anxious, angry, bored, or whatever. It takes discipline to show up for prayer when it feels as if God is on vacation, when you’d rather to ANYTHING but crack open your breviary, or when you’re feeling doubtful.

~ ~ ~
This week is one of those weeks where I need to be carried by God, just as the Nutcracker Prince carried Clara after she leaped into his arms. Although the Nutcracker Prince looked a little unsure as Clara was beginning her dance/jump, she went forth with gusto and joy, trusting her dance partner would be there to catch her. He was, and he did. If a 13 year old dancer can trust someone her age to catch her in all his humanity; surely I can trust the God of All to catch me. After all, there is no uncertainty from God.

Rethinking Quiet Time

Kim — Thu, 08 Dec 2011 20:47:35 +0000

The other day, I had an epiphany. I’m sure I’m the last person on the planet to figure this out, but at least I figured it out.

My problem was a simple one: why, despite having quiet time for the kids and myself; do I feel so burned out by the end of the day?

Clearly, I had some medical things factoring into that, but even with the depression and panic under control, I still felt burned out. I read a very, very good book a few months ago: The Jesuit Guide to (Almost) Everything by Fr. James Martin (and I plan on devoting an entire post in the future to this book, it’s that good). In it, Fr. Martin talks about St. Ignatius’s Examen. If you don’t know about the Examen, here’s a page talking about it.

The Examen really, REALLY speaks to me, on a variety of levels. I had attempted to do it at least once a day, until Fr. Anonymous asked me to focus on something else for the time being.

At any rate, in the Examen I reviewed my day in detail, and noticed something about my quiet time. The kids were asleep (or quietly playing if not asleep), and what was I doing? Anything but quiet time. Sure, I was quiet, but I was busy – very busy.

The epiphany that I came to is simple: make MY quiet time restful, just like the naps or quiet playing is for the kids. This means not giving into the temptation to get everything done that I can, or idling surfing the Internet, or whatever. Sure, things that absolutely need to get done get done – like diaper laundry. But that’s pretty much it. Everything else waits.

I use this time to pray, as best I can. I make myself sit down, realize God’s presence, and pray. I also do my lectio divina at this time, on the daily Mass readings.

Afterwards, I do things that are truly refreshing to me: reading, drinking a bunch of tea, listen to music, writing, that sort of thing. And when the kids are up from their nap or finished playing, we’re all refreshed and ready to go.

We aren’t too strict on Quiet Time is exactly at a certain time, rather we “peg” it to Greg’s lunchtime. The kids know that when Daddy goes back to work, it’s Quiet Time. Sometimes this is problematic when Daddy has a late lunch, but those days are few and far between. The important thing is that Quiet Time happens, and happens after lunch.

I really look forward to Quiet Time now, knowing that I will be able to refresh my soul and my mind and my body, and take a break from “doing stuff”. Relaxation has been hard for me to do, simply because I have been so anxious for so long, that “doing stuff” helps soothe that anxiety. But now that things are getting sorted out, I am beginning to savor relaxing and just resting. It’s something I definitely need and only now have really been working on making sure I get.

The Great ‘Stuff’ Purge

Kim — Mon, 24 Oct 2011 14:58:00 +0000

Greg and I have spent the last couple of weeks purging like we’ve never purged before. Yesterday we hauled the fruits of our purge to the local Goodwill – literally about half of our possessions. That’s the brunt of it, there are still a few small bags left to purge; but the most of it is done.

We really were able to purge efficiently due to the amount of space we have and a system we came up with. Everything that needed to be sorted through was accumulated in one area. We had a designated trash area and a designated donate pile. It became a matter of sorting.

Things we use regularly were brought into the living area and put away immediately. If there was no spot for it, we had to re-evaluate if we really needed it, or what could we get rid of so that we had room.

Things we use semi-regularly (off-season clothes, for example) were put into short term storage.

Things we think we may need again in the future (such as baby clothes) were put into long term storage.

The bulk of everything else went to Goodwill if it was in good enough shape, or to the dump if it was trash or not in good shape. The overriding thought is if it can’t be stored, do we really need it?

I can’t tell you how freeing this has been. I can tell you to the exact spot where EVERYTHING in this house is. We don’t waste time looking for things and we don’t feel so “hemmed in” by so much stuff. Our biggest problem was that we never had enough room (or time) to do a major, major purge; so in this purge we found things from our college years (or older) – stuff that had followed us around that we never got rid of.

We definitely did now.

Even Elise has been involved, helping us go through things like her eleven million pairs of shoes and nine trillion stuffed animals to “give to the kids who don’t have any”. We want to teach her to give to those less fortunate, that part of our duties as Christians is to help those in need. That there’s more to life than “stuff”. She may not have a steady income to give out of, but she has definitely given a lot of her stuff away. Thanks be to God she is grasping these lessons in a very cute three-year-old way, and it’s showing.

Our goal is to finish organizing the basement by the end of this week. We’re about 80% done, so it should fall together nicely. The kids have plenty of room to play down here, and when it’s all organized; they will have that much more room.

Deo gratias!

When life comes to a screeching halt

Kim — Thu, 02 Jun 2011 21:34:26 +0000

After writing this post, everything was great. Well, as great as they could be. Greg and I made the decision to not have a follow-up ultrasound, based on my physical recovery. If you know the details of our first loss, recovery physically was pretty much identical to that. And if you don’t, let me assure it was very quick, all things considered.

The difference between the first loss and the second is that this time around, I have had virtually no room for psychological grieving. With our first loss, I was in college, newly married; and the biggest thing to do was Go To Class, Do Homework, Cry. My professors were bending over backwards – moving deadlines, not calling on me as much in class until I got myself together. Children – especially two toddlers – don’t exactly do that. I figured I could give myself one day to entirely fall apart – which I did, with Greg’s help. And after that, I could proceed forward and go from there. It wasn’t that easy. My post on being open to life mentions a crack in the facade of “oh, I’m just fine!”. Tuesday and especially yesterday, everything shattered. I felt on the verge of a spiritual collapse.

Thanks be to God, the parish has very holy and compassionate priests. I placed a call to one, and less than an hour later (and babies with Greg); was able to have a long conversation (which, I’m afraid; will most likely spawn more conversations) in order to help me deal with everything, mainly psychologically and spiritually. Additionally, this very observant priest realized that I have been lugging around some serious baggage, which was oh so amazingly removed in the Sacrament of Confession. I think it was probably the best Confession I’ve ever had, not because of anything of the priest or me; but simply through the graces received. Much like going through the actual miscarriage, the grace is practically tangible.

I don’t particularly know where I’m at right now. Physically, I know; and it’s still terrifying to me. Psychologically, I know I have plenty more crying to do, more wanking to God to do, and more grieving to do. Spiritually, that’s anyone’s guess. Okay, I’m not that bad, but I’m still having issues with scruples and a variety of other things (which is why I think I need more conversations with someone who gets it).

Please keep praying for me, I know I need it.

On being open to life

Kim — Tue, 24 May 2011 21:23:26 +0000

Thank you all for your prayers. We are doing “okay” over here. Yesterday was a particularly hard day for me, because I think things became more real. Not as if I was living in denial but I think the realization that “oh, we lost the baby. We’re not pregnant.” made it through to every part of my brain. Rough, but not too surprising.

As I told Fr. H, the Oblate director; these are the Crosses that make us holy. Not too long before we lost our little one, I was thinking about how the Good Lord always sends us Crosses, usually when we least expect it. And how sometimes He asks us for things, for us to give Him something. Not because He’s ‘sick and twisted’ but simply because He loves us. One week ago today, He came very near to us and asked us not for our baby, but simply to trust Him. To trust Him with everything we have, every last fiber of our body, everything. Hold nothing back. God can never be outdone in generosity. We gave Him our trust, He called our baby to Him, and in return has given us so much grace, consolation in His presence, a deeper intimacy with His Mother (fiat!), and so much more.

So many people are surprised (why? why?) when they find out we intend on having more kids. We believe in a God of Love, not a God of Hate. God didn’t take our baby to punish us, or send us some twisted lesson. Who knows why He wanted our baby. All that trust He wanted from us last week, it continues. There’s a possibility I could miscarry again. My OB and I have a plan in order to do everything we can do to prevent that. But, God trumps science. God can take the baby again, despite our best efforts.

There’s a fundamental point to all this, which I’m finally getting to. Love hurts. True love demands sacrifice, a giving of your very self until it hurts. Sure, we could close ourselves to life and therefore prevent another miscarriage. But, in being open to life – regardless of how long that life is in my womb or not – we are truly loving our kids, each other, and God.

We will hold nothing back.

Why would we put ourselves in such a vulnerable position? We trust God to grant us the children He has known since the beginning of time for us to have. We trust Him to call our children’s names when He sees fit, as opposed to when we see fit. We open ourselves to the pain of miscarriages, the discomforts of pregnancy, childbirth and the sheer task of raising kids because we trust God that somehow, someway; His plan is truly for the best.

That is why we continue to be open to life.

That is why we do what we do, act how we act, think how we think, and speak how we speak. Our goal is to love as best we can, following the example given to us by our Divine Savior. Look at the Crucifix. There’s Love. That is Who we seek to imitate, however imperfectly we do so.

God love you all and reward you for your charity in praying for us.

The trenches of motherhood

Kim — Sat, 19 Mar 2011 22:33:44 +0000

I woke up Thursday (the day, the washer, died! Sing it with me!) and had no idea what day it was. At first, I thought it was Rosary Group day, then Sunday, then realized it was Thursday. It was a little disconcerting to experience that again – I had experienced enough of it in college – and made me wonder why that confusion came to me again.

Last week was pretty rocky. Everyone had colds. Everyone was cranky. Benedict and Greg had their birthdays. We couldn’t find the gluten-free cake mix we wanted to make Benedict a cake (bad mother alert: he had no cake on his birthday). Benedict is teething, Elise is having wicked growing pains, and let’s just not talk about the washer.

(Except that this is the third time in two blog posts I’ve talked about it, so clearly it is a BIG DEAL TO ME).

I’ve also had horrible insomnia and freaky dreams: last night I dreamt that someone was trying to kidnap Benedict. The night before that I dreamt that I forgot to attend THE CLASS I NEEDED to graduate University … all semester long. And then tried to plead with the professor to cut me some slack.

My nights are not restful. My days are draining. There is little rest for the weary.

But …. it’s not the end of the world. Weeks like last week, where it seems like everything is out of control don’t happen very often around here. Weeks like last week are GIGANTIC signposts for me that all say the same thing: you can’t do this alone. It’s all about relying on God. I don’t know how I made it through the bulk of last week other than those good old MamaPrayers: “Dear God, help me through this.” “Dear God, what is going on?” “Dear God, I trust You.”

And while the insomnia and weird-o dreams are still chugging along, eventually they’ll end. And so will this delightful, fun, sometimes chaotic time of two toddlers. The kids will master the potty, not smacking someone, not (as much) whining. Eventually, they’ll figure out manners at the table and actually cook at some point. Later on, they’ll do Algebra and Trig, learn to drive, learn to live … as an adult.

So, the trenches of motherhood, as deep and at times dark as they seem; are passing by. Sometimes, after Benedict has had a random spit-up for the billionth time that day or I’ve been treated to an epic tantrum; I feel ready to get past the trenches. But then, I stop. And I look at who I have. Who call me “Mama”. Who run to me for cuddles, who look to me to kiss away the boo-boos. Who help them navigate this big old world they’ll be sent off into soon enough.

The trenches of motherhood are not easy. They’re downright hard. Sometimes it seems impossible. But it is possible, it so is. All it takes are two things: total reliance on God and total gift of self. Two things that can take a lifetime to learn. Two things that are so worth it to do, and two kids (and many more, God-willing) who are absolutely worth every last trench I ever have to experience.

Lent 2011

Kim — Wed, 09 Mar 2011 18:15:07 +0000

Our plans:

Lent Chain: I cut 40 strips of paper, and wrote two ideas on each strip. One hard idea (for Greg and me) and an easy one (for Elise).
(since I hung it up in the kitchen, both kids love looking at it while we eat ) It also doubles as a countdown, for Elise to grasp what “40 days” looks like.
Alms Jar: a plastic jar with a lid from the dollar store and dollar store stickers. Elise can earn money to put in the Alms Jar, we can put spare change in, that sort of thing. During Easter we’ll put the change in the offering basket (or maybe just drop it off at the parish office).
I’m giving up Amazon.
We’re also undergoing the 40 Bags in 40 Days challenge. Since we should be moving (please, God!) sometime in May; we figured it would be wise to purge during Lent and donate as much as we can to the thrift store, the crisis pregnancy centers, and so on.

I think that’s our Lenten program. I don’t know what Greg is giving up. He had several ideas, but nothing that really resonated with him.

+ + +

Small prayer request: Benedict is having some massive teething/cold issues. I think he has both, as he’s drooling and chewing on everything AND has a bad cough. No fevers though, but we’ve been giving him a lot of teething tablets and trying to keep his little nose unplugged.

Elise recovered from her fever in record speed and has no other symptoms. Thanks be to God!

My (early) Blogoversary

Kim — Thu, 03 Mar 2011 15:41:34 +0000

Not long after my 24th birthday, I established this blog. I’ve been writing online my life for a while … since at least 1999. Most of the “old days” are defunkt or backed up to my hard drive. This particular blog wasn’t intended to be a standalone blog, but rather a blog for sorting out what was going on as I got closer to my reception in the Catholic Church. Over time, it’s become what I wanted from it and more. It’s been quite theraputic for me, over the last five years; writing about everything (well, almost everything).

And in the last five years, I’ve only had like, one or two anti-Catholic comments. Hurray for flying under the radar!

So now, not long after my 29th birthday; I reflect on where I’ve come, which has been recorded here. My Catholic Self is technically kindergarten aged. My blog is five years old (which is what, geriatric in Internet years?) and I have no real plans on stopping it any time soon. Granted, I may not update it all that regularly (;)), but it still happens. Life happens, and I try my best to provide you all with a realistic view of what’s going on. It’s not all sunshine and unicorns, but I’ve always made it through; with the help of God’s grace.

Most blogs do a giveaway or whatnot for blogoversaries … I have nothing to give you, dear readers; except a spiritual bouquet. Thank you for keeping up with me, for commenting, for listening.

A Spiritual Bouquet for my Dear Readers:

For your intentions, I will offer:

5 Rosaries

5 Holy Communions

5 Acts of Charity

5 Days of Fasting

5 Our Fathers

Amen!

P.S: my actual blogoversary is tomorrow; but we’re working on getting Greg into see The Neurosurgeon as he needs his shunt adjusted again.

New Year’s Goals

Kim — Tue, 04 Jan 2011 15:26:34 +0000

A blessed 2011 to all!

Each year I try to make resolutions, goals, ideals; whatever – and they always seem to fall flat. This year, I’d like to take another crack at it. I’d like to change things, though. I have some goals in mind, but they all can be summed up as such:

JOY and GENTLENESS.

While in prayerful consideration of what hampers my journey to God, it all comes back to those. I have a melancholic temperament – I perch on the edge of despair most of my days. I also am prone to depression, which can create a cycle of depression-fed despair and despair-fed depression. This isn’t to say that a melancholic temperament is a ‘broken’ one, it has its strengths – but rather, I need to make sure I am not despairing. Even melancholics can (and should!) be joyful.

The Temperament God Gave You is the best book I’ve read so far on temperament and understanding yours.

Cultivating joy, for me; includes staying close to the Sacraments, being grateful, and slowing down. It all starts with asking the Holy Spirit for His help.

Gentleness is also needed in my life. I feel like I have unintentionally grown a hard ‘shell’ through the years (mainly in college and on the oilfields). I am not gentle with myself and often times, I am not gentle with others. Everything I do or say can have an impact on the kids, and I don’t want them turning out harsh and cynical. I spent most of Advent battling cynicism, it was not a fun time.

Just like joy, I need to start with asking the Holy Spirit for His help in cultivating gentleness. Being close to the Sacraments, working on not being as prideful, and using a calm voice when I’m really frustrated/upset/etc leave me open to Him.

Pray for me, I know I’m going to need all the help I can get.