Heaven. Not Harvard...Redux

Have you heard about the black mass at Harvard occurring tonight?  Here is Harvard’s statement and another article of interest. If you want to read more, just Google it.  It’s everywhere.

Of all the discussions and hullabaloo this is causing, two things stand at the forefront of my mind about this:

1.     1. Should we be surprised?

2.     2. It is theologically interesting that it is a black MASS, not a black communion service, or a black altar call, or a black testimony, or a black anything else.

First, when babies are torn from their mothers’ wombs by the thousands on a daily basis sacrificed on the altar of Moloch, when you can’t walk through a shopping mall without being visually assaulted by giant soft porn advertisements, when our public high schools display the sexually explicit Two Boys Kissing as legitimate literature appropriate for 14 year old reading lists, how can we be surprised by a black mass at one of our most prestigious institutions of higher learning?  

These institutions have been shaping the minds of the next generation for a long time.  Without solid formation and catechesis, and often even with one, our children are being led like lambs to the slaughter by the relativism being preached as gospel at almost all colleges and universities; relativism like a black mass being about freedom of speech and assembly.  Would a public Koran burning or an on campus Klan meeting receive the same response?

Don’t get me wrong.  I am proud of the students, like Matthew Menendez, who have raised protest on campus and am relieved the Archdiocese of Boston has taken a vocal and strong stand on the issue.   But it’s still not a shock.

Second, an authentic satanic black mass requires a consecrated Host – the Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity of our Lord Jesus Christ housed in what used to be bread but is now the Living Bread come down from Heaven.  No grape juice need apply.  This is Satan’s ultimate earthly glory, and he demands a Spotless Host.  Even the Father of Lies knows the Truth about the Holy Eucharist.  You would think this would at least cause some to pause and reflect, and please God, lead some toward conversion.  God makes all things new and brings good from evil, even something as evil as a black Mass.

Let us remember to pray for those participating or condoning this grave evil tonight.

(Update: It has been cancelled! First reported moved off campus, now postponed indefinitely. God is good and prayer works, people!)

Excited for Lent?! Helpful Resources Listed

I'm unusually excited for Lent this year, but I also know I need some help staying focused for 40 Days on anything, not the least of which is the death and resurrection of our Lord.  Here are a few of the free online tools available that might help you and your family:

Holy Heroes (www.holyheroes.net): Sign up and receive free weekly Mass videos, audio stories and music, printable activities and much more. My kids really enjoy the weekly Mass videos as a way to prepare for the Gospel reading. And today, we started the Lenten Adventure!

Lentsanity App: From FOCUS (The Fellowship of Catholic University Students), we can get a sound "Daily Dose" and full-length articles about different aspects of Lent, as well as "Meat Police Notifications."  You can find out more at focus.org/blog or by looking for the Lentsanity App in your App Store.

Pausing to Pray: Lenten Reflections for Busy People: Use this signup link from Lighthouse Catholic Media for a daily reflection delivered to your mailbox. 

This year, journey through Lent with Fr. Robert Barron, who sends daily Lenten reflections right to your inbox.  Sign up at http://www.lentreflections.com/.

Please feel free to list resources you find helpful in the comments!

Recommended Reading: 40 Bags in 40 Days 2014 Decluttering Challenge

Are you guys ready?  Ready for what, you ask?  Ready to completely change your life. Ready to declutter and simplify your life. Ready to get rid of emotional clutter. Ready to figure out how to get a handle on all of the things holding us back.

 

Read more about this great idea for Lent at: http://www.whitehouseblackshutters.com/40-bags-in-40-days-2014/.

Offering It Up

Okay, so the whole “the big things ARE the little things” was cute.  Then I went into day four of phenomenal overnight diaper fail.  I will spare you the details, but suffice it to say I needed scissors on two occasions to prevent an E.Coli infection of the five year old’s eye.

And today, day four, the washing machine broke.  Really?  Really.

On extra gross poop days, I bless the inventors of the washing machine.  It’s a controversial topic, as told on Wikipedia, as to who the sole inventor of the modern machine is… but I am grateful to all the people who worked to develop it to its current form.  I would be spending pretty much every day at the creek and would never get the butter churned or the clothes mended or floor swept or the meat smoked if I did not have a washing machine.

So today, when I heard it stop in the middle of the cycle, and smelled a burnt rubber odor like that of a broken vacuum belt, I was dejected.

I have a hard time remembering to offer up my little daily inconveniences much less major sufferings.  But I always feel better when I do.

And I know God is outside of time, so if I remember to offer it up later, it still counts some.

But one would think that the internal angry dialogue during the clean up or at the stink of burnt rubber would take away a little from the leftover offer later.

I’m not sure I ever really understood the phrase, “Offer it up.”  I’d hear people say it when I was a child and it meant little to me.  I WANTED to offer “it” up, but wasn’t really sure how.  Once in a while, my mom would say, “Offer it up for the souls in purgatory.”  This made some more sense, but required a deeper theological understanding of which I was probably incapable at the time.  It did instill in me a remembrance for the Holy Souls that I still carry, and for which I am grateful.  But “offer it up” was still a bit of an enigma.

Even as an adult, it’s an uncertain exercise for me.  What I often end up doing is thinking of someone in my life who is struggling or has recently requested prayers and say a prayer that I am offering up whatever thing is going on at the moment (or in the recent past).  I am not certain this is right, but it can’t be too wrong.

And when I tell my kids to offer up some small or large suffering, they will think of an intention or someone for whom we’ve recently been praying and let me know.  It warms this mother’s heart when they think to do that.  And I have a feeling their heartfelt offer, even in the midst of splinter removal or eye drops, fills Heaven with a special kind of joy only the innocence of child’s prayer can unfurl.

I’d LOVE to hear how others interpret offering it up.  Please comment!

I get my news from Facebook (and I’m not ashamed to admit it)

My professional background was in politics, where cable news was on around the clock, my internet homepage was a news site, daily digests from a dozen news sources were in my inbox and I subscribed to a newspaper and news magazines at home.  What I wouldn’t give to have some of that time back; that time I spent absorbing and analyzing every kernel of news I could find.  As I transitioned out of that work into being home with my babies full time, I sometimes attacked celebrity “news” with the same level of scrutiny.  I was a bit of an expert on Tom & Katie and an early member of the “Save Katie” movement.  I am relieved she saved herself, but sorry I spent so much time following both stories.

Now with a houseful of Smithlets, the news is never on.  I don’t want them watching even the commercials, let alone the news content.   And when they’re in bed and I can relax, the news isn’t what I want to watch with my husband and a glass of red.

Admittedly, having Facebook on my iPhone is a bit of a distraction, especially on my tired days.  I’ve considered giving it up, but in many ways, it really is a lifeline for an extrovert like me who mostly interacts with only my kids.  I realized this morning that without it, I would have no idea about what is happening in the world.  Yesterday alone, it saved me 3 hours of watching the US-Canada Women’s hockey game on our DVR.  Thank you Facebook friends who posted spoilers, some of them expletives, as it happened on your TVs. Downside: I didn’t get my laundry folded.

Apparently, only on Facebook can we find out that there is massive suppression  and government-inflicted violence going on this very second in Venezuela.  No major news outlet is covering the story, and with their domestic news sources all owned by the government, only 21^st century information systems, like facebook and twitter, are giving that story any coverage. 

In a nod to Facebook’s reach, a video is circulating called, “I am a Ukrainian. This needs to go viral.”  Were it not for Facebook, I wouldn’t know either of these stories, and many others, existed.   

Having smart friends with divergent worldviews on Facebook, I can usually get a pretty good idea of what's going on from what is posted and who is posting it.  I can pretty quickly determine the “slant” a story has and if I am interested enough, go to a trusted news source for more information.  From there, I can think, act or pray.  

So, while I need to be diligent about when and how much time I spend scrolling my newsfeed, for news-junkies-turned-mommies, Facebook is about the best and most efficient news source around.  Plus, it’s peppered with funny memes, posts from other mamas and pictures of my friends’ kids, none of which I would enjoy and appreciate within the walls of our little brick box. 

**An interesting thing about Ukraine is that everyone I know that has posted on it sides with the protesters, despite those friends holding a wide range of political views.  I'm sure solutions differ broadly, but everyone seems to grasp the magnitude of the situation.  If there is a counterpoint position, I am curious to read it and welcome you to post it in the comments.  My Ukrainian ancestors were contemporaries of Katherine the Great and, thank God, left before their town was wiped out by Bolsheviks.  I know very little about the last 130 years there, though I wouldn’t be surprised if that history plays a part in current events.

The Big Things

It seems like a lot of energy is focused on paying attention to the little things.  Parenting blogs, self-help books, Facebook memes – they remind us life is lived through the little things.  I agree.  But the little things are often BIG!

Last week, I had one of those “big things” moments when ordering diapers for my five year old daughter who has global disabilities (I’ve written a little about her here and here).  First, I have to give a shout out to the Tranquility company.  When you have a growing child who has no interest in toilet training, it is really hard to find products that fit everywhere.  Once they grow out of size 6, Pampers makes a 7 – only available online.  But the next jump is pretty much to adult diapers.  You can cinch down the waist, but the leg holes are still way too big.  Tranquility filled the void with a Youth Extra Small size.  But there are sometimes overnight leaks and escapes; after all, diapers are for temporary storage and collection.  A twelve-hour sleep can get messy… and gross… and even disgusting. 

I learned early on to keep a smile on my face when cleaning up and making the change.  My daughter is one of the most sympathetic children I know.  If someone else cries, she is right there crying at his side.  So if I was visibly grossed out, she knew, and would get upset.  On particularly messy days, I call my friend and co-blogger, Holly, who helps me laugh through it.

But last week, when ordering the usual, something caught my eye.  I usually ignore Amazon suggestions like “buy this too and pay this much”.  But I am so glad I didn’t!  I discovered overnights!  I was inordinately excited.  I texted my husband and sent him the link.  I told Holly about them.  “These will change my life!” I exclaimed.

It may seem mundane, but it’s awesome.  Like the first time my daughter said, “Thank you.”  I had given her a snack at the table and she spontaneously said it.  It wasn’t the words; it was the multi-step process.  I gave her something she wanted, she was grateful for that, and she wanted to let me know she was grateful.  It was a “big thing”.  Huge even.

So when folks tell you it’s about the little things, know they are really the big things.  Getting inordinately excited about overnight diapers, something hilarious the three year old said at the dinner table, finding that shoe that has been lost for two weeks – these are big moments! Let them be big things and increase your joy; because who doesn’t need more of that?

(I don’t plan on making all my posts about life with special needs, but this is turning into a nice outlet for me!)

Murphy State of the Union Address

As Mommy of this family, I am happy to say that great strides have been made in this wonderful family of ours.  In the past year, chores are being done with a bit less whining (including me).  Routines have been established.  Tables are getting set.  Bathrooms are getting clean.  But more can be done.  Rooms need to remain straight.  Socks need to not be balled up in the hamper.  When something is taken out, it needs to be put away.  (Put where??  Away, I say!  Away!) 

My fellow Murphys, I am also proud to say that we have turned lemons to lemonade.  In the fall of 2012, we lost two great trees to a powerful storm.  I can stand before you today and announce that we were recently able to purchase a wood stove.  The many years that those trees stood as sentinels on our property will be used to heat our house.  Their memory will live on for many days into the future.  Each morning that we wake up to a warm house, each day that it is frigid out, but toasty inside, each time that we receive our heating bill, we will remember that without their sacrifice we would be a poorer family.

 

Next, I have appointed Daddy as Discipline Czar.  He will be forming a committee to look into the issue of discipline within our family.  Topics that he will consider include: is the discipline meted out fairly and universally?  Are the consequences appropriate for the offense?  Are the punishments too harsh or too lenient?  Is a good dose of mercy being applied?

Looking toward the future, I call upon my fellow Murphys to reach higher -- be kinder, share more, yell less.  Say your prayers, kiss your parents.  On my end, I can promise you, that I will provide yummy dinners that taste like bubble gum, to have the laundry folded and put in your drawers before you even know they're missing, that I will only ever speak in a sweet voice, that I will always say 'yes' to reasonable requests, that I will let you play on the computer and watch TV in as much as it is good for you.  I will provide you with free health care, free housing, free food, free transportation and free clothing.  What more could a member of this great family ask for?

In closing, I am proud to be your Mother.  I am proud to have you as my children.  May God bless each of you, and may God bless America.

Motherhood Is a Calling (And Where Your Children Rank)

 

A few years ago, when I just had four children and when the oldest was still three, I loaded them all up to go on a walk. After the final sippy cup had found a place and we were ready to go, my two-year-old turned to me and said, “Wow! You have your hands full!”
She could have just as well said, “Don’t you know what causes that?” or “Are they all yours?!”
Everywhere you go, people want to talk about your children. Why you shouldn’t have had them, how you could have prevented them, and why they would never do what you have done. They want to make sure you know that you won’t be smiling anymore when they are teenagers. All this at the grocery store, in line, while your children listen.

A Rock-Bottom Job?

The truth is that years ago, before this generation of mothers was even born, our society decided where children rank in the list of important things. When abortion was legalized, we wrote it into law.
Children rank way below college. Below world travel for sure. Below the ability to go out at night at your leisure. Below honing your body at the gym. Below any job you may have or hope to get. In fact, children rate below your desire to sit around and pick your toes, if that is what you want to do. Below everything. Children are the last thing you should ever spend your time doing.
If you grew up in this culture, it is very hard to get a biblical perspective on motherhood, to think like a free Christian woman about your life, your children. How much have we listened to partial truths and half lies? Do we believe that we want children because there is some biological urge, or the phantom “baby itch”? Are we really in this because of cute little clothes and photo opportunities? Is motherhood a rock-bottom job for those who can’t do more, or those who are satisfied with drudgery? If so, what were we thinking?

It's Not a Hobby

Motherhood is not a hobby, it is a calling. You do not collect children because you find them cuter than stamps. It is not something to do if you can squeeze the time in. It is what God gave you time for.
Christian mothers carry their children in hostile territory. When you are in public with them, you are standing with, and defending, the objects of cultural dislike. You are publicly testifying that you value what God values, and that you refuse to value what the world values. You stand with the defenseless and in front of the needy. You represent everything that our culture hates, because you represent laying down your life for another—and laying down your life for another represents the gospel.
Our culture is simply afraid of death. Laying down your own life, in any way, is terrifying. Strangely, it is that fear that drives the abortion industry: fear that your dreams will die, that your future will die, that your freedom will die—and trying to escape that death by running into the arms of death.

Run to the Cross

But a Christian should have a different paradigm. We should run to to the cross. To death. So lay down your hopes. Lay down your future. Lay down your petty annoyances. Lay down your desire to be recognized. Lay down your fussiness at your children. Lay down your perfectly clean house. Lay down your grievances about the life you are living. Lay down the imaginary life you could have had by yourself. Let it go.
Death to yourself is not the end of the story. We, of all people, ought to know what follows death. The Christian life is resurrection life, life that cannot be contained by death, the kind of life that is only possible when you have been to the cross and back.
The Bible is clear about the value of children. Jesus loved them, and we are commanded to love them, to bring them up in the nurture of the Lord. We are to imitate God and take pleasure in our children.

The Question Is How

The question here is not whether you are representing the gospel, it is how you are representing it. Have you given your life to your children resentfully? Do you tally every thing you do for them like a loan shark tallies debts? Or do you give them life the way God gave it to us—freely?
It isn’t enough to pretend. You might fool a few people. That person in line at the store might believe you when you plaster on a fake smile, but your children won’t. They know exactly where they stand with you. They know the things that you rate above them. They know everything you resent and hold against them. They know that you faked a cheerful answer to that lady, only to whisper threats or bark at them in the car.
Children know the difference between a mother who is saving face to a stranger and a mother who defends their life and their worth with her smile, her love, and her absolute loyalty.

Hands Full of Good Things

When my little girl told me, “Your hands are full!” I was so thankful that she already knew what my answer would be. It was the same one that I always gave: “Yes they are—full of good things!”
Live the gospel in the things that no one sees. Sacrifice for your children in places that only they will know about. Put their value ahead of yours. Grow them up in the clean air of gospel living. Your testimony to the gospel in the little details of your life is more valuable to them than you can imagine. If you tell them the gospel, but live to yourself, they will never believe it. Give your life for theirs every day, joyfully. Lay down pettiness. Lay down fussiness. Lay down resentment about the dishes, about the laundry, about how no one knows how hard you work.
Stop clinging to yourself and cling to the cross. There is more joy and more life and more laughter on the other side of death than you can possibly carry alone.

(Reposted with author's permission.  Originally posted at www.desiringGod.org on July 14, 2011.)

Financial Mismanagement for Beginners

I wanted to take this opportunity to provide our readers with a few pointers on how to avoid some uncomfortable financial situations in the new year.  Perhaps you can learn from my mistakes, whereas I cannot.  

Point one:  When you or your hubby run out of checks, order more.  I would refrain from just generally looking around the house for random, unused checkbooks.  Sometimes, there is no money in that account.  Finding two “current-looking” checkbooks does not qualify as a “score”.  Nor does it mean that the account is active.  Exercising caution in this situation will prevent mean looks from the cleaning lady who may be eyeing up your wedding ring as collateral.

Point two:  When the bank notifies you that your debit card may be compromised, take them at their word.  They do this for a living, whereas you (presumably) do not (and if so, why are you reading this post???).  Heed their advice.  Bad things happen to good people when you decline the bank’s efforts to send you a new card immediately in the mail.  They may cut off the card “for your own good” and send you a new one anyway when you realize it’s cut off.  Typically awareness of the non-working card comes to pass at rather, shall we say, uncomfortable times.

Point three:  Utility companies mean business.  Forgetting to pay one’s electric or gas bill can rapidly turn into a cold and dark situation that many people find humorless.   And the people you deal with are generally very busy, keeping up with all the other deadbeats.  Everyone has an excuse, and I have mine.  It is simply that I prefer to bake cookies rather than to keep on top of outstanding bills.  Sadly, Dominion Virginia Power does not accept chocolate chip cookies as payment or for bribes.  Seriously, it would be easier for me to send a care package of cookies via the USPS than to go online and pay my monthly bill.    

Point four:  This is key—make sure your hubby, friends, business associates, and ladies at the grocery store know of your weaknesses in this area.  Invite them to laugh at you and/or take over your finances.  When these crisis-ish situations occur, it is best to admit defeat early and often.    And pay cash whenever possible.  People like cash.  That is all. 

Marching at Home

Today was the 41st annual March for Life.  I've been marching almost every year since I was twelve.  I'd wake up early with my food all packed and get bundled up to brave D.C. in January, get on the bus, and be a part of something larger than Life.  This year, I didn't make it.  And I live about fifteen miles away now.

I was lamenting this fact as I shoveled my driveway while minding my four kids, seven and under, feeling a little guilty for not getting up the gumption to bundle us up and pack for a day of camaraderie with others who think we shouldn't pit pregnant women against the children they carry.  In my seventh month of pregnancy*, I considered taking them all into D.C. and braving the arctic freeze to be a witness to the necessity of ending the scourge of abortion in this country.

Then my five year old started to cry, waking me from my piteous guilt.  We'd been outside for ten, maybe fifteen minutes... after spending an hour getting dressed for the single digit weather.  But my five year old is not a typical five year old.  She is mentally retarded (Gasp!  I'll blog on that semantic dance another day) and has a host of other associated special needs including the inability to efficiently regulate her own body temperature.  She hates extremes and prefers climate controlled environments.  But she has also been stuck in the house for three weeks because of another medical condition and was so excited when everyone was getting dressed to get out.  So I included her.

Where was I? Oh, right, feeling guilty and she started to cry.  She held her red cold hands out to me as tears started streaming down her red cheeks.  She's a sensory seeker and hates to have her hands covered, therefore mittens or gloves had already been rejected.  I thought maybe they would remedy the situation now that she felt the natural consequences of refusing mittens.  But she refused them once again.  I took her inside, undressed her, and set her up in a safe place.  She was so happy.  She doesn't say much but she can say, "Thank you, Mommy" in her own way, which she did, repeatedly.  I went back out to finish shoveling and wrangle the troops to come inside.  It wasn't that hard.  It was darn cold out there.

But as I was pushing the snow to the edge of the driveway, I realized something.  My March for Life is here, and I march everyday.  My husband and I have opened our lives and hearts to the lives of six children - one lost in the womb to miscarriage - and are open to more, if that is God's Will for our family.  We care for a special child with considerable needs.  And in my daily tasks, I choose to live a Culture of Life, not always joyfully as I should, but always willfully. 

I hope I don't have to march again.  But today, I thank the next generation of pro-lifers who take up the banners and march.  I used to be you.  And I thank the old timers who don't want to have to march year after year because they want the fight to be won, but they do.  If the battle continues, I will march again too.  But for today, I keep all in prayer affected by the horrors of abortion, and I thank God for my beautiful children who gave me a most cherished title: mother.

*Disclaimer: My husband was on a business trip and stranded by the snow waiting for a flight.  He told me NOT to shovel, but I'm stubborn.