15 Months + 30 Years Equals Childhood

I always say that 15 months is when my life changes with a baby. Thomas has been no different. At the end of this month we will hit the 15 month milestone. He is walking, indicating needs, calling me mama, and feeding himself. He is as much joy and contentment as he was as a newborn. He brings so much light to our lives.

Next month marks another milestone for us as our beautiful Clara starts school. I will put two of my children on the bus each morning and spend a few blessed hours with my baby and my house. Never before have I had this blessing, challenging as it may be sometimes.

This year would have been so different if it weren't for the unexpected arrival of our Thomas. I would be working outside the home. I would be contemplating a move to full time. We would still have a nanny. The kitchen cabinets would not be refinished...

Because of the open nature of our marriage and my womb, our lives have been changed in such a miraculous way. I am now home with my children. I am now more present to their lives. Because I am now home during the day, my career as a writer and speaker has taken off in directions beyond my wildest dreams. My health has never been better in my adult life.

Today I sit in the visitor center of The Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe in La Crosse, Wisconsin. I am preparing to give a retreat for the executive board of Catholic Charities, La Crosse. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine this as part of my life.

But my Lord did.

As I turn 30 this year, so many things have settled in my heart and become the focus of my prayer life. 30 so far seems to be the decade of reflection and reconciliation. We've lost some dear friends this year and come closer to others. We have been called to face the mortality of our loved ones and the mortality of ourselves. The great blessing in reflecting on our limited humanness is the opportunity to remember God generosity, God's provision, and God's fortifying love.

Since losing a dear friend in June I've spent a great deal of time reflecting on those in my life who have impacted the woman I am today. Two weeks before his death I ran into him while dining at a local restaurant with my children and mother-in-law. He bought our dinner, unbeknownst to us, until the bill arrived. I thanked him, Clara gave him a drawing and we went on our way with a light quip about lunch sometime soon. About a week later, I drove past the parish where we'd worked together and saw his vehicle out front. I considered stopping to talk, but told myself I'd do it later. A week later, he had gone to our Lord. It is one of those moments I will never forget; one of those missed opportunities that will stay with me forever.

As such, I'm making it a point to feel more in my 30s. My husband regularly reminds me that I need to trust God and follow my heart, not the way society tells my heart it should be feeling. In the past 20 years I've left so many things unsaid. Raised to move around, I've left so many relationships unfinished. It is only now that I am beginning to appreciate the person God created me to be. It is only in the present moment, stable and supported, that I have truly begun to appreciate the awkward, precocious, curious, and genuine young woman of my youth. My adolescent emotions and anxiety had validity. These experiences make me authentic and I must not go forgetting them or pretending they didn't happen. I've already spent too many years running away and then trying to catch up to whom I really am. I'm tired of starting over.

I want my daughter to know authenticity. I want her to trust her heart at any age. I want my son to recognize, name, and embrace his "old soul" in a way I wish I had. I want my baby to forever live in his simple joy of risk. I want to protect them, but I want them to grow to love their own identity and their own place in this world, unmasked by my fear and trepidation.

God guides our hearts if only we take time to listen. It's easy to talk. It's hard to listen. As a child, I was a great listener. When I found myself no longer heard, my ability to listen diminished, leaving me vulnerable, confused and broken. When I married Kevin, my voice once again took on sound and I am now in a place where I need to practice the art of listening once again. I must re-learn listening so that I can grow in Faith, Hope, and Love.

Matthew 18:1-5 "At that time the disciples approached Jesus and said, "Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?" He called a child over, placed it in their midst, and said, "Amen, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever receives one child such as this in my name receives me.""

I having been hearing God's call in this passage for the past few months. 30 marks a new childhood for me. I must embrace this time with my young children and husband as a time to not only example, but practice these childlike arts. I am being called to fill myself up with knowledge and experiences like a child. I am being called to practice once again the genuine love, innocent trust, and fearless abandonment of my childhood. It is time to laugh like Christ and the little child.

I am excited and I am grateful. I miss my dear friend, but I'm in debt to him for being an example of Christ's selfless, ever-giving love and for inspiring me to embrace the Christ child within.

"Come, sit, and tell stories of those loved."

 

 

 

 

Posted with Blogsy

Stay-at-Home Sacrifice: It's NOT all Bunny Rabbits and Roses!

This is what summer is for!

I probably should have been blogging through our massive family transition, if for no reason other than to record it for myself, but alas, I didn't feel much like writing.

I announced it on Facebook, shared it with family and friends, and processed it with anyone who would listen, but I couldn't write about it.

In November, our dear nanny decided she needed to be spending more time with her kiddos. I respect that and am grateful that we had the kind of relationship that allowed her to say so. Since then she has taken time to spend days with Clara and Thomas and given this mama a break once in awhile. We are so grateful for all that she gave and gives to our family.

As a result, Kevin and I had to figure out what to do. With John Ross in school half days and the two littles still at home, finding help and a workable schedule was not easy. After some trial and error, we decided it was time for me to stay home. Working for the church didn't offer the kind of monetary value that allowed us to hire another sitter and give us any additional take home income. Why work to pay the nanny to raise our children? (There is a whole other blog post in there somewhere...an institution that takes the moral high ground on family life, but doesn't provide a living wage or family-friendly benefits like paid family leave.) In addition, here are some things we had to come to terms with in light of our decision:

Always with the tongue!

1. This was God's plan.I tried to explain this to my pastor. I wouldn't have chosen this. If it had been up to me, I would have stayed working the limited hours and limited responsibility job at my parish. I came in, worked, and went home. It was a good break for my head and a good way to appreciate my children. I didn't make much after paying my nanny, but it was worth it. I wouldn't have chosen this drastic course correction, but it was given to us. Everything leading up to this decision was God. We are very much at peace with our decision despite the monumentous adjustments it has required. We are trusting in God's providence.

My first little love.

2. We are grateful.There has been so much peace in our household. I've completed chores on a weekly basis that hadn't been fully complete since John Ross was born. I've gotten into a routine with my two littles which has been invaluable. I've been able to commit hours each week to my physical and mental health with the gift of a YMCA membership from my family. I can slow down and appreciate these fleeting moments with my children and provide more fully for my husband's needs. We are so grateful for this gift.

3. Contrary to popular belief, staying home is not all bunny rabbits and tulips.This is God's plan, we are at peace, and we are grateful, but this is hard. I have several friends who have walked the journey of working outside the home with me for the last 5 years and I so often hear, "It must just be so much easier. I'm so jealous."

Yes, there are times when it is easier. I'm not pushed out the door by a schedule and I'm not rushing home to get dinner on the table during the famous witching hour. My laundry gets done. I don't always have to shower or get dressed in the morning.

But I am always on. There is no physical or mental break. There is no change of mental pace or shift in the demographic I serve. I can't leave it at the office. At work, projects come to an end. At an office, I can close the door. On the phone, the conversation wraps up. At home, the house is never clean, the kids are never ready, there is always another meal and another load of laundry. The closets don't stay clean. There is always needs and you are considered on the job 24/7. When you're working, you get a few hours where ultimately, you're still the top executive of your household, but you've got a director below you managing for awhile.

Again, thankful, grateful, blessed, and honored to have the "luxury", as many call it, of choosing to stay home. That said, I would contest that it isn't much easier than working outside the home.(And for the record, it's hard to blog about something when the only feedback you get on your thoughts is in non-sense all toddler song, baby babble, or Star Wars speak.)

4. We must live with less.We have had to make a lot of mental and financial adjustments. The small amount of money I was bringing in was our "mad money". It allowed us to do extra things like traveling, eating out, and little shopping splurges. We've had to take a closer look at everything we buy. We've done a lot of repurposing, reselling, and rummaging.

Recently, I received a check for some freelance work that I did with a note saying "Buy yourself something nice!" While the sentiment was lovely and thoughtful, there is no extra in our life. We live paycheck to paycheck, making every effort to keep our savings account intact.

If it looks the same on the outside, that is a huge testament to the sheer amount of work we have done to maintain our life despite our financial changes. It is also testament to the generosity of others, our families and those who have generously given their time and "cast offs" to help our family thrive.

3 kids born in Green Bay, it's about time we get to family night!

I say this not because I care what my blog readers and friends think of us. We have made a commitment to a way of life that God called us to and we are at peace.

I write this because I know there are other moms and couples out there that have made similar choices and perhaps can't put them into words. How many of us have worked tirelessly to create a beautiful, peaceful and loving life, but because the grass is always greener, others believe that we're just "lucky"?

No, we are called. We are gifted. We have responded to God's invitation to co-create, sometimes not knowing the sacrifice He is going to ask of us.

And yet, we are so blessed.

 

Posted with Blogsy

Hello World!

We have an open womb. What does that mean? Well, it means that though we regularly discern our family life and our family size, our womb is always open to the possibility of conception. We don't use artificial contraception in the form of a pill, a device or a condom. We know, despite our best efforts in charting, that if God wants us to co-create another life, our womb is open and hospitable. We also know that besides our spiritual and moral beliefs we face societal, familial, financial, and physical challenges that we must weigh heavily in our decisions about family planning.

Amidst all of our beliefs and considerations, we place our trust in God at the center. We allow our womb to remain open and either acheive or avoid pregnancy naturally by way of a process called fertility awareness. As Catholics, many know this as various forms of Natural Family Planning or NFP.

Our womb is open and God has decided to fill it. Completely in God's own way, well beyond my fertile period (my temperature had dropped, my cervical mucus was dry, and we were a good 8 days past my ovulation day of the past 12 months), we conceived our third child. We are so very blessed and so very humbled that we would again be entrusted with the life and upbringing of another of God's children. We are due at the end of May.

Some of you just did the math in your head and figured out that I am only about 8 weeks along. Some of you are asking yourselves, "Why is she telling the world at 8 weeks? What if something happens?"

If something happens, we will greive and we will share that grief and invite others to grieve with us as we have grieved others. However, our faith and our life is about sharing the joys and the sorrows of this journey. I'm pregnant! And I'm not going to let the fear of darkness and death keep me from celebrating and inviting others to celebrate. There is a new life inside of me and if I were a little less woozy (and could physically do one) I'd do cartwheels!

Trusting God with our gift of fertility is not always an easy road. Most dedicated NFP couples, fertile and infertile, will tell you the same thing. It requires trust and communication with both God and spouse. That being said, after finding out just how blessedly fertile we are (3 babies in 5 years), we are so grateful that we have never imposed barriers to the life-giving gift we've been given. Imagine if God had given us this gift of fertility and we had chosen to use a contraceptive drug that acts to prevent the implantation of a conceived child? Many of the contraceptives work this way and even if the science is still out, would you want to even take the risk a new life being flushed from your womb? We don't.

Every sexual act is a gift. It is a gift between spouses. It is a gift from God. It is a gift that is meant to be life-giving to the husband, the wife and our God. Our marriage vows, shared by most Christian marriages, are between three spirits, not just two. Our sexuality, our fertility, is a gift in which life is to be given and received.

Blessed John Paul II, Saint Gianna Beretta Molla, and Saint Gerard Majella, Pray for Us.

My Mixer Metaphor for My Marriage

About 8 months ago, I was just going about my business making a cake for John Ross' birthday. I was using my KitchenAid mixer to whip up a batch of marshmallow fondant to lay over the cake. Anyone who has worked with fondant before knows that it is a pretty heavy load. I finished my frosting, finished my cake and went on celebrating a sweet little 3-year-old boy.

The celebration ended 2 days later when I went to make a batch of merigues (the lightest possible work load for a stand mixer) and the motor would run, but the paddle would hit the meringue and stop.

Stop.

It stopped.

I got the mixer 7 years ago. KitchenAid as a brand has built its reputation on longevity. Their mixers are meant to last a lifetime. A common wedding gift, one would imagine that it should at least last the length of an average marriage, which in one 2011 study was 8.7 years.

Needless to say, I was annoyed. When I get annoyed, world watch out. I tend to be a bit OCD when irritated. The soupy meringues got pitched and daughter of a mechanical engineer that I am, I delved straight into my mixer.

Yes, I did. I Googled and found out that perhaps my mixer needed cleaning. So with a screwdriver, toothbrush, and popsicle stick, I opened up and cleaned out my entire mixer. It was gross since I didn't know that I was supposed to clean it every few years. With a fresh coat of grease, I put everything back together, plugged it in and turned it on. Same problem. Argh.

I took the whole mixer to my dad at Christmas. If the daughter of a mechanical engineer couldn't figure out a simple motor, her dad probably could, right? Well, after a toothpick and some epoxy fixes, the thing still didn't work. We couldn't get the RPMs right. We decided to replace the phase controller, but that required ordering the piece. So, I took my mixer home, ordered the $7 piece and replaced it. Beautiful, right? Wrong.

At this point, you are all saying, just buy a new mixer. Nope, not this OCD spendthrift. I'm not buying another $200 appliance.

More research. Perhaps it was the electrical wires. Another $30 piece ordered and replaced and finally the RPMs were correct. I seperate some eggs and go to work on my long awaited Resurrection cookies (also a meringue-type cookie). I add the 1/4 cup of sugar from the recipe and not 30 seconds later, the paddle stops and the motor keeps running.

Mental picture time: 8:30 at night, I'm sitting at the kitchen table which is covered with a Valentine's Day table cloth, head in my hands, sobbing and cursing at my mixer. Kevin walks in for the night and suggests we just buy a new one. I snap and him and told him that it is just a stupid machine. Just a motor and some gears. I'm not buying a new one. Period.

Instead, I fiddle and futz with the machine for another 3 hours. I open, close, clean, examine and though I am ashamed to admit it, cried and cursed some more.

Then it happened. I realized that there was a piece missing from a very hidden hole that kept the main shaft from slipping when tension was applied. I remembered that the afternoon that I first disassembled the mixer, a small pin had fallen out the moment I had opened it and I couldn't find it's home. I assumed it was a stabilizer for the casing and had placed it in a random hole in the casing. I pulled it out and fitted it to the hidden hole. I tidied up the gear box, re-attached the casing, and wiped down the counter. With a deep breath and not much hope, I plugged in the mixer, held my hand to the paddle and turn the well-worn handle to "stir".

It worked and actually pinched my finger to the side of the bowl. Forget the finger! It worked!

6 months...6 months of trial and challenge. But I fixed it.

I like to believe that this very long process was an allegory for our marriage. Marriages, like mixers, are supposed to last a lifetime. At the core is a sacrament, a motor. It is the divine energy that sustains the marriage. There are gears, spouses, that convert the energy into work that creates beautiful products, children and good works for the world. Sometimes gears are going to slip, sometimes the spark is going to go out, sometimes the pace is going to be too fast or too slow, and sometimes you're just going to get stuck. God's energy keeps going, but the human parts just don't work. It's not a reason to give up or to buy a new mixer. It's a reason to seek expert help and put some elbow grease into it.

If this experience has taught me one thing, I believe that whenever Kevin and I hit the metaphorical "7-year-stick" we're going to be just fine. I'd like to believe it is because we are loving children of God who understand that marriage is sanctifying and always requires effort, in good times and in bad. However, I know better. The truth is, we are both too stubborn and too cheap to start over again.

A Contented Return

Well readers, it's been awhile. Pictures are below for those of you used to being greeted by a photo...:)

I am not dead, depressed, or otherwise wasted away in depths of despair. Actually, I've been wallowing in a time of re-prioritization and discernment. I've been enjoying some major changes made to our life this past spring.

Last summer I made a career move from the pastoral area of stewardship to the pastoral area of faith formation. While I love planning and teaching, I did not much enjoy the drama and grind of that type of position. Students are tired, parents are unkind and demanding, and quite frankly nights and weekends were doing permanent damage to my children. "Bye mama, daddy's staying home so you go to a meeting," on nights when I didn't have one scheduled was way too tough. We spent late nights and weekends recovering from our weeks and my husband, supportive and loving as he was, was being worn down by all the time we spent apart and caring for children alone.

After lots of tears and struggles, bouts with depression, and parish politics, we decided that I needed to watch for a new position. Lo and behold, the perfect position popped up quite out of the blue. 3 days a week I work as a communications secretary for another local parish. Plenty of time for family, diocesan work and writing without the drama of nights, weekends, or parents.

The transformation has been incredible and affirming. My children are better behaved, my patience a bit thicker, and my marriage has never been better. My house stays cleaner, I feel no guilt about stopping mid-task to read books to my snuggly little Sappa, and even my waistline seems to have halted its outward march. Last night, for the first time in a long time I joined a friend for a drink downtown after 7pm! Whoo-hoo!

I've found myself not only more attentive to the needs and persons of my friends and family, but more responsive and more generous. I've been able to put a more positive spin on life in general and helped my family to do the same.

I work a few less hours, took a paycut, and now pay my nanny more, but I wouldn't change any of it to protect what I've rediscovered. I truly feel the balance is back in my vocations. I know not everyone is able to make this kind of change, but I am blessed that my husband and I were able to trust my gut (although reluctantly at times) and see this new phase of our life through.

It's not easy to make the right choice. There are moments when I wonder about my potential, my career, my achievement. There are moments when I think, "Really? 16 years of schooling for this?" and then I remember that no corporate or pastoral achievement can be compared to the responsibility of caring for the souls entrusted to our parental care. No planning meeting compares to a meaningful discussion about heaven with a 3-year-old. Both important, but in this season of my life, God has called me to join him on the lakeshore next to a curious little boy and a dead fish.

The day will come when they won't need me as much. The day will come when God will call me to serve his church in a deeper capacity again. By that time, I will have gained the wisdom of parenthood and the understanding and compassion of married life. I will be that much more equipped to serve God's people on their journeys. I'm not losing anything by stepping back for a few years. I am gaining those foundational years with my little ones and my husband. I have been gifted by God with time to shore up our foundation and build a house on rock with Him.

Build a house of God's love around your children and they will become shelters of God's love for the world.

Here are just a few photos from our very blessed summer so far.

The Men in My Life: Dad, Grandpa, Hubby

Me and the Hubby Relaxing at the Lake

My Little Fish!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Man of Our Dreams out for Pizza

Fourth of July Fun

Riding on the Wagon behind the Tractor

Sassy Sissy and Sappa-Lou

It was the dream of his life to play with his trucks in the sand.

Pizza Man right after he checked out the dead fish.

Love this photo with Auntie Sissy!

Auntie Ana hates little kids eating habits, but who can resist that face???

Here she's got a co-captain, but my daughter doned her own life jacket and struck out in her own little boat with mama swimming behind! Highlight anyone???

From the Wise Man in My Life

"The only way to truly help people or change the world is to do what you can and do it well. You will never fully comprend how many people’s lives you will touch, but don’t do it because you want to save the world, and don’t do it because you want everyone to see it, just do it because it helps the people around you (our kids, our families, our church and our neighbors) and hopefully it will grow. We are the seeds, God is the soil and grace is the rain. When you do it you probably won’t even know that you are doing it."

Isn't he amazing?

10 Things I Didn't Know When I Got Married

1. Differing expectations are at the heart of almost every conflict (and success!)
2. NFP is HARD. That said, it is one of the most worthwhile aspects of our marriage.
3. Men need space...physical and mental...
4. Parents don't get sick days.
5. I'm undisciplined and insecure. God is so good for giving me a patient and encouraging husband.
6. You can communicate too much, but we'd prefer it that way to not enough.
7. Diaper bribes only work when you don't share a bank account.
8. Dual jobs/incomes are great...until you have to balance them with family life. Praise God for a husband who understands the importance of balancing our family life with my career ambitions.
9. My husband has a mental stamina that rivals a robot. He has held strong through many a joyful, sleepless, confused, and tearful night.
10. Life makes love look hard, but with God, the last six years have been the most abundantly blessed of my life.

All jokes aside, five years ago I married a man who is gift from God that I could never deserve. Though cliche, I love him more today than that dreary April day in 2007 when we vowed our lives to God and each other. My best friend, my confident, my lover, my muse, my protector, and many days, my brain. He is the man who challenges me to be better than I am and who encourages me to continue becoming God's creation.

I love you.

Extra! Extra! Cohabitation at Beginning of Rougher Road

Though I've heard plenty a skeptic say the Catholic Church is behind the times, once again, society and science catch up with the Catholic Church! Check out this opinion piece in the New York Times.

NYT: The Downside of Cohabitating Before Marriage

Questions Before 30: Feminist or No?

So, it is officially a birthday in my late-twenties which means it is an appropriate time for question number two in my 30 Before Thirty series.

Am I a feminist?

This question is a recurring one in my life. As an outspoken little girl, a graduate of an all-women's college, and a female lay minister in the Catholic church I've had more than my fair share of occassions on which to reflect on my role in the world. Today the question was raised because of a statement written in the most recent edition of Sr. Joan Chitister's e-newsletter. It read;

"Only then did the brave ones begin to write about the kind of harems the West had constructed for its own women; the closeted wife of the nuclear family whose role was to maintain the conspicuous consumption that demostrated her husband's success..."

I thought that feminism was about having a choice. So long as my choice is free, keeps me free and does not impinge on the freedom of others, my choice should not be in conflict with the feminist belief, right? Apparently not.

Admittedly, her comment followed a series of true statements about how many things have been revealed in the feminine world and genius in the past 50 years. However, in noting those things she also implied that women today, "...risk wallowing in self-deception" as, "...we fail to admit that nothing much has changed as a result of them."

While I have a deep respect for the men and women in this world who have answered God's call to vowed religious life, I do not appreciate my vocation to married and family life being put in a box by a woman who has chosen neither. Furthermore, should she not be criticizing my generation's choices or situation, she still encroaches on the choices of my mother and grandmothers without whose choices I would not exist.

I care to respectfully differ with her opinion. While I am grateful for the great work that was done on behalf of the freedom of women, I believe that some of that same work is done at the expense of women's freedom. I have never been able to call myself a feminist for two reasons: 1. I believe that the true feminist is one that supports a woman's ability to freely choose her way of life and 2. I want to be uniquely feminine.

Let me expand. I believe that the true feministy is one that supports a woman's ability to freely choose her way of life. Freely, in my belief system, is that which makes one free. Choices that enslave me to grief, physical ill-being, or relational co-dependancy do not free me. The areas of financial stability, materialism, family planning, chemical abuse, medicine, and unhealthy relationships of any type are rife with choices that have the potential to enslave me.

It is of the utmost importance to me that I have all the options laid out for me in these areas - to be well-educated before making a radical decision. Instead, many "feminist" efforts lead women to believe that only one option suits their best interest without offering the freedom of a true, educated choice.

Moreover, if I choose to stay home to serve my husband and family by way of cooking meals, teaching values and maintaining a hospitable home, then so be it. If I choose to work full time and send my children to daycare, so be it. If I choose something in between, so be it. My way of living, so long as the decision is made freely and does not impinge on the freedom of others, is as valid as another woman's choice. No philosophy that claims to free women should imply that my choice enslaves me to a "harem" of any sort, western or otherwise.

Just because we can doesn't mean we should. Take Eve for example. God gave Eve the ability to eat of the forbidden fruit. All she had to do was reach up and grab for it. However, the lesson of that story is one of temptation and turning one's back on God's will. She used her free-will to eat of a fruit that enslaved her, and generations to come, to lives aware of and tempted by sin.

And reason number two I have never been able to call myself a feminist is that I desire to be uniquely feminine. I have no desire to be the equal of a man. Those that have accepted the "...male eye..." as implied in Sr.'s reflection have done so not at the hands of ignorance or oversight, but at the hands of a movement that has promoted an equality that can never exist. I am a woman with unique insights, perspectives, and gifts that are different from those of a man. Physically, chemically, and phsychologically we are different. Were we the same, credit to the great wisdom of our Lord, our species, as designed, would not be able to pro-create.

Moreover, men and women around this world and in this church are co-creators with the Divine. Together, we build God's kingdom on earth. I need not be a man to make my contributions count anymore than I need to be American. I stand grateful and humbled by the many gifts and priviledges that being a white, American woman has afforded me. That being said, I have not come anywhere close to the generosity and selflessness of men and women just like me around the world who are doing more than I am to use their God-given gifts to the best of their ability with much less priviledge than I. I stand in awe of them as they fight, like me, to live their baptism.

Fr. Robert Barron makes a short, but wonderful case for the ultimate role and power of a man or a woman of faith. Ultimately, wouldn't you prefer sainthood?

As a representative of one of the newest adult generations of the Church, I firmly believe that much has changed for me as a woman in my Church. I have a voice that in my experience has only been silenced by a previous generation of women who don't want to hear my experience of the teachings and truth of our faith. I have a role that has yet to be challenged where I can form my family, my friends, and the other women in my community. I serve under a Bishop who appointed a married mother of 2 to the USCCB committee on evangelization and catechesis because he recognize the importance of her presence and perspective in their vision for teaching our next generation. I am grateful to be a woman in this church and grateful for the complementarity of my unique gender.

There are indeed times and ways in which the Church takes caution not to simply bend at the whims of popular culture. Perhaps that is why the Church has existed for 2,000 plus years while most political, economic and fashion statements exist but a generation or two.

My ultimate answer: feminist, no. A feminine image of God's great spirit who believes in the unique complementarity of all God's creations, absolutely.

I am woman, hear me love.

Forever a Bridesmaid

I recently came across some photos that my sister had given me from her wedding last year. There were photos of she and her hubby and photos of the wedding party, but there was also a photo of myself waiting to walk down the aisle as one of her bridesmaids.

At the time I had just stopped nursing Clara and was feeling a little down on myself. I was back to work, over my ideal post-baby weight, and I had just cut my hair because a lot of it was falling out post-partum.

Yet, I remembered a comment my sister had made when she first gave me the photos. She said, "Look at these photos of you girls walking down the aisle. In the pictures of you and Jenny (her sister-in-law) you can clearly tell that you are looking at your husbands."

I remember that moment. I looked down the aisle and finding the gaze of my husband at the altar. It was a very sacramental moment for me as I recalled my own journey down the aisle and all the things we had already been through. My heart filled with love and peace and my eyes welled up with happy tears. Walking down the aisle became a testament to the power of a God-filled marriage. We were "leading the way" for my beautiful sister and her husband. I was truly to be a handmaid, serving her by example and presence.

In a world where weddings have become a greater focus than the marriage this comment really made me reflect on the role of the bridesmaid. Sometimes it seems as though a wedding and a bridal party is all about an opportunity for adult dress-up. Yet, the beautiful ritual that is the Sacrament of Marriage prevents us from becoming too caught up in it. We are reminded that the old traditions of the bridesmaids, dressing, carrying, and leading, are not just folly. We stand as witness to the marriage, but more importantly as servants and guides.

My wedding day was one of the most powerful and sacramental days of my life. Moreover, standing up in my sister's wedding with my husband was one of the most powerful renewals of our vows and our vocation that I have experienced to this point. I am reminded that marriage is a journey and it is a journey that we do not take alone. We travel with God, our three in One. With God we co-create, we sanctify, and we serve our marriage and our world and while we do that we lead the way for other holy men and women who are watching our example.

All that from a wedding photo and a 20 minute drive to work...

The Tale of My Wedding Dress

I recently read a beautiful tale of two wedding dresses over at Falling Upward blog and it got me to thinking about my own wedding dress. I thought I'd share.

Kevin proposed to me 3 weeks before I was laid off. If we hadn't been engaged our story may have been very different. I was alone in Green Bay with 18 months of work experience in a field I had no education in and I was locked into an apartment lease. My unemployment payments barely covered my rent and my meager savings would only have lasted a few months. If it hadn't been for our engagement, I very well may have moved back to Ohio where my parents were living at the time.

Instead, unemployed and engaged in a strange city, Kevin paid my other bills while we looked for another job. I was laid off right before the economy turned and so the market was already beginning to slow. I spent the entire 7 months we were engaged looking for jobs and doing decorating projects on Kevin's house. Two months before our wedding my landlord was able to lease my apartment to someone new and I moved into the upstairs bedroom at Kevin's house. While you most certainly can insert judgements here, it was the reality of our situation and I don't believe in making up stories to keep people reading.

Suffice it to say, our engagement was a joyfully cautious time. Without a job it was hard to make decisions about a wedding that would cost money. We kept things very simple. Our guest list was 40 people and we hosted a dinner at a local restaurant. Because it was so small, there was some frustration and hurt from others who assumed they would be guests. So, instead of being happy for us many of our family members voiced upset and anger.

When it came to the dress, while I wanted to look beautiful on my wedding day it didn't really seem to matter at the time. My mom was in a place in her life and my sisters were at an age that they were not able to come and be with me as I made the decision on a dress. I set a very modest budget and knew that I couldn't EVER justify spending more on a dress that I would wear for a few hours. My future sister-in-law and niece went with me to try on dresses. That in itself is slightly amusing because my sister-in-law is pretty far from a girly-girl.

I tried on several that I thought I would like and didn't and finally settle on a simple, no train, strapless beaded gown with a sweetheart neckline. I would have prefered to wear something with straps for Mass, my budget didn't really gift me that option in a style that otherwise flattered me. I didn't have it lengthened because I wore flats and I didn't want a veil. I bought a corset and jewelry and made my clutch to match. Since dinner was scheduled for before the ceremony I also made an ivory cocktail dress to wear for dinner.

By the time the wedding day arrived I had gained a few stress pounds and was grateful for the corset and the relief of an a-line gown. We were running late and I dove into my gown and slapped on some fresh lipstick about 10 minutes before Mass.

I didn't feel stunning or show-stopping. I don't even feel like it was the most beautiful day of my life.

Against my dad's recommendation, I didn't carry flowers. He was worried about my hands shaking from nerves and needing something to hold onto.

But in the end, the second I took my dad's arm and look down the aisle at my future I felt loved. Knowing that we had already thrived despite one of the hardest experiences in life gave me a sense of confidence and security that overcame all of my superficial insecurities about my appearance.

As I took that first step all of the worldly things that tradionally mattered didn't any more. I was beautiful and I was loved. I was marrying a man that was going to stand by me and love me no matter what I was wearing or how pretty my hair looked. I was marrying a man whose only care was to see me wear a smile.

Today my dress hangs in my closet. I have every intention of wearing it again. I am currently on the hunt for a seamstress that will convert my simple a-line gown into a cocktail dress for our 5th anniversary. I plan to hold onto the extra fabric to incorporate into my children's wedding garments. At the time the dress didn't really matter, but today it is symbol of our fidelity, our perserverance, and the simple beauty of our love. It is a symbol and dare I say a"sacramentary" to be passed on to future generations in love and fidelity.

27 Reasons...I Love Him Too

For our 4th anniversary my hubby created a lovely letter with the 27 reasons he loves me (we were married on the 27th of April). While I would love to share those reasons with you because they were truly blessed there are boundaries about what I share online and love letters are not within them. That being said, I felt called to share with all my readers the 27 reasons I love HIM.

1. I can't remember my life before we were one.
2. I can't imagine any more beautiful children.
3. The way we feast upon our experiences, whatever they are.
4. Road trips.
5. You have kept cleaning the litter box even though I am not pregnant.
6. "We don't pull the kitties' tails. God gave us kitties to take care of."
7. You have taught me about discipline and joyful housework.
8. You make coffee for each morning.
9. Schweetie french toast.
10. The best steak dinners by candlelight.
11. K2 wings and cajun fries and Sgambati's pizza.
12. Rabbits!
13. Our bedtime prayers.
14. Squishes!
15. Your support of my career and my passions.
16. Your patience with my redecorating bugs...
17. Having someone who appreciates my cooking even when it undermines your weight-maintenance efforts.
18. Caribou Coffee pit stops!
19. Family date nights.
20. Ghosts and Goblins.
21. All the things you teach me about the world.
22. Conversations about philosophy and theology (even when we don't agree).
23. Travelling the world and dreaming of travelling with the kiddos.
24. Saturday morning market days.
25. Juicy Lucies at Groveland Tap.
26. Snuggly snow days and schweetie naps.
27. Knowing that we are committed to being together for more years of our life than we were apart.

This man is my life. My heart is his heart. We rely fully and completely on each other. While that may not be okay by the world's standards, I don't so much mind being set apart. It means that we are seeking to live a holy and God-filled life.

Deafening but Deepening?

Our home is far from the center of marital bliss in northeast Wisconsin. The combination of the winter blues, a overscheduled calendar, 2 children under two years of age, a state budget crisis and two stubborn, pigheaded spouses just begs for some kind of chemical explosion. Ours happened on Kevin’s 38th birthday…over a cup of tea.

Actually, it was the spilling of foresaid beverage that prompted the explosion. And it wasn’t so much the spilling, but a disagreement about who was to clean up the carpet.

Who started the fire, or the parameters are not important. Nor is the fact that one of us ended up locked in the bathroom sobbing.

The real issue at hand is that each person has their breaking point. Each person has a moment where the oatmeal hits the floor, the pot boils over, or the diaper breaches. There are just some things in life that are too much. For us, it just happened at the same time.

We had it out, but in our hearts we both just wanted a pass. We both needed someone to step up and give us a break. And neither did.

And our hearts hurt. We hate being mad at each other. We just wanted to make it better, but neither of us was willing to extend the olive branch.

By the time an early bedtime rolled around for the kids, we were both ready to just have the whole thing be over. It was as though we couldn’t get to “I’m sorry” fast enough. We talked, we listened, we cried. We didn’t solve all the problems, but we went to bed committed to being kinder to one another.

And that is the best that we can do some days. We don’t worry that it happens. We’ll worry when we no longer see it as an opportunity to communicate and grow. We’ll worry when the deafening sounds or silence no longer lead to depth.