When my children were little, I never thought questions like this wouldn’t be part of my daily life. Thinking back, Bill and I pondered Jacob’s ‘movements’ at the dinner table on a regular basis. And we were serious… every parent knows what I’m talking about here… The right poop was usually a good indicator as to how much sleep we were going to get. And for new parents, that’s as serious as it gets.
Then, with more children, naturally, there was more ‘doo’, causing the scope of pondering to widen. And with that much to keep track of, some was bound to get away from us, which just very simply leads us to the unfortunate Chocolate/Poop question.
But one would think that once the kids all reach a certain age, the conversations involving the natural functions of their bodies would begin to taper off. But, I don’t know about everybody else, in my case…. not so much. Actually, just the opposite.
Turns out, almost every conversation I have with my kids has something directly to do with their bodies and what they’re doing through them, with them, and in them. And most of these conversations have something to do with discerning that very question…is it chocolate or is it poop?....just in a different sense.
What am I saying here? In other words, I spend a lot of time now encouraging them to ask themselves, “Is what I’m doing through my body, with my body and in my body something good and sweet and desirable…an activity worth seeking again and again or………. is it a waste? Or worse….something dangerous to consume or seriously worth avoiding contact with?”
So in that sense, while parents of young children might be thinking how lame it is that they find themselves asking that question literally, “Is it Chocolate or is it Poop?, I’m proposing, that as a parent of three(almost four) teenagers, maybe it’s really just a fertile training ground for what lies ahead. The more discerning you do as a parent when you’re children are young (of course, not only about the difference between the looks of chocolate and poop smeared on a particular surface….or person… but of spiritual as well as non-spiritual movements in your life) the more equipped you will be to raise discerning children.
Just something to think about…
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Concrete Sign- 1
The last day of retreat, I was very much aware of the stirring in my heart with regard to tilling my soil and planting. I couldn't wait to get home to begin dreaming in earnest. God was relentless as he inspired ideas as to location, resources etc...I could feel parts of myself resurrecting from the dead.
Then I got home.
Family life...laundry, bills, work, other details landed in front of me as soon as I walked in the door. I immediately felt the enthusiasm for gardening disappating....how could I possibly add one more thing to my list of responsibilites? Why would I want to till up a space in my yard on purpose and create that kind of mess. What if I didn't remain faithful to caring for it? What if I let the weeds come in and take over? What if it turned out to just be another burden among burdens? Oh....believe me, the desolation was thick and dark.
Thankfully, God loves me too much to leave me without help for long....St. Ignatius came to my aid. I knew enough to realize that I was being tempted to move from Consolation into Desolation. And what do we do when the bad spirit is trying to move us away from the Good Spirit? Yes...you know......RESIST!!!!!!!!!
At that point, I knew the dirt had to be tilled. I must garden. It was no longer a nice idea. It was (and still is) the difference between me being with God or.......not.
Sadly, my strength was waining. But in a beautiful turn of events, that very evening I encountered a professional Gardening Coach from Phoenix, AZ. http://thedesertgarden.com
In a personal, particular, and relational way, God seems to have arranged for me a friendly and keenly knowledgeable guide. Words can hardly express my gratitude.
Then I got home.
Family life...laundry, bills, work, other details landed in front of me as soon as I walked in the door. I immediately felt the enthusiasm for gardening disappating....how could I possibly add one more thing to my list of responsibilites? Why would I want to till up a space in my yard on purpose and create that kind of mess. What if I didn't remain faithful to caring for it? What if I let the weeds come in and take over? What if it turned out to just be another burden among burdens? Oh....believe me, the desolation was thick and dark.
Thankfully, God loves me too much to leave me without help for long....St. Ignatius came to my aid. I knew enough to realize that I was being tempted to move from Consolation into Desolation. And what do we do when the bad spirit is trying to move us away from the Good Spirit? Yes...you know......RESIST!!!!!!!!!
At that point, I knew the dirt had to be tilled. I must garden. It was no longer a nice idea. It was (and still is) the difference between me being with God or.......not.
Sadly, my strength was waining. But in a beautiful turn of events, that very evening I encountered a professional Gardening Coach from Phoenix, AZ. http://thedesertgarden.com
In a personal, particular, and relational way, God seems to have arranged for me a friendly and keenly knowledgeable guide. Words can hardly express my gratitude.
Friday, June 05, 2009
Soil & Receptivity
On retreat a couple of weeks ago, I was having dinner with a group of women when a priest friend came to sit with us. Eventually the subject turned to gardening and all was going well until at one point in the conversation he looked at me and said that I have the most under-utilized piece of land he's ever seen and encouraged me to "plant something!"
My reaction to his innocent words surprised me in its intensity and because my reaction was so disproportionately strong, I've been relating what I've been finding in my heart with regard to 'tilling the soil' to Jesus since then. The grace that has come of this relating is what will now be my own "Chronicle of Gardenia". Thanks for coming along.
My reaction to his innocent words surprised me in its intensity and because my reaction was so disproportionately strong, I've been relating what I've been finding in my heart with regard to 'tilling the soil' to Jesus since then. The grace that has come of this relating is what will now be my own "Chronicle of Gardenia". Thanks for coming along.
Monday, February 09, 2009
Jesus' Altar, Tabernacle and Monstrance
by Giuliana Spigone, A. O.
February 24, 2003
Jesus is always with us. He assured us, “[K]now that I am with you always, until the end of the world.”[1] Jesus remains always with us! Let us welcome Him; let us open wide the door of our heart to let Him in! Our heart has to be like an altar, a tabernacle, and a monstrance.
AN ALTAR
Let us make of our heart a table on which our offerings are placed; the same altar where every day Jesus offers Himself to the Father for us. We have to be an altar on which our poverty is offered. Let us place all we are and have on the altar of God; let us sacrifice ourselves, our selfishness, our pride, and all that belongs to us. The blessing of our heavenly Father will come upon our offerings and the Spirit will transform them into an oblation pleasing to God.
A TABERNACLE
Our heart must be like a tabernacle, a sacred place where the Lord lives, watches in silence, and murmurs words of goodness and love to the heart. “Taste and see how good the Lord is,” [2] the Psalmist sings. We have to experience the presence of the Lord within us and generously share it with others. Let us listen to what the Lord says to our heart about ourselves and about our brothers and sisters whom we are to love as He loves them.[3]
A MONSTRANCE
We want to make our heart like a monstrance, exposing Jesus to all we meet. Mary, the first monstrance, showed her Son to the Shepherds, the Magi, to all. Before Jesus was born, Mary brought Him to Elizabeth who rejoiced in Whom she saw. Elizabeth, in turn, became a monstrance herself and sang the first beatitude[4] and Mary responded with the Magnificat.[5] Together the two women - each bearing Jesus in her heart - sang a beautiful canticle of praise to the Lord.[6] May our own encounters with others reflect the mystery of the Visitation as we bring our Lord to a waiting world.
Therefore, let us say often:
Jesus, let my heart be
the altar where You sacrifice Yourself
the tabernacle where You watch over us
the monstrance where You manifest Yourself to the world. Amen.
[1] Mt 28:20
[2] Ps 34:9
[3] see Jn 15
[4] Lk 1:45
[5] Lk 1:46-55
[6] Lk 1:42-55
February 24, 2003
Jesus is always with us. He assured us, “[K]now that I am with you always, until the end of the world.”[1] Jesus remains always with us! Let us welcome Him; let us open wide the door of our heart to let Him in! Our heart has to be like an altar, a tabernacle, and a monstrance.
AN ALTAR
Let us make of our heart a table on which our offerings are placed; the same altar where every day Jesus offers Himself to the Father for us. We have to be an altar on which our poverty is offered. Let us place all we are and have on the altar of God; let us sacrifice ourselves, our selfishness, our pride, and all that belongs to us. The blessing of our heavenly Father will come upon our offerings and the Spirit will transform them into an oblation pleasing to God.
A TABERNACLE
Our heart must be like a tabernacle, a sacred place where the Lord lives, watches in silence, and murmurs words of goodness and love to the heart. “Taste and see how good the Lord is,” [2] the Psalmist sings. We have to experience the presence of the Lord within us and generously share it with others. Let us listen to what the Lord says to our heart about ourselves and about our brothers and sisters whom we are to love as He loves them.[3]
A MONSTRANCE
We want to make our heart like a monstrance, exposing Jesus to all we meet. Mary, the first monstrance, showed her Son to the Shepherds, the Magi, to all. Before Jesus was born, Mary brought Him to Elizabeth who rejoiced in Whom she saw. Elizabeth, in turn, became a monstrance herself and sang the first beatitude[4] and Mary responded with the Magnificat.[5] Together the two women - each bearing Jesus in her heart - sang a beautiful canticle of praise to the Lord.[6] May our own encounters with others reflect the mystery of the Visitation as we bring our Lord to a waiting world.
Therefore, let us say often:
Jesus, let my heart be
the altar where You sacrifice Yourself
the tabernacle where You watch over us
the monstrance where You manifest Yourself to the world. Amen.
[1] Mt 28:20
[2] Ps 34:9
[3] see Jn 15
[4] Lk 1:45
[5] Lk 1:46-55
[6] Lk 1:42-55
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Emmanuel con't
...I knew from past experience that the event that caused the strong emotional response was exactly the place where I needed to press in during prayer. It was an invitation for healing. I wanted the healing, I just didn't want to look at the ugliness of the festering wound. As a matter of fact, I couldn't look at it without help. When ever I would get to it in prayer and I would sense Jesus asking me if he could help me with it, I would recoil in pain, "No! Absolutely not!" He would ask, "When have you experienced pain like this before?" and all I wanted to do was vomit!
I literally felt physically ill during prayer until, mercifully, one day in my Christian imagination, I had an image of being on an Emergency Room operating table. I was in grave danger and a very knowledgeable nurse rushed in the room to help me. She was working to save my life. The doctor was on his way, she was prepping me for his intervention. My nurse was Mary. I remember her making eye contact with me and saying, "The Doctor is coming and has to do a particular procedure. If he doesn't do it you will die. If he does, he can save you. Do you consent to having this procedure done?" I will never forget the loving concern in her eyes. I consented and said, "Yes, I consent, but you have to put me out!"
Each day in prayer after that experience, I went in my imagination to the operating room, I saw Mary there with me at my side, I saw the Divine Physician enter the room, I would give my consent to Mary and would immediately fall into a deep sleep. I would wake an hour or so later, thank the Father, Son and the Holy Spirit for their love and mercy, ask Mary to continue to pray for me, make the Sign of the Cross and go on my way.
Outside of prayer I started to notice that certain memories were coming to the surface that I thought I had sufficiently related to God in the past. They would re-occur each day and cause me each time with the mental images that came with them to recoil in disgust. I was not digging for these, they occurred spontaneously. I realized I needed to relate each image along with the particular past experience to Jesus in prayer, but I also needed to say them out loud.
All this began happening after I started praying for the grace to grieve each day the way the Father wanted me to grieve. All along I thought my grief could be isolated by situation. For instance, that my grief about Bill's passing was completely disconnected to any other type of grief experience I had in my life previously. This is not so, from my experience. In me it was like all my grief was tied together like knots on a strand. When I started pulling on one, they all started coming up, one at a time. It didn't happen automatically, it was by invitation. I had to consent. And once I did, the grace was there for me to look at each experience of grief as it came to the surface. I didn't have to go searching for it, but I could ignore it if I wanted to. Ignoring would create more pain, but it was still an option in my Christian freedom. God would never force me to heal, only invite.
I literally felt physically ill during prayer until, mercifully, one day in my Christian imagination, I had an image of being on an Emergency Room operating table. I was in grave danger and a very knowledgeable nurse rushed in the room to help me. She was working to save my life. The doctor was on his way, she was prepping me for his intervention. My nurse was Mary. I remember her making eye contact with me and saying, "The Doctor is coming and has to do a particular procedure. If he doesn't do it you will die. If he does, he can save you. Do you consent to having this procedure done?" I will never forget the loving concern in her eyes. I consented and said, "Yes, I consent, but you have to put me out!"
Each day in prayer after that experience, I went in my imagination to the operating room, I saw Mary there with me at my side, I saw the Divine Physician enter the room, I would give my consent to Mary and would immediately fall into a deep sleep. I would wake an hour or so later, thank the Father, Son and the Holy Spirit for their love and mercy, ask Mary to continue to pray for me, make the Sign of the Cross and go on my way.
Outside of prayer I started to notice that certain memories were coming to the surface that I thought I had sufficiently related to God in the past. They would re-occur each day and cause me each time with the mental images that came with them to recoil in disgust. I was not digging for these, they occurred spontaneously. I realized I needed to relate each image along with the particular past experience to Jesus in prayer, but I also needed to say them out loud.
All this began happening after I started praying for the grace to grieve each day the way the Father wanted me to grieve. All along I thought my grief could be isolated by situation. For instance, that my grief about Bill's passing was completely disconnected to any other type of grief experience I had in my life previously. This is not so, from my experience. In me it was like all my grief was tied together like knots on a strand. When I started pulling on one, they all started coming up, one at a time. It didn't happen automatically, it was by invitation. I had to consent. And once I did, the grace was there for me to look at each experience of grief as it came to the surface. I didn't have to go searching for it, but I could ignore it if I wanted to. Ignoring would create more pain, but it was still an option in my Christian freedom. God would never force me to heal, only invite.
Snow Plows and Joy
Bill and I used to ask each other the things we wanted to do before we died. And goofing around one night I told him I thought, just once, it would be a blast to drive one of those big snow plows (as a mom, just the fact that they could look in their rearview mirror and see immediate results made it a draw). The cool thing is, I now have my own plow (it’s just a blade on the front of our Suburban, but it’s a plow and it’s mine:)) I spend tons of time thinking of new ways to create bigger snow forts for the kids. It’s great fun and it brings me joy.
On the Third Sunday of Advent (Gaudette Sunday, or "The Pink Candle Sunday" if you're my 9 year-old) this year, our pastor preached about Joy. He said if you’re experiencing it, look around, you’re probably not alone. The other day I had and experience of joy when I was plowing, I was thinking about Bill and how happy he had to be knowing that was loving it so much. I was thanking him for bringing us here, and for giving me this beautiful place to live. I had a growing awareness that my heart was filled with gratitude and joy. I was bubbling over and was telling Jesus all about it when I remembered what Fr. Scott said about Joy…and even though I was alone in the vehicle, I realized I couldn't be. I'm pretty sure for one quick moment, Bill was there too. It was a precious, unexpected gift just like our move has been. Thanks, Bill, for the visit. I loved every second. Come see me again soon and stay longer next time :)
On the Third Sunday of Advent (Gaudette Sunday, or "The Pink Candle Sunday" if you're my 9 year-old) this year, our pastor preached about Joy. He said if you’re experiencing it, look around, you’re probably not alone. The other day I had and experience of joy when I was plowing, I was thinking about Bill and how happy he had to be knowing that was loving it so much. I was thanking him for bringing us here, and for giving me this beautiful place to live. I had a growing awareness that my heart was filled with gratitude and joy. I was bubbling over and was telling Jesus all about it when I remembered what Fr. Scott said about Joy…and even though I was alone in the vehicle, I realized I couldn't be. I'm pretty sure for one quick moment, Bill was there too. It was a precious, unexpected gift just like our move has been. Thanks, Bill, for the visit. I loved every second. Come see me again soon and stay longer next time :)
Thursday, December 18, 2008
A Year Later...
This picture was taken of us last Christmas outside of Notre Dame in Paris. We spent that first anniversary with my sister Bobbi and her family. As our luck would have it, they were living in Germany at the time:) (still are, actually). We took a day trip to Paris. It was a beautiful adventure that taught me again how great my kids are and how important it is to be with family no matter how far away they are.This year Bobbi and her sons are here in the States visiting us for Christmas. We're deeply blessed that my parents moved back to our home town this summer so we are all here together now. I'm comforted that not only is Bill's family close by, but that my family is near as well. When it's thirty below zero and people are wondering aloud why we live in South Dakota, I just remember...it's the people.
Emmanuel
Last September I started having some health problems that scared me. I don't know, losing Bill and being a cancer survivor myself kind of got my imagination activated and before I knew it, I was sure I was going to die. I answered a phone call from my doctor just as I was leaving a paint store and by the time I got to my car I had played it all out in my mind. The bad test results had to mean I was going to die and my children were going to be left without parents. Wow...looking back, the thinking is clearly delusional, but at the time, it seemed perfectly logical based on my history of fortune in this area.
God was no where to be found in my thinking other than to put words in his mouth. Thankfully my mom confronted me saying, "Jackie, you can only look at what you know. No speculating," for me to slow down and really evaluate what I did know. All I knew was that I needed more tests. I had to sit and wait. No running ahead.
At the time, I thought the whole thing was about this physical problem I had, but it's never just that. Is it? I ended up having what was supposed to be a minor surgical procedure. I was very resistant to it but believed I needed it done (which I did), but after what happened during the procedure, I would have rather had a tractor drive over me. My emotional reaction to it all was extremely disproportionate. I cried from the second I got on the table until twenty minutes after it was over. Something about this procedure hit a core wound and I could either respond to God's invitation to go with Him into the pain, or I could reject him and try to figure out and fix it myself. I'll tell you what I did in my next post......
God was no where to be found in my thinking other than to put words in his mouth. Thankfully my mom confronted me saying, "Jackie, you can only look at what you know. No speculating," for me to slow down and really evaluate what I did know. All I knew was that I needed more tests. I had to sit and wait. No running ahead.
At the time, I thought the whole thing was about this physical problem I had, but it's never just that. Is it? I ended up having what was supposed to be a minor surgical procedure. I was very resistant to it but believed I needed it done (which I did), but after what happened during the procedure, I would have rather had a tractor drive over me. My emotional reaction to it all was extremely disproportionate. I cried from the second I got on the table until twenty minutes after it was over. Something about this procedure hit a core wound and I could either respond to God's invitation to go with Him into the pain, or I could reject him and try to figure out and fix it myself. I'll tell you what I did in my next post......
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Endings and Beginnings
Four years ago today, Bill had his first brain surgery. It was the last day of our innocence. The following days brought one seizure after another and an introduction to a glossary of terms we never could have imagined we'd have to master...Anaplastic Astrocytoma? Glio Blastoma? It was, and remains a difficult reality to accept, yet here we are four years later without him for a year an a half already.
We continue to grieve, but these days the memories are less sugar-coated and more honest. Bill was human after all and married to me not the Blessed Virgin. As I pray every day for the grace to grieve the way the Father wants me to that day, he leads me to deep places in the landscape of my heart that yet to resonate with the love of God. There is pain, to be sure, but every step through this rough and dangerous terrain is like watching a black and white image being gradually turned to full color. As I bring the dull and dark places into the light of God's love in prayer, they are being watered by my tears. New life is beginning to grow now in places where only despair lived before.
None of this healing was possible with Bill physically here in my daily life as the comforts of marriage sometimes cover places of deep woundedness with the balm of human intimacy. With that removed, all that remains is my relationship with the Trinitarian Lord. This is a severe mercy, but I give my God loving gratitude for it.
We continue to grieve, but these days the memories are less sugar-coated and more honest. Bill was human after all and married to me not the Blessed Virgin. As I pray every day for the grace to grieve the way the Father wants me to that day, he leads me to deep places in the landscape of my heart that yet to resonate with the love of God. There is pain, to be sure, but every step through this rough and dangerous terrain is like watching a black and white image being gradually turned to full color. As I bring the dull and dark places into the light of God's love in prayer, they are being watered by my tears. New life is beginning to grow now in places where only despair lived before.
None of this healing was possible with Bill physically here in my daily life as the comforts of marriage sometimes cover places of deep woundedness with the balm of human intimacy. With that removed, all that remains is my relationship with the Trinitarian Lord. This is a severe mercy, but I give my God loving gratitude for it.
Father's Day
We had a peaceful, beautiful Father's Day today. We spent it remembering Bill in so many different ways. It was as if he was with us. As I did some reading while watching the kids swim at the lake I came across this scripture passage:
"For kindness to a father wil not be forgotten. It will serve as a sin offering...it will take lasting root. In time of tribulation it will be recalled to your advantage. Like warmth upon frost it will melt away your sins." ~Sir 3:14-15
Reading it was like Bill giving the children a big thank you letter. I read it to Jake and Hannah later and they were moved to tears. I want to frame it for each of them so they never forget the way God values every little thing they did to help their dad when he was sick. Not one cup of water or fingernail clipping is going to be forgotten. Glory be to God.
At Mass, Fr. Bain talked about how fathers are like Apostles called to lead their families into lives of holiness, to invite, challenge and encourage us to become the people God created us to be. I firmly believe Bill continues to lead us from his place with God. Days like today prove it.
"For kindness to a father wil not be forgotten. It will serve as a sin offering...it will take lasting root. In time of tribulation it will be recalled to your advantage. Like warmth upon frost it will melt away your sins." ~Sir 3:14-15
Reading it was like Bill giving the children a big thank you letter. I read it to Jake and Hannah later and they were moved to tears. I want to frame it for each of them so they never forget the way God values every little thing they did to help their dad when he was sick. Not one cup of water or fingernail clipping is going to be forgotten. Glory be to God.
At Mass, Fr. Bain talked about how fathers are like Apostles called to lead their families into lives of holiness, to invite, challenge and encourage us to become the people God created us to be. I firmly believe Bill continues to lead us from his place with God. Days like today prove it.
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