You know you're exhausted when...

You were stuck in the hospital for almost three days with free wireless internet and you didn't even post on your blog.

So my beautiful little Miss L arrive Tuesday afternoon after about six hours of labor, weighing in at 7 lbs. 1 oz. I'm feeling pretty good, better than I did with either of the previous births, but I've only slept about eight hours total since I left for the hospital early Tuesday morning, so I'm tired to the point of being kind of delusional.

I can't wait to do some posts about my experiences and the birth story, but that will have to wait until I get some sleep. Until then, I present you with a quiz to keep you guessing about the potential subject matter for upcoming posts:


1. What was I surprised to see when I got home?

a) A living room full of balloons and a huge "WELCOME HOME MOMMY" banner

b) A lady who introduced herself as our new live-in housekeeper who my husband hired to help me for the next twelve months or so

c) A masseuse and manicurist, all set up to give me a lavish in-home spa treatment

d) A scorpion, stinging and possibly trying to eat another dead scorpion underneath it

2. How did I get through Pitocin-induced labor with a posterior baby without making a single noise through any of the contractions?

a) Tapping into my deep spirituality while praying the rosary

b) Using all those effective techniques I learned in Bradley class

c) Meditating on the Crucifixion and the meaning of redemptive suffering

d) Listening to Tupac at full volume on my iPod

e) Somehow managing to do both C and D

3. What did I learn about getting an epidural?

a) That it's asinine to hold out until the last minute when you were planning to get one anyway.

b) That having three transition contractions while someone is inserting a needle into your spinal column is not a pleasant experience.

c) That if you have a clotting disorder the anesthesiologist will want to be sure to take the time to pull every medical record you've ever had and spend infinite time pondering them before giving his consent.

d) That epidurals don't always work.

e) All of the above.

4. What TV show did I watch that made me most fearful about the future of humanity?

a) MTV's Date My Mom

b) VH1's Flava of Love Casting Show

c) WETV's Platinum Weddings

d) Bravo's Real Housewives of Orange County

e) All of the above. I'm thinking it's time to just go ahead and let the Muslims take over.

5. When the lactation consultant asked me to describe the sensation I feel when the baby first latches on to nurse, how did I respond?

a) "Feels great."

b) "It's slightly uncomfortable."

c) "Ouch, it hurts."

d) "SOMEBODY KILL ME NOW!!!!!!"

Answers forthcoming, pending my ability to find time for a nap and my pharmacy's expediency at filling my Vicodin prescription.

She's here!

Just a quick update to say that all went well, thank you for all prayers and support!

An exciting life

One thing I've always wanted is an interesting, exciting life. By "exciting" I don't mean that I need all my days to be packed with BASE jumping while handling rattlesnakes, but just that I've always craved a life where I'd be challenged and stimulated, where there'd frequently be something new and different going on, where I'd not spend much time stuck in a rut or bored.

And back in my pre-conversion life, I was pretty sure I'd hooked that up. When my husband and I were first together we traveled extensively, lived in the downtown entertainment district, went from zip-lining in the jungles of Costa Rica to underground raves in San Francisco, took big risks with our careers, involved ourselves in interesting side businesses and organizations, etc. etc. I felt like I had done what I wanted to do: I felt like I lived an exciting life.


This has come to mind lately as friends who've known me for a long time have called to ask how I feel about tomorrow, when I'll have my third baby in three years. A couple of girlfriends who have known me the longest have expressed a particularly pointed curiosity about what I think of all this. "Your life now is so, umm," one friend said as she struggled for a way to phrase it, "so different now than it used to be. Do you miss it?"

When she asked that question, if I missed my old life, I realized that I really don't at all. The biggest reason is, of course, that back then I didn't know that God existed. As I've said before, the worst day with God is far better than the best day without God. But there's another reason I don't miss it, one that may surprise some people: it wasn't that exciting. Not compared to my life now, anyway.

While I probably experienced more surface-level thrills back then such as stepping off of a plane in a new country, or shaking hands with some political bigwig whose fundraising party we had managed to sneak into, it was all basically predictable. Scheduled. I was firmly under the illusion that my life was mine to control, so all excitement had its proper place on the calendar. And when events played out that I had not anticipated, that did not fit with my plans for my life, I'd go into a mode of trying to get everything back in line with an iron fist, wallowing in frustration and angst until I forced things back on track.

It was like riding a roller coaster at an amusement park: exciting, yes. But nice and safe and orderly. Plenty of surface-level thrills without much unpredictability. The car stays safely on the tracks and your route is carefully controlled.

Discovering God and deciding to trust him with my future and to live my life according to his rules has been like getting off the roller coaster and leaving the amusement park -- not for a life of boredom, as I might have imagined it to be when I was younger, but for a life of true excitement. If all the carefully planned activities of my early 20's were like riding a roller coaster, turning my life and my future over to God is like whitewater rafting on an uncharted river. It's a life filled with plenty of slow, steady parts where I'm just floating along and taking in the scenery; and sometimes there's rough water; other times there are huge rapids and real danger; but I never really know what's around the next corner.

When I was younger I would have been shocked and a bit incredulous at hearing that living with a strict faith like orthodox Catholicism would lead to a more rich, more exciting life than anything I'd ever experienced. But, really, it makes sense. What is more intriguing than the fact that the Creator of the universe has a will for each one of us at every moment of every day, and that we are able to tap into that knowledge? What is more exciting than knowing that all we need to do is take life day by day, discern where God seems to be leading us this morning or this afternoon, and then just sit back and hold on for the ride, which may very well take us into uncharted territory that we would have never discovered by ourselves?

I've thought about this many times over the past few weeks as I've worked to get the house ready for the baby. As I was assembling the new crib yesterday I thought with a smirk, "Boy, I would have never guessed that this is what I would be doing this weekend." A year ago I would not have imagined that I'd have another baby in August 2007. That certainly wasn't my plan. But these past nine months have been a wild ride, and something tells me that after tomorrow I'll have eight squirmy pounds of living proof that God's plans are always more exciting than our own.

Weekly favorites

Since I'm going to be kind of busy over this next week since I'm having a baby and all, I put together a long list of links in case I don't post much. Here are 14 posts I loved from my blog reading this week:

1. On hope: Hallie has a beautiful post about how someone seeing the good in her inspired her to try to be the person God wants her to be. It's a lovely reminder that we bring people to God not by focusing on their flaws, but by loving them and seeing what's good about them.
   
   
2. The fallacy of the sex life: Another great post from DarwinCatholic, where Darwin makes the point that "we put ourselves into awkward places when we try to focus on having a 'sex life' without admitting that we're really talking about a 'reproductive life'."
   
   
3. Out of the bad must come some good: Mum2Twelve has a touching post about how she and her family managed to make something good out of a very hurtful comment that was left on their blog.
   
   
4. How important is it to get up before the kids?: As a night owl who loathes getting up early, I found this discussion over at Melanie's blog about getting up before your children very interesting.
   
   
5. How to stay on top of laundry: Not an exciting subject, but the thoughts that Danielle Bean and her commentors offer are really helpful.
   
   
6. Our dogs, ourselves: The Bayly's point out that Michael Vick was simply exercising his personal choice about what he wants to do with his dog, not trying to tell anyone else what to do with their dogs. Snarky, but with some good points.
   
   
7. Giving thanks, in everything: I liked Susie Davis' post about remaining in a thankful state of mind, particularly her method of dealing with discontent born of envy. She writes, "If I notice the neighbor's new renovation -- I give thanks for eyes to notice. When I open my 'worn' front door -- I give thanks for a place to call home."
   
   
8. Homeschooling and chemo: Any homeschooling moms who are having tough days might offer up their troubles for Heather, who is homeschooling her children while desperately sick from undergoing chemotherapy.
   
   
9. Biking to the monastery: What a cool idea. Stephanie is biking to the monastery where she is about to become a Postulant, using her journey there to help her discern if she is called to this vocation. Here is her first post that summarizes her story. (via the Deacon's Bench)
   
   
10. God will never count us out: CourageMan has an inspiring post using boxing as an analogy for spiritual battles. He points out that, unlike with boxing, in the spiritual realm "we can be spiritually renewed every day as [a boxer's] body could not...so we can fight every round as if it were the first."
    
    
11. It's a necklace! It's a teether!: Finally, a necklace I could actually wear. I'm going to have to get one, and it also seems like something that would make a unique baby shower gift. (via mum2twelve)
    
    
12. Going to confession: Radical Catholic Mom has some good tips on how to get over reluctance to go to confession.
    
    
13. Camping out: Amber of Rutabaga Dreams and her family are living semi-permanently at a campsite while they build their own family home. As a person who considers going to the mailbox a bit more outdoor activity than I care for, I read all of her updates with my jaw on the floor. The idea of living out of a tent with two little kids is just so perplexing and fascinating and impressive to me. Some pictures here. Wow.
    
    
14. A day in the life of a homeschooling mom of 17: The Duggar family, who I'm sure you've heard about recently, shares a glimpse into their daily routine on their website. I found it really interesting. (via Raising Saints)
    

Have a great weekend!

Stepping out of the way

I realized after reading the last post that didn't specifically address the question I posed in the title: what do I say to my gay friends? The answer is, the same thing I say to any of my friends who have different morals or religious beliefs than I do: not much.

With my gay friends, the subject of my conversion really hasn't come up. The only change they might have noticed since I became "one of those Catholics that believes in all the rules and stuff" (as one acquaintance put it) is that I'm a better friend. I spend less time sharing juicy gossip and more time listening to what others have to say. I focus less on loudly making sure everyone is aware of how witty and interesting I am and focus more on showing genuine concern for what's going on in my friend's lives.

When spending time with friends or family who don't share my religious beliefs, I figure that if I'm wrong and they're right, the only thing that me pushing my views is going to do is annoy everyone. Besides, nobody was ever converted by being chastised about how wrong they are. And if I'm right and they're wrong, then the first thing I need to do is shut up and pray. I have the grand Creator of the universe on my side, who desperately wants all souls to know him, and he probably has a better plan for how to get his message across than I do.

The question, as I've come to see it, is not, "How can I show this person the error of her ways?", but rather, "How can I focus more on the error of my ways, to conform myself more perfectly to the image of Christ? How can I do a better job of pushing my ego aside to allow people to see Christ through me?"

I should note that this is not always the way I've seen it. These are certainly not my original ideas here. My way of approaching evangelization used to be more like, "Boy, this is going to be a lot of work to show all these people how wrong they are! I'd better get started handing out the criticism!"

An analogy I often think of for how I used to handle pitching my newfound religion is that it was like I was describing the sun to someone who'd never seen it -- while blocking out all the light and casting a shadow on them. I picture myself rambling a mile a minute, saying things like, "So the sun is this round fireball in the sky, all bright and kind of yellowish and stuff. You should see it, it's beautiful. It's sooooo warm, it feels so great when it shines on you. I mean, you've just got to feel this! There's nothing better than basking in the warm glow of the sun!" while meanwhile the poor person is sitting in my shadow, unable to see the sun for himself because I'm in the way.

Luckily, God gave me a much-needed smack upside the head, and told me that I need to step aside. After a few painful lessons in humility, I got this wonderful advice from commentor Steve G. on the subject of evangelizing to others, based on his experience with his (formerly) agnostic wife (a must-read -- go check it out if you haven't already seen it).

Around the same time, I was reading Fr. Tadeusz Dajczer's book The Gift of Faith and came across an interesting point about St. Francis. Francis of Assisi lived during a time when many people were losing faith, heresy was rampant across Europe, and there was widespread corruption in the Church. He almost single-handedly turned the tide for the better, but how? Not surprisingly, he didn't use my old method of telling everyone how wrong they are. Fr. Dajczer writes:

Francis never criticized anybody. He believed that if evil is all around, it is he and not others who must first be converted. If such great abundance of wealth and debauchery is rife...then it is he who must become radically poor and pure. Saints differ from those who create heresies because heretics want to convert others but do not want to convert themselves, whereas saints turn all the cutting edges of criticism towards themselves, they strive to be converted so that the world can be better. [...]

It was he, Francis, who had to be radically converted, and history proved that he was right. For when Francis was converted, when he became so 'transparent' to the Lord that the image of Christ could be reflected in him, Europe then began to heave itself up from its fall.

This insight was actually a huge weight off my shoulders. When I'd first realized that Christianity was true, I looked around at all the people I loved who rejected this religion as I once had, and felt great anxiety: how could I ever convert all these people? How could I show them the peace and beauty that they were missing? It felt overwhelming. So it was with great relief that I realized that it wasn't my job to convert anyone: it's God's job. The best way I could possibly evangelize would be to let God work through me, to turn all my anxieties and frustrations over to him and focus all my energy on improving my prayer life and seeking deeper conversion for myself.

And so, rather than turning inward and asking myself, "What do I say to friends and family members who have totally different morals or beliefs than I do?", I try to remember to turn to God instead, and to ask him, "How do I step out of the way? How can I set my pride and my selfishness aside? How can I let the world see not my shadow but your light?"

"What will I tell my gay friends?"

Back in what I suppose you could call "Phase I" of my conversion, when I had been looking into Christianity for a while and, to my great surprise, found it more and more compelling, there was one concern that weighed heavily on my mind: what would this mean for my relationships with my gay friends?

Three of my husband and my very dearest friends and many of our acquaintances are gay, and live gay lifestyles. And though I didn't know many of the details, I knew enough about Christianity to be pretty sure that if I were to become a Christian I would be part of a belief system that said that there was something wrong with the homosexual lifestyle. It gave me pause. On the one hand, so much seemed true about this religion's teachings. It seemed on so many different levels that I was on the right path here. But I just didn't see how I was ever going to make sense of the teaching that homosexuality is wrong. The gay couples I knew didn't seem to be doing anything all that different than the straight couples I knew. It didn't feel right to say that Julie and Tom's relationship was somehow superior to David and Mark's when the sole difference between them was that Julie and Tom are of opposite genders and had a piece of paper from the state saying they were "married". Who cares?

Something about the whole thing felt wrong. It seemed that what I would essentially need to say to my gay friends based on my newfound belief system (as I understood it) was, "As a person who is attracted to the opposite sex, I get a sort of 'get out of sin free' card as soon as I commit to sexual monogamy through marriage. Sex is a gift God gave us for pleasure...but only heterosexuals can indulge in that pleasure." Based on that view, it made heterosexuals sound like some kind of chosen people. If God's law is such that sexual acts between two people of the same gender are always wrong, even if those same acts might be committed by a heterosexual couple with no problem, it kind of makes it feel like God has something against people who are attracted to the same gender.

All of this nagged at me for months, and was a real sticking point for me in moving forward with Christianity.


Meanwhile, on a seemingly unrelated topic, I was just beginning to realize how amazing it is that we really do have eternal souls. As I've said before, I always knew it somewhere deep down in my heart, but it was just amazing to realize that it's true, and to think about what that meant. Coming from a background of seeing human as advanced animals, a mere set of chemical reactions, this whole "soul created by God" thing was just mind-blowing stuff.

One thing about it all quickly jumped out to me: if all this soul/God/eternity stuff is true, then human sexuality is a very, very grave matter. I thought of sex, that same 'ol thing I'd seen bandied about in the media and in pop culture all my life, and suddenly realized: Whoa! Hey! This is the process through which human beings -- people with eternal souls, dearly precious to God -- are created! What a profoundly miraculous, sacred thing this is. What an unbelievable, undeserved honor that God would allow us to take part in co-creating lives with him!

After I let that huge concept sink in, I began to explore Christian teaching on sexuality more. It just seemed like this was an area where we really needed to bow our heads in humility before God, where we must tread with the utmost care and respect. I wanted to know more about how we could do that. I had been interested in Catholic theology for other reasons, so I read up on the Theology of the Body and Humanae Vitae. It was an easy sell.

The Catholic idea about how we can give human sexuality the respect and honor it deserves is one of those things that just sounded right to me. I actually didn't even need to read too much about the reasoning behind it (though I did, and found it to be solid), because it just felt true. The theory that God would like for us to respect this sacred process by keeping our hearts open to the creation of life with every single sexual act, just kind of clicked for me. It seemed pretty plain that the great pleasure that accompanies the soul-creating act we call sex is just too perfect a tool for the devil to use to lead us astray, and that the only way for individuals and society as a whole to keep that in check is to never, ever intentionally sever the pleasure of sex from its life-creating potential.

And as I've said before, I was surprised at how far-reaching the implications of this worldview were. I suddenly saw practically every area of my life, my marriage, and the world in a different light -- and one of those things was the issue of homosexual lifestyles.

Though the implications of this philosophy on sex were weighty and required great sacrifices, perhaps moreso for people with same-sex attraction, it didn't strike me as unfair. It made sense to me that God wants sex to occur exclusively between a man and a woman not for some arbitrary "because I said so" kind of reason, but because that's the only way we can leave our hearts open to the idea of creating life with every sexual act; that to commit a sexual act solely for the purpose of experiencing the pleasure it brings, to mentally compartmentalize the physical sensations from the amazing purpose for which God has given this to us, is a dangerous thing -- whether done by two men, two women, or a man and a woman; and that when it comes to carrying crosses in the name of respecting human sexuality, heterosexuals don't get to say, "No thanks, I'm straight."

As I have learned from my own relatively small trials and stories of others who have faced far greater challenges, heterosexual couples often have to make great sacrifices to live this teaching. Does it compare to the sacrifice that this worldview would ask homosexuals to make? I don't know. I'd imagine it's different for each individual. But certainly, great selflessness is required of everyone.

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A quick disclaimer: I know that this post touches on a lot of hot topics, and that many of the readers of this blog see this issue from a different perspective. I hope my tone here is clear that I offer this in the spirit of a personal reflection on an important area of my conversion. I wouldn't be sharing the full story of my path from atheism if I left this part out. But it's not my aim with this post prove that I'm right or to criticize people who don't see the world this way -- certainly there is no shortage of people who use contraception, practicing homosexuals, or practicing homosexuals who use contraception who are better people and better Christians than I am. :)

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UPDATE: Click here for a follow-up post. Also, I totally forgot that I'd already covered this subject here. Duh.

Creating life

I had an interesting experience last week, one that I've been thinking about a lot over the past few days. I was flipping through a copy of People Magazine while I got a haircut, and came across an article by Alexis Stewart (daughter of Martha Stewart). In the article Alexis, who is 41 years old and single, talks with stark honesty about her current struggles to have a child. Below is an excerpt from her story:

Since December, I've been going to the New York Fertility Institute in Manhattan. The drugs cost $6,000, the doctors and in vitro fertilization procedures about $20,000 to $27,000 -- a month.

They give me, like, eight times as many drugs than the other place did to stimulate egg production, then check me every two to four days.

I take two shots a day...Once a month, I inject myself with a drug that causes me to ovulate in 36 hours. Just before the 36 hours are up, I go to the doctor's office and they put me under anesthesia and use an 18-inch needle to remove about 10 eggs. Then, I go home to my apartment in Tribeca, change and get ready for my Sirius Radio Show, Whatever, that I co-host at 5 p.m.

The doctor, meanwhile, fertilizes the eggs right away, using a technique called ICSI [intra cytoplasmic sperm injection], which involves poking a hole in each egg and shoving a sperm in to create an embryo.

I'm using an anonymous donor, but not from a 'genius' bank. Those are creepy.

After the doctor conducts an embryo biopsy for Down Syndrome and the myriad of other things you might find around the three-month pregnancy mark, he says, "Eight out of 10 are not healthy" or whatever. Then, he tries to [transfer] the healthy embryos. I've had two transfers; they haven't stuck.

Last month after my egg retrieval, the clinic left a phone message saying I should call. They were going to tell me how many embryos were healthy...When it may be just another emotional blow, I sometimes don't need to know right away; knowing won't change it. If there are not healthies, I try to let it go immediately, because you can go crazy. Crazy.

But I'm not even close to stopping. I'm trying to build up a supply of healthy embryos because ideally, I'd love to have two kids.

I tell people who are 40, or ever 35, if you have the money, freeze your eggs, or better yet, embryos. If you don't have a husband, get an anonymous donor. That way, if you never find Mr. Perfect, you have options. [MORE]

Not surprisingly, Ms. Stewart's article gave me a lot to think about, and remained on my mind after I got home. Later that day I sat down to do a bit of blog reading, and came across another story of infertility, this one on a blog called Waiting for Life:

I have prayed that God would give us the opportunity to show generosity in this way [by having a family] soon. Even if we can't have our own, I truly want to provide a home for children in need. Perhaps a child with a disability. I never thought I could even consider that. But lately my heart has been so heavy for orphaned children with disabilities. Perhaps they feel no one would ever provide a home for them because they are "less than perfect." The other day on the way out of mass, a boy about the age of 12, who had a disability of some kind...turned and looked me straight in the eye. He smiled the biggest smile I have ever seen and waved with excitement. It pierced my heart. My eyes filled with tears -- tears of joy -- that God made this precious child. Though he made not appear "perfect" by the world's standards, he is perfect to God. And he has dignity because of this.

And I went to the adoration chapel with P and as we sat before Christ in the Eucharist I prayed that He would allow me the privilege to love someone like that. I have so much love inside. I really want to do something big for God. Not for my sake really. I want to show them how much God loves them just how they are.

I found these posts to be stunning examples of the fruits of two very different worldviews on the creation of life.

In the first view, presumably the way Ms. Stewart sees it, children are something we make. They don't have their own inherent dignity until we say they do. The decision about when each conceived life becomes a true "person" worthy of respect (e.g. at conception vs. at six months gestation vs. at birth, etc.) is a personal choice for each mother to make as she sees fit. And until a conceived life reaches the point of personhood, whatever that may be, we are free to destroy them at will.

In the second view, presumably the way Waitingforlife sees the world, children are begotten, not made. As D. Vincent Twomey writes, "The child is the gift of life that supervenes on the spouses' mutual gift of self. It is not the direct product of their wills. What we intentionally make are things, property at our disposal. What we beget, are persons equal in dignity to us." At the moment of conception, that unique code of DNA, the only one like it in all of human history, is something very special. It's a human soul, precious to God.

To be clear, my point here is not a personal commentary on Ms. Stewart or Waitingforlife -- they both seem like great people, each trying to do the right thing based on her view of life. (I actually really admire Ms. Stewart's refreshingly brutal honesty, she's the type of person I'd be friends with.)

What is so interesting to me about all of this, and what I've been thinking about all week, was the nature of my reaction to reading these two posts back to back. Often when I read two sides of a controversial issue I react on a cerebral level to the points I encounter. I know where I stand based on logic and reason, and that's that.

Not so in this case.

Reading Alexis Stewart's article literally made my stomach turn (again, not at her personally, but at the events she described). I had this strong, visceral reaction of deep uneasiness at hearing someone so nonchalantly discuss the creation and destruction of human life. It made me profoundly uncomfortable to hear the decision of which lives are worth living and which must be destroyed discussed in such a casual, off-handed way.

On the other hand, the post on Waiting for Life filled me with a sense of peace and comfort upon reading it -- not even necessarily because the writer would consider adopting a special needs child, but simply because of her basic recognition that every single human life is worthy of dignity and respect.

What I wonder about, which of course there is no way to know, is how many other people would have the same reaction. Not that long ago I shared Alexis Stewart's worldview. Technically, nothing she describes in her article would have been offensive to me. Yet I can't help but wonder if my heart might have sunk in the same way it did last week if a few years ago I'd read about casually discarding embryos that had Down Syndrome. There's no way to know for sure, but I suspect that it would have struck me that something was horribly amiss here, that this just didn't feel right.

My conversion from atheism was a long, long path involving countless factors, but many of the key turning points were situations like this: times when I would look at the fruits of my own belief system, watch what happened when people disregarded the soul and God, and feel in my heart that something just wasn't right.

Christians and austerity: does it matter?

My husband and I were having an email exchange last week with my dad, who is an atheist and recently spent a couple of years living in Abu Dhabi. The subject of Muslim culture came up and he mentioned that he was pretty impressed with what he saw of Islam, mainly, I think, because of the seriousness with which Muslims take their religion. For example, he talked about how this past year Ramadan fell during some really hot months, and he would see people passing out in the street as they tried to function in triple-digit temperatures without eating or drinking anything all day long.

Here's one excerpt from one of his emails on the topic:

It's impressive to see how seriously the average Muslim takes their religion, especially coming from the U.S., where 90% of people who call themselves Christians are hypocrites. [In Muslim countries] people stop what they are doing five times a day and cleanse themselves and get on the floor to pray, and that first prayer is before sunrise. Most people who call themselves Muslims do this (at least where I was in AD). We had the little mosque outside our office and I would see flip flops and Guccis at the door. Everyone prayed, from the janitors to the General Manager.

I had been wondering what my father would think of living a place where he was surrounded by people who took their religion very seriously and followed rigid rules based on their beliefs, and it was interesting to hear of the respect he gained for his Muslim friends and coworkers.

Meanwhile, around the same time as we were having this email exchange, I came across the story of St. Dominic, who fought the Albigensian heresy in the 12th century. When he arrived in the area of France where this belief system had taken over, he saw that one of the things that had converted so many people was the extreme austerity with which the Albigensians lived. The leaders maintained high standards of asceticism, shunning all worldly pleasures in dedication to their beliefs. St. Dominic quickly found that if he had any hope of getting through to the people who had been converted to this belief system, he and his companions could no longer stay at nice inns, travel by horseback, have servants, etc. They too had to embrace a life of austerity.

All of this crystallized something I'd always noticed but had never articulated: we humans seem to have some innate sense that religion shouldn't be comfortable. Like my dad with the Muslims and the French people with the Albigensians, there is something compelling about a belief system whose adherents do not make themselves comfortable in the world. But why? Here's my theory, carefully formulated while cleaning the kitchen and grocery shopping this morning:

I think that humans "know" on some subconscious level that one of the hallmarks of a belief system that was actually in tune with a Creator would be willingness on the part of its adherents to experience discomfort. Throughout human history we've all had some kind of understanding that something in this world is amiss, that things are not fair, not the way they "should" be. So it would make sense then that if a group of people were able to tap into knowledge of some other realm, our true home, where things are "right", where there exists the perfect justice and pure good that we all so deeply crave, that they'd have no problem blowing off all the comforts of this life and this world. Presumably, if the next life is so great and it lasts for eternity, people who have figured out how to get there would not feel attachment to the things of this life such as status, luxury, surface-level pleasures, etc. Believers would stand out from non-believers.

This is not to say that austerity on the part of believers makes a religion true. But it would seem to be a compelling data point in its favor, one that resonates to outsiders on some deep level.

I think that this is one of the reasons that Christianity has so little respect from non-Christians: at least in America, we're pretty comfortable. We don't fast, we don't take pains to make Sunday a true day of rest, our standards for the kind of cars we drive and the houses we buy are no different than anyone else's, we don't stress if we miss church here and there, we don't inconvenience ourselves to carve out time for prayer (many of us don't even pray before meals if we're in public), etc. etc. Obviously these are broad generalizations with plenty of exceptions, but there's a lot of truth to it, truth that has not gone unnoticed by non-Christians.

And this is what I've been puzzling about all morning: is that a bad thing? Is it wrong that we as American Christians have, by and large, made ourselves very comfortable in the world? That in terms of daily lifestyle Christians blend right in with secular society?

I'm really not sure.

On the one hand, I could see the perspective that the main thing that matters is what's in each person's heart, that it's fine that most Christians don't turn their lives upside down for their faith so long as they're truly seeking God in their hearts, that outsiders should evaluate the faith based on its claims and doctrines alone, that externally visible signs of devotion shouldn't matter either way.

On the other hand, I could see the perspective that Christians shouldn't fit right in with secular culture because we're not supposed to be "of the world", that amidst our decadent society you'd just kind of expect followers of Christ to stand out like sore thumbs more than they do, that true dedication to Christ would naturally result in more external signs of devotion than you currently see.

In a rare turn of events, I really don't know what I think about this one. And that's why I have a blog: so I can ask you! I'd love to hear other thoughts on this: does it matter that American Christians are not exactly renown for their austere lifestyles?

Weekly favorites

I'm changing the name from "Friday Favorites" to "Weekly Favorites" so that it's not quite so obvious that I'm totally unable to keep up with regularly recurring posts. Anyway, here are nine fantastic links:

1. Not our baby: I'm a big fan of the blog Small Treasures, but only this week came across Kristen's old post called Not "Our" Baby, where she tells the story of a failed adoption after years of infertility, and what she learned from that experience. It's one of the best blog posts I've ever read.
   
   
2. Peace, love and primates: Another thought-provoking post from the Darwins. I especially liked this point at the end: "there is in each of us that temptation towards pride, greed, etc. that allows us to turn any good (religion, love, learning, etc.) into a tool of domination and cruelty. The earthly paradise simply isn't there, either in a modified human society, or in some other species, and yet people...can't help looking for it."
   
   
3. 10 changes since converting: Jeff Baker has a great list of 10 aspects of his life that have changed since his conversion (from agnosticism). I can relate to all of these. Great stuff.
   
   
4. Do I really need a bathmat?: Once again, Tienne puts it all in perspective by candidly sharing her struggles with appreciating what she has and always remembering the poor of the world.
   
   
5. Setting goals for your blog: MamaBlogga has some helpful tips for anyone who is interested in improving their blog.
   
   
6. Praying in the middle of the night: I loved Melanie's story of praying through a period of insomnia. I too have been experiencing pregnancy-related sleeplessness...I could write a post about how I just get mad and think negative thoughts to pass the time, but it might not be quite as inspiring.
   
   
7. A little help from my friends: Ouiz lets us in on a secret: she doesn't raise her six (almost seven) kids all by herself.
   
   
8. God's grace, charted: Now this is my kind of blog post! Nothing in my life escapes quantification in Excel, so I can really appreciate this graph of Jeff Baker's point that God's grace does not correlate 1:1 with our efforts to receive it.
   
   
9. A good Catholic family: Karen Edmisten has a beautiful post about what really makes a good Catholic family.
   

Have a great week!

Children and evangelization

Over at the new blog The Friendly Christian, they recently asked the question: Does the word "Christian" make your stomach turn?

I've been working on a post with my own answer to that question but am having a hard time finishing it up because...well...if I am totally honest...the answer is...yeah, it kind of does. I hate to even admit that since I now have such warm feelings about Christians and Christianity, but old habits die hard.

I talked about this more when I first started this blog, but I had a lot of bad experiences involving Christianity growing up. I lived for quite a few years in the Bible Belt, and received a lot of ridicule and disdain for the fact that my family and I weren't religious.

I've been thinking about those memories quite a bit over the past few months and trying to look back objectively to get a more accurate picture of what the Christians I grew up around were really like. For many years I wrote them all off as hypocrites, and I certainly did witness plenty of very un-Christian behavior by self-described Christians, but I now wonder if perhaps at a certain point I began to stereotype my Christian neighbors, disregarding the good and only mentally cataloging the bad.


I was thinking about all this last night when I realized something interesting: though I definitely did have a skewed memory of the Christian communities I grew up in, one thing that is accurate is that none of my Christian friends or classmates ever offered to explain their faith to me. When that thought first crossed my mind I thought that that must be one of those things that I was misremembering. But I thought and thought about it and realized that, no, not a single friend, acquaintance, or even adult ever offered to help me learn more about Christianity.

For example: one recurring issue for me was that my family didn't own a Bible. When I would tag along with friends to religious activities the only thing I had to bring was a pocket-sized copy of the New Testament that some Christian group handed out at our elementary school (yes, it was a public school -- they weren't exactly sticklers on the whole separation of church and state thing). I had drawn pictures in it and torn out a few pages to use for arts and crafts projects, but it was all I had.

Since all of my friends were at least nominally Christian, I ended up at various Sunday school classes, vacation Bible schools, and even spent a few summers at a Christian camp. Every time with the little pocket New Testament, and every time I'd get comments ranging from mildly judgmental to downright scornful about the fact that I didn't have a real Bible. I probably would have gotten one with allowance money just to stop getting so much flack about it, but I didn't understand what was missing from my copy or why it was different from others, and I didn't dare ask since the topic seemed so charged with hostility to begin with.

So anyway, what struck me when I was thinking about all this last night is that nobody ever offered to give me a Bible. And when it would invariably come out that I didn't know what words like "Gospel" or "covenant" meant, children would whisper and frustrated teachers would sigh and move on. A couple times it came out (despite my best efforts to conceal it) that I actually did not have any idea who this "Jesus" person was. Incredibly, nobody ever told me. I've thought back on this over and over again to make sure that that's an accurate statement, and it is.


I realize now that what was going on is that these kids just took for granted that all families talked about Jesus at least a little bit in their homes, that everyone at least had a basic understanding of Christian concepts. So when they met me and saw that I didn't have a Bible and wasn't religious, the assumption was that I had made a conscious choice to reject Christianity. Though that was the case later in my life, at that age I just didn't know anything about it. Given their environment, I can see how it would be unfathomable to these children's young minds that one of their peers could have no idea what "God" was supposed to be, not know the first thing about Jesus, and not have a clue as to what on earth that crazy Bible book was all about.

Going through all this has got me thinking: what does this mean for me now that I am a Christian and a parent?

First of all, I want my children to be aware that, for better or worse, they are going to represent Christianity to people who aren't religious. Yes, in a perfect world a religion should be evaluated objectively on its claims and its doctrines, but the fact is that a lot of people are turned off (or on) to Christ based on the actions of Christians. Which is not to say my kids need to be perfect. I just want them to keep that in the back of their minds.

Second, and the thing I kind of struggle with, is what to tell them to say to friends who aren't religious. I don't want them to be pushy about their beliefs...but I would hate for them to never even offer to tell their non-religious friends more about it. Would I have become a Christian as a child if someone had done that for me? Who knows. But I certainly would have thought it was a kind gesture.


If anyone has any thoughts on this, I'd be interested to know. What do you tell your kids to do when they encounter other children who are not from religious families?

Choosing the date

I have a nice little story to share:

I went to the OB's office today to schedule the induction date. (Because of all the blood thinner/clotting disorder issues we'll have to induce labor. I don't love that idea, but agree with my doctors that it's the most reasonable route.) I knew from the beginning that we'd have to do an induction, so I was delighted when back in April I looked ahead on the calendar to see that the baby was due near the feast days of my confirmation saint, St. Monica (August 27), and her son, St. Augustine (August 28). In my crazier moments I've even wondered if it wasn't more than coincidence that this surprise pregnancy would come to term around those dates.

As I've said before, I feel particularly close to St. Monica and believe that I have seen proof of her intercessory prayers on multiple occasions this past year. I'm also enchanted with the writing of her son, St. Augustine, one of the greatest minds in Western history, and feel like I can particularly relate to him and the deep regret he felt for his life away from God. I'm always touched whenever I think of the heavy sorrow he felt for making fun of a friend who became Christian (who died shortly thereafter). I've done so many things like that, and it's somehow comforting to know that even the great Augustine of Hippo made those mistakes. Addressing God, he refers to himself as "I who once did not blush to profess before men all my blasphemies and to bark like a dog against you." Oh yeah -- been there, done that.

Not only can I relate to St. Augustine and admire his greatness as a Christian and as a thinker, but the fact that he his the son of my confirmation saint always serves to remind me of the beauty of my vocation: not only can I try to be a saint myself, but I can try to help my children become saints as well. Without the beautiful witness and tireless dedication of his mother, the man we know as a powerful force for God and Doctor of the Church, the great St. Augustine, may very well have lived out his life in anonymous debauchery.


Anyway, back to the induction: in my prayers over the past few weeks I've thrown in a few shout-outs to Sts. Augustine and Monica to ask for their prayers for a healthy baby and smooth delivery. I also made it known that I would really like for the baby to arrive on the feast day of St. Augustine, the 28th, and asked for help making that happen. While the feast day of St. Monica would be great, I thought the idea of having a child on my confirmation saint's child's feast day was incredibly inspiring.

So I was disappointed when my doctor and I sat in front of the calendar and, for a variety of reasons, he recommended dates later in August or early in September. We chose a random date in that range that had no significance to me, he noted it in his calendar, and we moved on to the exam. During the exam I had a fleeting thought that it was a bummer that my saints didn't come through for me this time.

No sooner had the thought crossed my mind when I heard the doctor say, "Wow, you're already two centimeters dilated and seventy percent effaced." He thought about it for a moment and announced, "We need to change the date." The only downside, he explained, was that by moving to a closer date we wouldn't be able to choose it ourselves. He'd just have to call the hospital and have them squeeze me in whatever day they had available.

He left the room for a while, came back in, and said, "It's going to have to be August 28th. Does that work for you?"

Sure does.

Bring on the rattlesnakes

My morning so far:

I am sitting here in my office on one of the very rare occasions that I am actually up before the kids. I was going to go through email but now find myself distracted by trying to one-up my neighbors with the name of my wireless network. When my internet connection crashed I went to mooch of one of their connections, and saw that on our street we have networks named GODZILLA, YETI, and YO MAMMA. I feel challenged. LINKSYS will no longer do. I am probably going to spend a very inappropriate amount of time on this endeavor.

Meanwhile, I hear a rustling sound coming from the other side of the room. As I said, the kids are asleep. We have no indoor pets. Anyone who just had some optimistic thought like, "Maybe it's just a housefly" is clearly a new reader. I am not psychic, I cannot tell you for sure what is making that noise. But it ain't no housefly.

After the recent centipede incident I commented to my husband that the only terrifying creatures that live in this area that have we have not seen in our house or on our porch are tarantulas and rattlesnakes. When I first stumbled into my office in a sleep-deprived haze this morning I was greeted by a tarantula sitting on the ledge outside my office window.

Bring on the rattlesnakes.

Finally getting it

One of the things I struggled with most in the conversion process was understanding why Jesus had to die for our sins -- or, more accurately, why that worked. I wrote a post detailing my utter mental density on that issue here.

The concept of sacrifice to make up for sin resonated on some deep level, as well as the fact that there is nothing I could offer that would ever make up for my sins against the all good God, as well the fact that only the perfect Christ himself would be a worthy enough sacrifice to bridge that enormous gap between us and God. Got all that.

But my mental capacities started to get maxed out, however, whenever I'd try to understand how on earth I got to buy in to Jesus' sacrificial death. I wasn't there. It happened without my consent or knowledge. It wasn't my sacrifice to give. On a gut level, it just seemed to have nothing to do with me. During Mass I'd gaze at the crucified Christ and feel terrible about what was done to him, but it all happened so long ago, in a far different time and place. It seemed foreign, like an event from a history book. How on earth could that momentous sacrifice be my own?


One of the most common answers I heard had to do with dying to ourselves, that when we crucify ourselves with Christ we can make his sacrifice our own. To be honest, I didn't fully understand that. To be even more honest, I still don't completely understand that. (I genius I am not. You'll have to bear with me.) Dying to ourselves to allow Christ to work through us does make sense, but it doesn't help me internalize the fact that Jesus' sacrifice was for me, for us.


This is one of those things that I really wanted to get -- I mean, really get. I wanted to be able to look at a crucifix like so many other devout Christians do and to know in my bones that this sacrifice was for me and my sins, and to be overwhelmed with regret for my transgressions and thankfulness for God's mercy. I wanted to it resonate on a gut level, without having to go through a mini discourse on theology in my head every time I saw a crucifix.

I didn't have much luck on this matter, and began to accept the possibility that it might not ever really resonate with me, that I might just need to live with a shaky intellectual understanding of the concept.

And then, in one of the greatest moments of my conversion experience, I got it. I finally got it.

I was at one of those Masses that seemed to be particularly filled with the presence of the Holy Spirit. I had just received Communion and was back in the pew, meditating on the Real Presence. I had only recently entered the Church so it was one of my first times receiving the Eucharist, and the taste and texture of the host were still new to me. And as I stared at the figure of the beaten, rejected, crucified Christ at the front of the church, a random factoid about ancient understanding of sacrifice popped into my head: I recalled reading somewhere that in ancient cultures such as those of the Old Testament, it was customary to eat a piece of the animal you had offered for sacrifice, that that sealed the deal.

As I thought of this I felt pieces of the host, still resting on my tongue, and looked again at the crucifix. Though I already knew on some intellectual level that what I was consuming was truly Christ, I went through the process of imagining in detail the gruesome prospect of actually taking a piece of this Man's flesh off of his body and putting it in my mouth. And suddenly, it seemed like my sacrifice. I was no longer a bystander, but a participant. I felt connected. I had eaten the flesh of the sacrificed victim. I had bought in.

And, for the first time in my life, I felt spontaneous, profound regret to God for my sins. I felt the sacrificed flesh in my mouth and thought, "Oh, my God, I am so sorry" -- I think I might have actually whispered it out loud. "I am so, so sorry that it had to come to this." I then felt like standing on top of the pew and jumping for joy at God's great love and mercy. He did this huge, huge thing -- for us! I was finally able to set aside my cold, intellectual thoughts and just feel my heart fill with gratitude for how very much God loves us. I no longer just knew it...I felt it.

Coumadin, clotting disorders and contraception -- oh my!

I saw my hematologist last week and he reminded me of something that I can't believe I'd forgotten about: that the whole Coumadin issue is going to be on the table again as soon as the baby's born.

For those of you who missed the fun last time (some highlights here and here), just a few weeks after I came to agree with Catholic teaching on birth control I developed a blood clot whose treatment requires a medicine that is completely incompatible with getting pregnant -- if you conceive while you're on it it is very likely that the child would have severe birth defects, if it lived at all. It's so urgent to prevent pregnancy while on this drug that many doctors counsel women to consider tubal ligation before they start on it. Not what you want to deal with when you've been trying to live by Church teaching for all of two weeks.

Anyhoo...it turns out that the clot was caused by a clotting disorder called Factor II (similar to the more common Factor V) which I miraculously inherited from both parents. The odds of that are about one in a zillion. It makes me wonder if my parents are telling me the real story behind how they met ("the truth is, Jen, we were at a family reunion..."). Especially that I have both copies of this gene, any kind of high estrogen state is risky and requires preventative blood thinners, hence the shots in the stomach every day during pregnancy.

What I had forgotten all about, however, is that breastfeeding also puts me in the risk category, and the shots I take now, while safe for pregnancy, are not safe for breastfeeding. Coumadin (also called Warfarin) is what I should take for while I'm breastfeeding...but Coumadin is incompatible with becoming pregnant.

So, I'm back to that dilemma where my options are:

1. Breastfeed, take Coumadin, disregard Church teaching and use contraception;
2. Breastfeed, take Coumadin, practice NFP very carefully;
3. Don't breastfeed, in which case I wouldn't need Coumadin;
4. Breastfeed, take Coumadin, and practice abstinence until weaning (which would probably mean weaning fairly early);
5. Breastfeed, don't take Coumadin, and accept the risk of a another DVT or pulmonary embolism (which are really dangerous, often fatal, and generally something you want to avoid);
6. Pray that there's some alternative I haven't thought of!
   

After a lot of prayer and consideration, the first two are out.

I really would never consider the first option. Not only has Catholic teaching on birth control gone from something I accepted on a purely intellectual level to become a personal, heartfelt belief, but there's also the very compelling point that was originally pointed out to me by commentors here on this site: no form of contraception is 100% effective. You can't count on anything but abstinence to completely avoid pregnancy -- and at least with NFP it's likely that you'd be aware of a pregnancy sooner and therefore could discontinue the medication immediately and mitigate the damage. So it's not like using contraception is the perfect, worry-free answer while taking an FDA Category X drug.

And after a lot of prayer and thinking I decided that option #2 is just not worth the risk. Even if I practiced NFP conservatively and the risk were small, the prospect of conceiving a child who would be severely harmed by a drug I was taking that I knew full well caused birth defects is just not something I can have on the table. It's not worth taking even a slight chance.

That leaves me with options 3-6, and a lot to think about. Frankly, I'm really holding out hope for #6. :)


So why am I writing a post about all this?

First of all, my commentors are always so full of good advice that I thought it would be interesting to hear what others have to say.

But the main reason I write this post is just to get it out there in case my story is helpful to anyone else. I've intentionally written it in a Google-friendly way and welcome emails from anyone else who faces a similar dilemma, even if you're reading this months or years after I originally wrote it. Back when I first faced this issue one of the most difficult parts of it was the lack of support and resources that were compatible with Catholic teaching.


So anyway, I have a lot to think about in these coming weeks. Although, with my new philosophy on worrying, I'm probably not going to think about it all that much. I'm going to pray for guidance and just see how I feel about it after the baby arrives, and trust that God will clearly lead me down the right path. Everything that happened last time only brought me closer to God and deepened my faith, so I believe that the only thing I really have to do is prayerfully seek God's will, and trust.

Friday Favorites for August 10

OK. I see that it is Sunday evening and not Friday. But I *thought* about doing this on Friday, so I'm still calling it Friday Favorites.

1. Memories of a kitchen: Lady Lydia has an enchanting post about her kitchen growing up. I loved the description of the old cast iron kitchen stove, but my favorite part was her observation about how her mother felt about the being there: "She, like other homemakers of the time, felt a dignity in the kitchen is difficult to describe...Even a teacher, a nurse, or a head of a corporation, does not carry the same aura of importance and service that these women had when they went into their kitchen."
   
   
2. Why an observant Jew understands sexuality better than Hugh Hefner: Wendy Shalit has some really thought-provoking points about modesty and prudery. It's a long article but really worth reading the whole thing. (via Burke to Kirk)
   
   
3. Color inspiration from great paintings: Whether you're redesigning your blog or your living room, here is a list of beautiful sample color schemes that have been taken from the some of history's great paintings. Very cool site.
   
   
4. The death of my brother...and hope: In yet another great post, Aimee Milburn recounts caring for her brother as he died of AIDS. It's incredibly touching and inspiring -- just be sure to have the Kleenex handy.
   
   
5. How top bloggers make money: Even though I don't care about making money from my blog, I thought this article was fascinating anyway (and it was a nice trip into Fantasy Land to imagine what it would be like to make tens of thousands of dollars per month from blogging). Click on the pictures at the bottom of the page for individual profiles.
   
   
6. "Where is that in the Bible?": Convert Aimee Milburn has another great post on sola scriptura. It's an impressively concise summary of the topic, a good read for aspiring apologists.
   
   
7. Wanted: Vocation and conversion stories: Gerald at The Cafeteria is Closed is looking for conversion and vocation stories. I've really enjoyed reading the ones he's posted so far. Send yours over!
   
   
8. Where is the soul?: Melanie B. has some good excerpts from an article that points out how the concept of nourishing students' souls has been almost completely eradicated from modern schools.
   
   
9. The cardinal who prayed kaddish for his mother: The Deacon's Bench has a touching tribute to France's Cardinal Lustiger and his amazing story.
   
   
10. The good stuff is in the sink: I loved this inspiring little article about realizing that "real living" isn't what happens when you get all the housework done. A good read for all moms to start off the week! (via Starry Sky Ranch)
    

Have a great week!

God's will and little decisions

As regular readers know, a big topic of interest for me is how to do God's will at every moment, every day. I spent a long time just trying to figure out how to discern what is and is not God's will (some posts on that here, here and here), and I think I finally have some clarity on that.

But a related issue -- and one that really demonstrates how overly literal and hard-headed I am -- is the question of doing God's will on a minute-by-minute basis. I mean, at what level of granularity am I supposed to seek God's will? Of course I seek his will for big decisions like adding a child to the family, what route my husband should go with his career, or how to educate my children. And I can even see prayerfully seeking God's will in terms of how to handle smaller daily matters like toddler temper tantrums, what music I choose to play this afternoon, or how to handle the Jehovah's Witnesses who show up when I'm in the middle of getting lunch ready.

But what about the really small stuff? Most of the decisions people make in a given day are minuscule things like whether to change lanes in traffic, which dish to put into the dishwasher first, or which foot to put in front of the other when you walk. In order to simply function there's no way I could pause to pray and turn to God before doing any of those types of tasks...so does that mean that I'm just on my own, that very small decisions are entirely up to me, outside the realm of things about which you can seek God's will? If so, where do you draw the line? (And...can you believe how neurotic and overly-analytical I am? Yes, I seriously get hung up on stuff like God's will for how to move my feet when I walk. Welcome to my world.)

I had all these questions rolling around in my head when I saw Aimee Milburn's wonderful, must-read post on the topic, and it was like an answered prayer. She addressed this very issue and, as usual, had some excellent insights on the subject. She writes:

We tend to think of God's will as always being specific actions, things He wants us to do, and so we need to discern them, what He would have us do. And there is truth to that. But we also have a lot of freedoms. God does not dictate every moment.

Exactly. So what are we neurotics supposed to do when we're stuck on whether or not God has a will for which fork we grab from the silverware drawer?

God is love. Therefore His will is love. So maybe "doing God's will" means in the first place not doing, but being: being like God, loving how God loves, and the things God loves. [...]

The key to Christian life is not so much doing a bunch of things...but being transformed into the likeness of God – which in turn informs what we do, and how we do it.

This makes so much sense. The more you purify yourself and become like God, the more all of your actions -- the big ones as well as the little ones -- will naturally fall in line with his will. As Aimee notes:

To be like God, and to love as God loves, requires great purification of our wills, because we love the wrong things. Sin itself is a type of love, an attachment to things other than God or the ways of God which we must be purified of. It takes effort -- but in time our effort is taken over by God, and our purification accomplished by God, as He draws us into closer union with Him.

The name of the game isn't obsessing about this or that individual decision, but rather keeping focused on the big picture, the entire aim of Christian life: to die to self and turn your whole life over to God. To eradicate selfishness desires and sinfulness and allow only pure, agape love to fill your heart. And once you do that, even what foot you put in front of the other will be the work of God.