So, you ask after reading that last entry, where's the problem??
Well, the years have certainly gotten better and deepened my faith. My husband even found God again after abandoning him so many years ago (years before we met, when his problems that ultimately led to our problems began). My husband was a cradle Catholic who just dropped the Faith when it couldn't help him overcome his "stuff". Shortly after I was confirmed, he went to Confession for the first time in over 20 years (!!) and began going to Mass regularly and receiving the Eucharist.
My children have all been baptised. My son received his First Holy Communion about a month after I was confirmed and loves to serve at the alter during Mass. My husband still needs to be confirmed, but we'll just keep praying on that one, shall we? Ok.
So, as wonderful as this new found Faith is, as great as the Church is, as much as I love Jesus with all my heart......I still have a hard time with prayer.
I believe every single Truth the Church teaches and I believe the infallibility of the Pope to lead us. I believe this is the One True Church left to us by Christ himself.
Here's where I end up in problems (I hope this doesn't seem silly, or petty, or weird, or, or, whatever. It's just how it is in my head).
God is all-knowing, omniscient, and omnipresent, everywhere. I believe this.
What does God need me to ask for that He doesn't already know? He knows everything that has every happened, is happening, and ever will happen. How is my teeny little human prayer going to change that? He already knows if it's going to "work out" or not. He already knows what the outcome is. He had already seen it happen. Does my prayer really make a difference?
Please don't think this keeps me from praying all the time or in every instance. It just, well, it hinders my prayer.
Someone says to me, "Please pray for my brother. He's in the hospital with an illness and we want him to get better." I can't figure out what to pray. I know that he is either going to get better because God already planned it that way, or he is not going to get better because that is God's plan. I usually just pray, "Thy Will be done."
Another instance where I feel hindered is when I have my own needs to pray about. Forget that completely. I can usually argue in my head and end up not praying anything because HE ALREADY KNOWS WHAT IS BEST FOR ME, even if I don't like it.
Part of my problem too, I know, is that I grew up knowing I didn't deserve anything. I deserved nothing good. Nothing happy. I was not good enough to ask for things and I wasn't good enough to have anything good happen to me anyway. (Thanks Mom & Dad!!)
Then I feel guilty. Guilty for not praying. Guilty for not doing what I should be.
I can usually pray when those prayers are the kind that revere Him or Mary. I have no problem with the Hail Mary, the Our Father.
It's the petitions I have a problem with. I feel guilty not praying, then I feel guilty asking for what I need. Like my needs matter to anyone, let alone Him. Then I feel bad for thinking that.
It's an endless circle I let myself get caught up in. Again, not that I never pray....I just have problems sometimes.
I remind myself that it is OK not to "feel" anything with prayer. I do not believe that Faith is directly connected to "feelings". I know that I usually need it the most when I "feel" nothing. I still go to Mass when I feel nothing. I still say the prayers. I still live my vocation. I have learned that "feelings"/emotions are not what we base our lives and our Faith on.
My faith is firmly rooted in belief. My marriage in firmly rooted in vows. I know that I will not always "feel" love for my husband in the lovey-dovey, teenager, hormone-crazed way I did when we first me (not that I was a teenager when we met, just using it as a descriptor). That doesn't mean there is no love, or that the love is meaningless. Love is shown in many ways, by living my vocation and he living his.
The same applies to my faith. I don't always "feel" the presence of God in my life. But I know He's there. I know He carries me when I am down. I know He is with me in my joys. I believe He won't abandon me. I believe He wants happiness for me. I believe He will help me, in ways I may not understand at times, to become a better disciple, a better mom, a better wife. I believe He wants me to pick up His Cross with Him and Carry It. I know that struggle is part of this life and will help purify me for the next. I don't always "feel" these things, I just know them.
I try to apply the same to praying. I don't feel like it. I don't usually feel anything profound. But I know I should.
*sigh* So that's it. I have problems praying. I don't do it enough, and I don't exactly get the point ('cause He's all-knowing). Anyone else have this problem?
Showing posts with label Conversion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Conversion. Show all posts
Friday, June 25, 2010
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Problem With Prayer - Intro
A while back I promised a post with this topic. I am not exactly in the same place I was that day....but I am going to try and get the gist of this off my mind.
As mentioned many times previously on the blog, I am new to faith. Not that I never had any before, I just had a very undefined view of God and my place in the whole spectrum of things. I believed in God, but not going to church. I wasn't anti-church, I just didn't go. I wasn't Protestant or Catholic, or "Non-Denominational Christian". I was just me.
Now that I have Faith, the true Faith, everything is a little different, but some things are the same. I don't take the Lord's name in vain nearly as much as I used to (it's something I take with me to Confession everysingletime, but it's getting better). I still have a hard time with prayer.
When I was a little kid, I used to "say my prayers" before bedtime. My dad (on some non-drunk night I am sure) taught us to say the "Now I lay me down to sleep" prayer and to say "God Bless.......(fill-in-the-blank)". I always felt guilty only asking God to bless the people I knew and cared about. So I devised a system to cover everyone at least once and then those I cared about a little bit more. It makes me laugh to think about it now. I would ask God to bless everyone in the whole world, then everyone who knew someone I knew, then everyone I knew, then everyone I knew and liked, then everyone I was related to, then my favorite relatives, then my mom, dad, and brother. Seems a little overkill and silly to me now. But to my little kid OCD brain it made sense.
My journey into the Faith began with a fall. My marriage was crumbling right before me and I had no idea what to do or how to hold on. My husband came to me one day and told me he didn't love me anymore. I had no idea what to do or where to go with the grief, sadness, disbelief, hurt, and anger I felt. I have serious abandonment issues as it is (my parents kind of sucked, I'll get to that in some other post) and this was the ONE person who had promised never to hurt me or leave me. And here he was, doing both.
I cried. I nursed my baby and cried. I couldn't do anything. I fed the kids. I fed me. I had no one to talk to. It took months before he actually got the truth out - and then I was even more crushed. I had no idea how we were supposed to fix this, IF we were supposed to fix it, how I would live without him, how I would survive mentally, emotionally, and even financially (yes, money crossed my mind, what can I say? I had just recently embraced being a SAHM and given up working).
We had just bought a new house (new to us) and I had heavily lied to get the loan approved. We moved from a big city where I had friends to a little hick-town where my husband's ex-wife lived (to make it easier to get the shared kids to school when I had a newborn). I had just pulled my kid out of public school in the middle of the year to homeschool him permanently (although we couldn't convince the ex to let the other kids out). I hardly knew anyone. Anyone, that is, except the mom of a friend of my son's who had just pulled her kids out of public school and inspired me to do the same.
I had been able to empty everything out to my BFF who lived farther away, but there was little comfort she was able to give me other than an ear to scream and cry to and a pair of arms to hold me when I visited her to cry.
The mom in town had something I didn't have. I remember the first time I talked to her about homeschooling and why would she do that? She said, "Well, we're very Catholic." Hmmm. I just thought the school sucked ass (sorry to be so blunt). I was very casual and said, "Oh, I find God out in the woods when I sit and listen while I'm hunting." I am a little embarrassed I said this now. Actually, I stole those words from my husband because I didn't really have any words for that comment.
Once we were both new homeschoolers living a block away from each other, we started talking a lot more. She could tell something was up. I cried all the time. I didn't want to be home. I'm pretty sure I was eating all the food in her house. She asked if she could do anything. Nope. She said, "You should talk to my friend, Fr. Eric." I said, "I am not Catholic." She said, "He doesn't care. He's my friend. We grew up together. He can help you."
I went to see Fr. Eric. He is, and remains, the most awesome priest I have every met. He GOT IT. He seriously got it, right away. He got my problems, my marriage, everything. He saw that all was not lost and told me God had a plan and wanted my marriage to survive. He looked at the little girl nursing at my breast and told me God obviously blessed our marriage with her and wanted us to stay together.
He gave me a rosary he acquired in the Holy Land that had been blessed by the Pope and taught me the prayers for it. He also gave me a couple of other books which, out of respect to my husband and our privacy, I am not going to share the names of, but they specifically gave me information about what I was going through. Who knew Catholics (and priests!) were so knowledgeable in this area. Ha!
I left his office thinking "Why isn't everyone Catholic? This priest is awesome." Of course, I met some other priests since then and realize that this particular man has a gift and I thank God he chose to share it with the Church. (Note here: I am not saying that this is the only good priest out there or that all other priests are mediocre. Not at all. Fr. Eric is just something special you don't see everyday.)
My new neighbor and homeschooling pal had a few more things to say to me in the coming weeks. "You should come to Mass." "Um, seriously, I am not Catholic." "Doesn't matter. You should just come." And I did.
In the nights where I couldn't sleep after I learned the truth from my husband, the Rosary was my only comfort to quiet the visions in my head causing me such grief. I prayed the Rosary until I fell asleep everynight for probably 3 months. I didn't know much about meditating on the mysteries or the Gospel....I just knew the Hail Mary's, Our Father's, and Glory Be's. I said them over and over and prayed for the images to go away.
I kept going to Mass too. Sometimes I would just sit in the narthex with my nursing baby and cry while my son sat with my friend's family.
I met with Fr. Eric again and cried there some more.
Somewhere in the next 6 months, things got a little better. I still don't know exactly what changed or how it happened (yes there was counseling, and talking, and seeing this priest, and a bunch of other stuff....but really, I can't tell you how it all worked anymore). Somewhere though, I was Catholic.
This was what I had always been searching for. Someone who would love me unconditionally. Someone who did love me and had loved me. Someone who knew me and still loved me. Someone who would never leave me. Somewhere I belonged. Truth. Love. Peace. I found them all with God.
I made the decision to join the Church at Easter. I prepared. I read. I prayed. I kept going to Mass.
My husband couldn't believe that out of "all the religions out there" I had to pick Catholicism. My BFF couldn't believe it either, but she was just happy God was part of the picture now.
We conceived another child in Dec 2007. Yet more proof that God wanted my marriage to survive.
I was confirmed at the Easter Vigil in 2008.
You are probably wondering, just as I am right now, how this all relates into a "problem with prayer". I am getting there. I certainly didn't think I'd go to all this detail (even though I have skipped A LOT of the details to shorten this up) about finding faith and my marriage issues, but apparently I needed to get it out. I am cutting this post short here and will resume (hopefully I'll start typing it right after this) with another post explaining the problem. I figured for you to get where I was coming from you needed/deserved a little background.
As mentioned many times previously on the blog, I am new to faith. Not that I never had any before, I just had a very undefined view of God and my place in the whole spectrum of things. I believed in God, but not going to church. I wasn't anti-church, I just didn't go. I wasn't Protestant or Catholic, or "Non-Denominational Christian". I was just me.
Now that I have Faith, the true Faith, everything is a little different, but some things are the same. I don't take the Lord's name in vain nearly as much as I used to (it's something I take with me to Confession everysingletime, but it's getting better). I still have a hard time with prayer.
When I was a little kid, I used to "say my prayers" before bedtime. My dad (on some non-drunk night I am sure) taught us to say the "Now I lay me down to sleep" prayer and to say "God Bless.......(fill-in-the-blank)". I always felt guilty only asking God to bless the people I knew and cared about. So I devised a system to cover everyone at least once and then those I cared about a little bit more. It makes me laugh to think about it now. I would ask God to bless everyone in the whole world, then everyone who knew someone I knew, then everyone I knew, then everyone I knew and liked, then everyone I was related to, then my favorite relatives, then my mom, dad, and brother. Seems a little overkill and silly to me now. But to my little kid OCD brain it made sense.
My journey into the Faith began with a fall. My marriage was crumbling right before me and I had no idea what to do or how to hold on. My husband came to me one day and told me he didn't love me anymore. I had no idea what to do or where to go with the grief, sadness, disbelief, hurt, and anger I felt. I have serious abandonment issues as it is (my parents kind of sucked, I'll get to that in some other post) and this was the ONE person who had promised never to hurt me or leave me. And here he was, doing both.
I cried. I nursed my baby and cried. I couldn't do anything. I fed the kids. I fed me. I had no one to talk to. It took months before he actually got the truth out - and then I was even more crushed. I had no idea how we were supposed to fix this, IF we were supposed to fix it, how I would live without him, how I would survive mentally, emotionally, and even financially (yes, money crossed my mind, what can I say? I had just recently embraced being a SAHM and given up working).
We had just bought a new house (new to us) and I had heavily lied to get the loan approved. We moved from a big city where I had friends to a little hick-town where my husband's ex-wife lived (to make it easier to get the shared kids to school when I had a newborn). I had just pulled my kid out of public school in the middle of the year to homeschool him permanently (although we couldn't convince the ex to let the other kids out). I hardly knew anyone. Anyone, that is, except the mom of a friend of my son's who had just pulled her kids out of public school and inspired me to do the same.
I had been able to empty everything out to my BFF who lived farther away, but there was little comfort she was able to give me other than an ear to scream and cry to and a pair of arms to hold me when I visited her to cry.
The mom in town had something I didn't have. I remember the first time I talked to her about homeschooling and why would she do that? She said, "Well, we're very Catholic." Hmmm. I just thought the school sucked ass (sorry to be so blunt). I was very casual and said, "Oh, I find God out in the woods when I sit and listen while I'm hunting." I am a little embarrassed I said this now. Actually, I stole those words from my husband because I didn't really have any words for that comment.
Once we were both new homeschoolers living a block away from each other, we started talking a lot more. She could tell something was up. I cried all the time. I didn't want to be home. I'm pretty sure I was eating all the food in her house. She asked if she could do anything. Nope. She said, "You should talk to my friend, Fr. Eric." I said, "I am not Catholic." She said, "He doesn't care. He's my friend. We grew up together. He can help you."
I went to see Fr. Eric. He is, and remains, the most awesome priest I have every met. He GOT IT. He seriously got it, right away. He got my problems, my marriage, everything. He saw that all was not lost and told me God had a plan and wanted my marriage to survive. He looked at the little girl nursing at my breast and told me God obviously blessed our marriage with her and wanted us to stay together.
He gave me a rosary he acquired in the Holy Land that had been blessed by the Pope and taught me the prayers for it. He also gave me a couple of other books which, out of respect to my husband and our privacy, I am not going to share the names of, but they specifically gave me information about what I was going through. Who knew Catholics (and priests!) were so knowledgeable in this area. Ha!
I left his office thinking "Why isn't everyone Catholic? This priest is awesome." Of course, I met some other priests since then and realize that this particular man has a gift and I thank God he chose to share it with the Church. (Note here: I am not saying that this is the only good priest out there or that all other priests are mediocre. Not at all. Fr. Eric is just something special you don't see everyday.)
My new neighbor and homeschooling pal had a few more things to say to me in the coming weeks. "You should come to Mass." "Um, seriously, I am not Catholic." "Doesn't matter. You should just come." And I did.
In the nights where I couldn't sleep after I learned the truth from my husband, the Rosary was my only comfort to quiet the visions in my head causing me such grief. I prayed the Rosary until I fell asleep everynight for probably 3 months. I didn't know much about meditating on the mysteries or the Gospel....I just knew the Hail Mary's, Our Father's, and Glory Be's. I said them over and over and prayed for the images to go away.
I kept going to Mass too. Sometimes I would just sit in the narthex with my nursing baby and cry while my son sat with my friend's family.
I met with Fr. Eric again and cried there some more.
Somewhere in the next 6 months, things got a little better. I still don't know exactly what changed or how it happened (yes there was counseling, and talking, and seeing this priest, and a bunch of other stuff....but really, I can't tell you how it all worked anymore). Somewhere though, I was Catholic.
This was what I had always been searching for. Someone who would love me unconditionally. Someone who did love me and had loved me. Someone who knew me and still loved me. Someone who would never leave me. Somewhere I belonged. Truth. Love. Peace. I found them all with God.
I made the decision to join the Church at Easter. I prepared. I read. I prayed. I kept going to Mass.
My husband couldn't believe that out of "all the religions out there" I had to pick Catholicism. My BFF couldn't believe it either, but she was just happy God was part of the picture now.
We conceived another child in Dec 2007. Yet more proof that God wanted my marriage to survive.
I was confirmed at the Easter Vigil in 2008.
You are probably wondering, just as I am right now, how this all relates into a "problem with prayer". I am getting there. I certainly didn't think I'd go to all this detail (even though I have skipped A LOT of the details to shorten this up) about finding faith and my marriage issues, but apparently I needed to get it out. I am cutting this post short here and will resume (hopefully I'll start typing it right after this) with another post explaining the problem. I figured for you to get where I was coming from you needed/deserved a little background.
Monday, June 7, 2010
I Need A Chick
This is what I told my husband yesterday in the midst of an angry breakdown. I just need a chick to talk to.
It wasn't that he wasn't good enough. He's just not a woman (thank God!). And there was no one to talk to. And I fell apart.
My BFF (ha! I love using "in" language) has breast cancer. Not that that particular problem would keep us from talking, she actually has relatives visiting and I just don't want to bother her. And I have to mention the cancer because I am concerned I will lose her. There. I said it.
My other friend never seems to be able to talk when I call.
My best knitting buddy ever is moving in two weeks 2 1/2 hours north of my house. Craptacular.
We went to Mass at a parish closer to our house this weekend. 20 minutes to the church vs. 1 1/2 hours to our regular parish. It was awful. Let me elaborate:
How many EMC do you need when there are only 100 people in attendance (they had 8!!)?
Why were the EMC's consuming the host at the same time as the priest did (yes, he actually handed it out to them before he consumed it himself)?
Why didn't we sing the "Alleluia" before the Gospel? Or any of the other things we normally sing at a Sunday Mass (all were spoken, like a weekday Mass)?
We were out of there in thirty minutes. 3-0. On The Feast Day of Corpus Christi.
I left wondering if I attended a valid Mass. I also was so very distracted by the lack of reverence that I found myself unable to really participate in the Mass. I prayed afterward, in front of the Tabernacle, and asked Jesus to forgive me for being distracted and to forgive those in the parish for their disrespect. I asked him to help me be closer to him even when I don't "feel" like I am.
And then I had the shittiest day ever.
I got in a big pissing match with my husband over his attention to our biological children vs his biological children. I was very much picking a fight for I-don't-know-why. Then I tried to call somebody to just get it off my chest and there was no one.
My pelvis was heavy and hurting all day. I tried really hard to talk to my husband (when there wasn't any women available) about this and he just said, "Well duh. You're pregnant." I KNOW I"M PREGNANT. HELLO! I just needed to talk to someone (a chick, a mom) who would understand that even though I was very much excited for this new life within me, it still sucks feeling like your insides are going to fall out your bottom all day. It sucks having another human have the hiccups near your butt. Your butt shouldn't be shaking from the inside. Seriously.
I ended up driving into the big city anyway later that evening to get groceries. I calmed down. There was still no one to talk to. I tried calling my husband. And get this, he said "For someone who has so much Faith, maybe you should just let Him take care of it for a while." Can you believe it?! The nerve. Oh wait a minute. He was totally right. So I stopped trying to call every (three people) person I could and just sat in the quiet. It wasn't working. So I put on Relevant Radio (do they have that where you are? Awesome, Catholic radio). That was better.
There are still issues, and for some reason I am not sleeping at night. But the anger is out of me.
And now, to back-track a little, what do I do about the Mass? Do you just go somewhere else (I will)? Am I supposed to say something? Do I call the priest and (respectfully) ask him about my concerns? Do I write him a letter about my experience? Do I write to the Bishop (who is at my regular parish)? As a "young" Catholic, I am a little lost about what would be appropriate. I just thought the whole thing was weird (and distracting) (and irreverent). My husband thought it was just different and thinks I need to let it go.
Sorry not to have a point here.....I just needed to vent and ramble. Thanks. Sometimes I just need a chick. Which is why I have bloggers (ok, I know at least one of you is a guy, my apologies). My husband actually asked me the other night why I have so many blogs bookmarked on my phone. It's because I love you guys. You keep me sane.
It wasn't that he wasn't good enough. He's just not a woman (thank God!). And there was no one to talk to. And I fell apart.
My BFF (ha! I love using "in" language) has breast cancer. Not that that particular problem would keep us from talking, she actually has relatives visiting and I just don't want to bother her. And I have to mention the cancer because I am concerned I will lose her. There. I said it.
My other friend never seems to be able to talk when I call.
My best knitting buddy ever is moving in two weeks 2 1/2 hours north of my house. Craptacular.
We went to Mass at a parish closer to our house this weekend. 20 minutes to the church vs. 1 1/2 hours to our regular parish. It was awful. Let me elaborate:
How many EMC do you need when there are only 100 people in attendance (they had 8!!)?
Why were the EMC's consuming the host at the same time as the priest did (yes, he actually handed it out to them before he consumed it himself)?
Why didn't we sing the "Alleluia" before the Gospel? Or any of the other things we normally sing at a Sunday Mass (all were spoken, like a weekday Mass)?
We were out of there in thirty minutes. 3-0. On The Feast Day of Corpus Christi.
I left wondering if I attended a valid Mass. I also was so very distracted by the lack of reverence that I found myself unable to really participate in the Mass. I prayed afterward, in front of the Tabernacle, and asked Jesus to forgive me for being distracted and to forgive those in the parish for their disrespect. I asked him to help me be closer to him even when I don't "feel" like I am.
And then I had the shittiest day ever.
I got in a big pissing match with my husband over his attention to our biological children vs his biological children. I was very much picking a fight for I-don't-know-why. Then I tried to call somebody to just get it off my chest and there was no one.
My pelvis was heavy and hurting all day. I tried really hard to talk to my husband (when there wasn't any women available) about this and he just said, "Well duh. You're pregnant." I KNOW I"M PREGNANT. HELLO! I just needed to talk to someone (a chick, a mom) who would understand that even though I was very much excited for this new life within me, it still sucks feeling like your insides are going to fall out your bottom all day. It sucks having another human have the hiccups near your butt. Your butt shouldn't be shaking from the inside. Seriously.
I ended up driving into the big city anyway later that evening to get groceries. I calmed down. There was still no one to talk to. I tried calling my husband. And get this, he said "For someone who has so much Faith, maybe you should just let Him take care of it for a while." Can you believe it?! The nerve. Oh wait a minute. He was totally right. So I stopped trying to call every (three people) person I could and just sat in the quiet. It wasn't working. So I put on Relevant Radio (do they have that where you are? Awesome, Catholic radio). That was better.
There are still issues, and for some reason I am not sleeping at night. But the anger is out of me.
And now, to back-track a little, what do I do about the Mass? Do you just go somewhere else (I will)? Am I supposed to say something? Do I call the priest and (respectfully) ask him about my concerns? Do I write him a letter about my experience? Do I write to the Bishop (who is at my regular parish)? As a "young" Catholic, I am a little lost about what would be appropriate. I just thought the whole thing was weird (and distracting) (and irreverent). My husband thought it was just different and thinks I need to let it go.
Sorry not to have a point here.....I just needed to vent and ramble. Thanks. Sometimes I just need a chick. Which is why I have bloggers (ok, I know at least one of you is a guy, my apologies). My husband actually asked me the other night why I have so many blogs bookmarked on my phone. It's because I love you guys. You keep me sane.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Personal Growth
My husband brought home a rubbermaid tub/bin of clothes yesterday from our old house (on the market, but not sold). The clothes inside were mostly mine. They were from many years ago, like when we were first married.
Lots has changed since then.
In the "growth" department I would say, "Yes. I have grown." Physically for "sho". Seriously. Who can wear a size 31x32 pair of jeans after 3 kids?! (If you can, just shut up.) Camp shorts in a size 8. 8!! And shirts in the mediums galore. I don't think I can even put one boob in a medium now. ;)
Watching the kids look at the clothes was fun too. Phrases like, "Mom, why would anyone ever wear leather pants!?" abounded. They were followed closely by, "Hey! I can wear that!" We did give quite a few of the items to the children. Of course, I had to torment myself (really, it was to make everyone laugh, myself included) and attempt to try some of the items on. Be glad we didn't take pictures or you'd have a wet tushy from peeing your pants.
But in the real area of personal growth, I can see that as a moral human being, a Catholic, a Christian, a mom, a wife, and a woman, I have grown a lot.
It is amazing to me the kind of things I found appropriate to wear, in public or private, once upon a time. We found some old tattoo shop shirts in the bin. These were free t-shirts the tattoo shop owner had screen-printed up with his shops logo and usually some kind of other thing on it. I wore them everywhere. He had a great ring of free advertising going on with these things. I would cut the sleeves off mine, cause I have sleeves of tattoos, and the tight t-shirt collar so they would be more comfortable and show off my ink to the fullest.
The two shirts in question were special shirts that were made up for a tattoo show (Yes, there are tattoo shows/conventions all over the place. There are also tattoo magazines, and the photographers usually come to the shows. There's contests, etc., artists, and lots of other stuff.) in the fall of 2005. The said the name of the tattoo shop and "Tattoo Party Crew" on them. They also had a "drawing" (not a photo) of a woman, with a tattoo, on them. Except,.....she was standing, facing away from the viewer, wearing only a pair of thong underwear and high heels. She had a tattoo over her lower back.
Now, I'm not a prude by any means. But this certainly falls into the "inappropriate for my 9 year old son to be staring at" category any day of the week, especially yesterday. My husband had the slight of hand to pull it away before any of the kids saw it. Of course, I'm sure they saw plenty of it in 2005, since they were all around then and I wore it ALL THE TIME.
I guess I am just happy that I can see that shirt for what it really is - a distraction. It's another one of those things out there to distract us from what's really important and to desensitize us to immorality. I know, I know......maybe I'm making a big deal about this. "It's just a shirt." Right? Well, no. It's a lifestyle that I am proud to say I don't buy into any more. I don't think it's ok to walk around with a half-naked chick on my chest (like anyone needs more help seeing where that is). I also don't think it's ok to desensitize my children to nudity/pornography at every turn. Seeing me, their mother, go from the bathroom to the bedroom with no towel is a far cry from seeing a chick who looks like she works on a pole, if you catch my drift.
My point here is, I feel I have experienced some personal growth in the past four years, and I am grateful. It's wonderful to realize that it's ok to change and it's ok to let the past be. I don't have to mourn the life I had before but can look to it as a place where I have been and grown from. Feels good.
Oh, and we crumpled up the shirts and threw them away. Somethings are not even appropriate to give away.
Lots has changed since then.
In the "growth" department I would say, "Yes. I have grown." Physically for "sho". Seriously. Who can wear a size 31x32 pair of jeans after 3 kids?! (If you can, just shut up.) Camp shorts in a size 8. 8!! And shirts in the mediums galore. I don't think I can even put one boob in a medium now. ;)
Watching the kids look at the clothes was fun too. Phrases like, "Mom, why would anyone ever wear leather pants!?" abounded. They were followed closely by, "Hey! I can wear that!" We did give quite a few of the items to the children. Of course, I had to torment myself (really, it was to make everyone laugh, myself included) and attempt to try some of the items on. Be glad we didn't take pictures or you'd have a wet tushy from peeing your pants.
But in the real area of personal growth, I can see that as a moral human being, a Catholic, a Christian, a mom, a wife, and a woman, I have grown a lot.
It is amazing to me the kind of things I found appropriate to wear, in public or private, once upon a time. We found some old tattoo shop shirts in the bin. These were free t-shirts the tattoo shop owner had screen-printed up with his shops logo and usually some kind of other thing on it. I wore them everywhere. He had a great ring of free advertising going on with these things. I would cut the sleeves off mine, cause I have sleeves of tattoos, and the tight t-shirt collar so they would be more comfortable and show off my ink to the fullest.
The two shirts in question were special shirts that were made up for a tattoo show (Yes, there are tattoo shows/conventions all over the place. There are also tattoo magazines, and the photographers usually come to the shows. There's contests, etc., artists, and lots of other stuff.) in the fall of 2005. The said the name of the tattoo shop and "Tattoo Party Crew" on them. They also had a "drawing" (not a photo) of a woman, with a tattoo, on them. Except,.....she was standing, facing away from the viewer, wearing only a pair of thong underwear and high heels. She had a tattoo over her lower back.
Now, I'm not a prude by any means. But this certainly falls into the "inappropriate for my 9 year old son to be staring at" category any day of the week, especially yesterday. My husband had the slight of hand to pull it away before any of the kids saw it. Of course, I'm sure they saw plenty of it in 2005, since they were all around then and I wore it ALL THE TIME.
I guess I am just happy that I can see that shirt for what it really is - a distraction. It's another one of those things out there to distract us from what's really important and to desensitize us to immorality. I know, I know......maybe I'm making a big deal about this. "It's just a shirt." Right? Well, no. It's a lifestyle that I am proud to say I don't buy into any more. I don't think it's ok to walk around with a half-naked chick on my chest (like anyone needs more help seeing where that is). I also don't think it's ok to desensitize my children to nudity/pornography at every turn. Seeing me, their mother, go from the bathroom to the bedroom with no towel is a far cry from seeing a chick who looks like she works on a pole, if you catch my drift.
My point here is, I feel I have experienced some personal growth in the past four years, and I am grateful. It's wonderful to realize that it's ok to change and it's ok to let the past be. I don't have to mourn the life I had before but can look to it as a place where I have been and grown from. Feels good.
Oh, and we crumpled up the shirts and threw them away. Somethings are not even appropriate to give away.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
I Have A Blog??
Surely you jest.
This cannot be my blog. Surely not - for there is emphasis on the my. We all know I cannot do that.
Oh, but wait. I am on actual internet. Internet that does not require me to *star* and CAPITALIZE things I want to accentuate.
I thank my dear friend, laurazim, for the use of her PC.
Now......for the important stuff.
I am hopefully going to update my sidebar as soon as I am done with this post. There are many a wonderful, entertaining, informative blog I have added to my bookmarks on the crackberry that I would like to add here.
An update was requested, I believe by fellow blogger linked above in a comment on my last post.
~~Rural living is very special.
This cannot be my blog. Surely not - for there is emphasis on the my. We all know I cannot do that.
Oh, but wait. I am on actual internet. Internet that does not require me to *star* and CAPITALIZE things I want to accentuate.
I thank my dear friend, laurazim, for the use of her PC.
Now......for the important stuff.
I am hopefully going to update my sidebar as soon as I am done with this post. There are many a wonderful, entertaining, informative blog I have added to my bookmarks on the crackberry that I would like to add here.
An update was requested, I believe by fellow blogger linked above in a comment on my last post.
~~Rural living is very special.
- My gas and electric bill are now separate
- In fact, I have to order the gas, AND it's propane
- The people who work at the propane place are rather dense
- I have a septic system requiring me to call and have our waste pumped away
- Weird
- Garbage must be driven in to "town" on Saturdays, they do not pick it up
- $2 per bag! But "recycle" is free
- We are now recycling for the first time ever
- When the wind blows and you live in the middle of nowhere.....will anyone hear you scream?
- It's nice when you have a cop on hand to escort you into the house in the middle of the night with his 9mm when there are rabid horses stalking you from the neighboring field
- Wind storms can knock the electricity out for hours at a time in the middle of the night
- Not so great when your husband needs electricity to run his CPAP machine so he can rest
Other than that all is well.
Ok, maybe not.
~~A devastating tragedy has afflicted our family over the last few months. One of my step-daughters has been the victim of a sexual assault. It has waged a spiritual battle in our family. Not only has it caused much stress for her, but my husband is beside himself with grief, guilt, and sadness.
Trying to deal with the consequences of the circumstances has caused even more hardship in our family. We are fighting tooth and nail to gain primary physical placement of our daughter. Her mother obviously opposes this. We have shared placement of both the girls equally for 7 years. However, with the assault having taken place in the township (less than 3000 people) where her mother lives, and under her mother's care, we have decided she would be physically and emotionally safer under or care and OUT of that school district.
The hardship of having to travel back and forth to the courthouse and lawyer's office with my babies in the car has begun to drive me to the brink of insanity. Not to mention the constant vigil answering the phone calls between the police, lawyer, social workers, counselor, school officials, and her mother. I can't even stand it.
Unfortunately for our daughter, her mother doesn't really see the "problem". Some comments we have gotten from her (and I am not exaggerating or joking here):
"We should just put her on birth control."
"I don't know why you feel so sorry for [her], she wanted this to happen."
"No one will talk about it. They'll be over it soon."
"If you tell the cops it will just cause everyone a lot more trauma."
"Kids will be kids."
Seriously. She's 13. The "offender", as the District Attorney is calling him, is 18. Yep. And her mother sees no problem. Didn't want us to go to the police. Obviously, getting a predator off the streets would be the last thing on our mind. Yeah, especially since my husband, her father, is a COP. That is the last thing we'd do. Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight.
Oh, and the fact that we weren't told about it as soon as she (the mother) found out - that doesn't bother us at all. No really, it's totally fine for you to wait 10 days to tell us. And then only tell us because our daughter was "supposed to tell" us, but didn't. Of course you should leave it up to a 13 year old victim of a crime to inform her father of the crime. You shouldn't bother picking up the phone, being the adult, and telling him yourself. Nope. You acted like a completely competent, normal, sane parent.
Oh wait. There's more. When he confessed, which he did do after we took our daughter to the police to tell her story, he also confessed to doing this to no less than 3 other girls. Three. Other. Girls. Age of consent in the state I reside in is 16. This miscreant, this fiend, wasn't in a relationship with any of these girls. Not that status would make the act of his addiction OK - but it would explain more. This creep was preying on young girls that were friends of his little sister. Genius. Or scary. Take your pick.
There are more details than I care to recall. And anyway, this is not the appropriate medium for those details. If you know me, ask me sometime about how eye opening it was to read the police report. I still have not shared it with my husband. He knows we have it, but feels it prudent not to lay his eyes upon it.
This is the real reason I haven't blogged much. Well, that and the stubbornness on my part to take the time to blog from my blackberry.
Anything else (other than my very long rant)?
~~Oh yes. I have been knitting - a sweater and a pair of socks. The former for my husband. The latter for the Boy. Did you know that when you are knitting a circumference of 59" a skein of yarn only makes 4" of height? So even though I've been knitting my butt off, the sweater remains a mere 7" in depth. It will be at least 20" to the armpits, then there are two sleeves, and the yoke/shoulders. I only have 7 skeins of yarn. I'm going to need more yarn. That translates to, "I get to visit the knitting store again soon!" Woot-woot for me!
The socks will probably be done first. :P
~~Flower is the cutest 3 year old ever. She says super cute things and does super cute things.
She is constantly putting all her "babies" to sleep all over the house. She covers them with whatever is handy: a washcloth, a baby wipe, a clean pair of underwear from the laundry basket. You know, whatever looks like a blanket. Her "babies" can also be whatever's handy: a remote, a hairbrush, her "duke", a shoe.
When she wants to be picked up she says, "I want to pick YOU uppie." I ask, "You want to pick ME uppie?" "Yesh," is her answer. Really.
~~Lovey can walk. And run. He has an opinion. He is sick of his sister beating him up. He has a love for steps and a fear for NOTHING. He has a set of curls across the nape of his neck that I could just eat up.
~~If you do not care to hear of fertility issues GO TO THE NEXT SECTION.
I am fertile again. How do I know this? I got my period. For. Ten. Days. 10. T-E-N. It was looooong.
It wasn't that unpleasant, just never ending.
I had to wash pads 4 times.
Yes, I use cloth menstrual pads. No, it's not gross. Yes, I wash them in my washing machine where all my other laundry is done. No, it doesn't bother me. I've used cloth diapers extensively. They feel better against my skin. They are pretty and soft. They make me feel happy and lovely at a time when most likely I would be feeling icky and run down. Organic bamboo velour - look it up.
~~I have been asked (and I may have said something about this already, so forgive me) to be the Confirmation Sponsor for a dear friend's daughter! It was the daughter's Guardian Angel (she tells me) that thought of me. I guess I never expected that I would ever be considered for such an honor as a Sponsor or a Godparent, etc., being that I am myself a new convert.
It's very cool. I am a little nervous as to my exact role and what things I should be doing for her. For now, I pray. I know I can do that. My sponsor was really awesome about answering questions about the Faith, bringing me little presents at important ceremonies throughout the year leading up to my confirmation, sending me cards here and there in the mail with inspirational messages, etc. I hope I can live up to the call.
~~Lawyers are EXPENSIVE. Really. I wish I could charge $200/hour on the phone and $300/hour in person. Although he is very good. But it would be awful expensive for my children to have a mother if I charged those kind of rates. Can you imagine - "Mom, can I ask you a question?" "I don't know, you got 10 bucks?"
~~Cops don't make a lot of money. It's been a year at this cop's salary and we have finally exhausted our savings. It's down to $5. We are praying for a miracle.
~~I am very much looking forward to Mass tomorrow. All Saint's Day beats out Halloween any day in my book.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Catholic = Universal
cath⋅o⋅lic /ˈkæθəlɪk, ˈkæθlɪk/ Show Spelled Pronunciation [kath-uh-lik, kath-lik] Show IPA Pronunciation
–adjective 1. broad or wide-ranging in tastes, interests, or the like; having sympathies with all; broad-minded; liberal.
2. universal in extent; involving all; of interest to all.
3. pertaining to the whole Christian body or church.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Origin:
1300–1350; ME < L catholicus < Gk katholikós general, equiv. to kathól(ou) universally (contr. of phrase katà hólou according to the whole; see cata-, holo- ) + -ikos -ic
The word "catholic" has, in our society, come to mean only those who are members of the Catholic Church. What I find interesting as a convert to the Catholic faith is that the word catholic means "universal".
The more I research and study the origins of the Church, the more I realize just how universal it is.
The Catholic Church IS THE CHURCH. Before about 1000 A.D. there was only 1 (one) denomination of the Christian faith - catholicism. Either you were Christian, and belonged to the Church, or you weren't. The bible, which so many protestant denominations quote often and liberally, would NOT EXIST without the Catholic Church. The Church kept the works of the books of the bible together, protected their sacred nature, and sheilded them from the hands of those who would otherwise wish to destroy them for over 1000 years.
I am eager to read "The Fathers of the Church" which I hear will help me to fully understand the history of Christianity and the origins of my faith. I've heard that anyone who reads this cannot help but believe, and know, they are Catholics.
~H
–adjective 1. broad or wide-ranging in tastes, interests, or the like; having sympathies with all; broad-minded; liberal.
2. universal in extent; involving all; of interest to all.
3. pertaining to the whole Christian body or church.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Origin:
1300–1350; ME < L catholicus < Gk katholikós general, equiv. to kathól(ou) universally (contr. of phrase katà hólou according to the whole; see cata-, holo- ) + -ikos -ic
The word "catholic" has, in our society, come to mean only those who are members of the Catholic Church. What I find interesting as a convert to the Catholic faith is that the word catholic means "universal".
The more I research and study the origins of the Church, the more I realize just how universal it is.
The Catholic Church IS THE CHURCH. Before about 1000 A.D. there was only 1 (one) denomination of the Christian faith - catholicism. Either you were Christian, and belonged to the Church, or you weren't. The bible, which so many protestant denominations quote often and liberally, would NOT EXIST without the Catholic Church. The Church kept the works of the books of the bible together, protected their sacred nature, and sheilded them from the hands of those who would otherwise wish to destroy them for over 1000 years.
I am eager to read "The Fathers of the Church" which I hear will help me to fully understand the history of Christianity and the origins of my faith. I've heard that anyone who reads this cannot help but believe, and know, they are Catholics.
~H
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
On Family and Baptism
As a new Catholic, and a "new" mother once again, it is time for Baptism. My son needs to be brought into the Church and receive his citizenship in the Kingdom of God. As a parent it is my duty to arrange this matter, choosing God-parents who will be united to our family and child for eternity. The process is close to complete now that my boy is 3 months old (already! 3 months!).
The Sacrament of Baptism is one that should be relatively easy to set up, or so one would think. Other parents I know have had God-parents chosen for their children by the middle of pregnancy, at the latest, and it seems we are the last Catholics on the block to do so. I have had a very difficult time trying to figure out who I can ask. I have very important people in my life, but not very many that are Catholic, which of course is a requirement of aforementioned needed God-parents. Why is this so easy for everyone and not for me?
Some background maybe?
My family of origin was not what I would call Christian, at least not what I now believe to be a Christian. Not that we didn't believe in God or Jesus Christ. We did what I saw many of my fellow Americans doing - we went to church on Sundays to warm the benches and then lived the remaining 167 hours of the week as if we believed there was no God or at least that we had no knowledge that there could be one.
I was baptised and have God-parents, my Aunt and Uncle, whom I love and adore to this day. But I feel like my baptism was more of a "gotta do it b/c everybody does this when they have a baby and it's the right thing to do people, we don't want to seem like we can't keep up with the Jones, what will people say" reason rather than being the joyous celebration of God's Love that it should be. My brother, born 16 months after me, was never baptised. Guess life was just to busy for another meaningless celebration.
And that, friends, was what Church and God were to my family of origin. Meaningless. We never prayed. We never talked about God. We had this big white bible sitting on an end table in our living room that someone had given my parents for their wedding. It had some pictures in the middle of it. Now I know those "pictures" were actually prints of some of the wonderful Christian artwork to come out of the last 2,000 years. From those pictures, because of course I couldn't read yet, I gained my own idea of who God was and how it all worked. (More on that later.)
My baptism never really signified anything to my parents and therefore they never transferred any great significance of it to me. My God-parents certainly are important to me, but it's because they're my Aunt and Uncle, not so much the God part. That part was never really talked about, nor made important. Twenty-plus years later I find myself having my 2 children baptized, myself being confirmed a Catholic and receiving my First Holy Communion. It was beautiful and I chose for my childrens' God-parents a couple who was very instrumental in planting all the seeds for my conversion.
Here I am now, a Catholic as God intended, with another baby. And. No. Catholic. "Family". Save aforementioned older childrens' God-parents.
How do you choose God-parents? Who is appropriate? My biggest issue was feeling like I didn't know anyone "well" enough to ask them to be united with our family. Do I just ask someone we know from Church? Do I ask someone in our homeschool group? What about my dearest friend who is, unfortunately, not Catholic? How do I include her in something as important as this? Coming from about as far not Catholic as I did growing up I felt so uncomfortable asking anyone to step into this part of our life. I didn't want to make anyone feel obligated, and in my heart I knew that it should mean more to me than it felt like it was meaning.
So what did I do? What any other good Catholic would do - I prayed about it. I prayed a whole lot. I prayed towards the end of my pregnancy and a LOT MORE after My Lovey was born.
Finally, I just asked God to show me who was supposed to be his God-parents. Shortly after I asked that, a very important person who I was growing in friendship with, who is also a homeschooling mom, who also has many (7) kids, who also attends our parish, and whom I greatly respect asked me, "Have you had that baby baptized yet?" "No," I replied. "Oh, good! I thought I missed it. I don't want to miss seeing *******'s baptism!"
Could He have been a little more obvious?
So, after trying to catch this wonderful couple (my friend and her husband) at Mass for 4 weeks, I finally got the chance to ask her at our last MNO (Mother's Night Out). So nervous I was. Is this really OK? Maybe I shouldn't? Will she think it's out of line for me to ask her? I haven't known them that long. I had no reason to worry. She, of course, said yes and she'd, we'll they'd, be honored. Just like God planned. Yes!!! I am so happy. It wasn't too hard to ask, and I am so grateful to have this wonderful family be a part of our lives.
Now to plan the actual ceremony.............
~H
The Sacrament of Baptism is one that should be relatively easy to set up, or so one would think. Other parents I know have had God-parents chosen for their children by the middle of pregnancy, at the latest, and it seems we are the last Catholics on the block to do so. I have had a very difficult time trying to figure out who I can ask. I have very important people in my life, but not very many that are Catholic, which of course is a requirement of aforementioned needed God-parents. Why is this so easy for everyone and not for me?
Some background maybe?
My family of origin was not what I would call Christian, at least not what I now believe to be a Christian. Not that we didn't believe in God or Jesus Christ. We did what I saw many of my fellow Americans doing - we went to church on Sundays to warm the benches and then lived the remaining 167 hours of the week as if we believed there was no God or at least that we had no knowledge that there could be one.
I was baptised and have God-parents, my Aunt and Uncle, whom I love and adore to this day. But I feel like my baptism was more of a "gotta do it b/c everybody does this when they have a baby and it's the right thing to do people, we don't want to seem like we can't keep up with the Jones, what will people say" reason rather than being the joyous celebration of God's Love that it should be. My brother, born 16 months after me, was never baptised. Guess life was just to busy for another meaningless celebration.
And that, friends, was what Church and God were to my family of origin. Meaningless. We never prayed. We never talked about God. We had this big white bible sitting on an end table in our living room that someone had given my parents for their wedding. It had some pictures in the middle of it. Now I know those "pictures" were actually prints of some of the wonderful Christian artwork to come out of the last 2,000 years. From those pictures, because of course I couldn't read yet, I gained my own idea of who God was and how it all worked. (More on that later.)
My baptism never really signified anything to my parents and therefore they never transferred any great significance of it to me. My God-parents certainly are important to me, but it's because they're my Aunt and Uncle, not so much the God part. That part was never really talked about, nor made important. Twenty-plus years later I find myself having my 2 children baptized, myself being confirmed a Catholic and receiving my First Holy Communion. It was beautiful and I chose for my childrens' God-parents a couple who was very instrumental in planting all the seeds for my conversion.
Here I am now, a Catholic as God intended, with another baby. And. No. Catholic. "Family". Save aforementioned older childrens' God-parents.
How do you choose God-parents? Who is appropriate? My biggest issue was feeling like I didn't know anyone "well" enough to ask them to be united with our family. Do I just ask someone we know from Church? Do I ask someone in our homeschool group? What about my dearest friend who is, unfortunately, not Catholic? How do I include her in something as important as this? Coming from about as far not Catholic as I did growing up I felt so uncomfortable asking anyone to step into this part of our life. I didn't want to make anyone feel obligated, and in my heart I knew that it should mean more to me than it felt like it was meaning.
So what did I do? What any other good Catholic would do - I prayed about it. I prayed a whole lot. I prayed towards the end of my pregnancy and a LOT MORE after My Lovey was born.
Finally, I just asked God to show me who was supposed to be his God-parents. Shortly after I asked that, a very important person who I was growing in friendship with, who is also a homeschooling mom, who also has many (7) kids, who also attends our parish, and whom I greatly respect asked me, "Have you had that baby baptized yet?" "No," I replied. "Oh, good! I thought I missed it. I don't want to miss seeing *******'s baptism!"
Could He have been a little more obvious?
So, after trying to catch this wonderful couple (my friend and her husband) at Mass for 4 weeks, I finally got the chance to ask her at our last MNO (Mother's Night Out). So nervous I was. Is this really OK? Maybe I shouldn't? Will she think it's out of line for me to ask her? I haven't known them that long. I had no reason to worry. She, of course, said yes and she'd, we'll they'd, be honored. Just like God planned. Yes!!! I am so happy. It wasn't too hard to ask, and I am so grateful to have this wonderful family be a part of our lives.
Now to plan the actual ceremony.............
~H
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