Tuesday, November 29, 2016

The new ascesis of marriage

Three years ago, I left my beloved Carmel. I've now been post-Carmel for longer than I was in Carmel. They were very different journeys. From my current vantage point, I would categorize my journey in Carmel as one of insatiable seeking: spiritually, intellectually, ascetically and aesthetically. I was looking for the perfect environment, the perfect behavior, and the perfect mindset, to perfect my being and thus enter into perfect union with God. I knew love was a part of this picture, but I couldn't exactly figure out how-- there wasn't a lot of room for it in my idealistic obsession with creating structure, discipline, and perfection. I knew that the active role a soul takes in preparing itself to be transformed by God was not the end but the means, and I tried to beware of Pelagianism-- making myself into my own Savior. But there's still some latent control issues there. Even my notion of passivity was somewhat forced.

I thought I was going through a dark night in Carmel, and maybe I was. But the dark night post-Carmel was even more obscure. I left thinking I would be transitioning to another religious order. But the desire never came. I didn't know what was happening to me, and it seemed a lot like apathy. Forgive me Lord if it was. But I think in that state, devoid of desire-- the feeling of being far from God, though still believing in Him-- the Holy Spirit was working in me in a new way. I was open, really open, to what came next. And He sent me my husband. And I'm happy, really happy. It's strange that I didn't have to work so hard for it, like I'm used to. I didn't have to try to negate my nature and mold myself into the caricature of what I imagined my desired vocation would look like. I could just be me-- who God created me to be. How truly liberating.


In this state, finally, I've experienced a love like I never have before. Different from that which my parents have for me, and I didn't think any mere mortal could love me more than them. More intimate than my dearest friends, and I never knew I could feel more affection than with them. And herein lies one of the unique aspects of this fearfully awesome vocation of marriage: You get to be you, and this love is poured upon you like none that you've ever experienced before, and it teaches you, and transforms you. A resulting ascesis occurs that you didn't have to force. It's just part of the design. I question our Creator a lot when it comes to how he designed us-- I would have done a lot of things differently. But this marriage thing, I think He got right ;) What a gift.

Thursday, November 3, 2016

"Hey Dominic, your mom wants you!"

We lost our baby in late September. His gestational age was eight weeks. So teeny tiny. But we chose his (or her) name(s) pretty soon after finding out we were pregnant. I talked to him a lot. We blamed all my stomach aches and things of that nature on him. We joked around a lot with him. And we referred to him almost always by the male name we had chosen, Dominic-- so we're sticking with it.

My husband and I didn't mourn that much. Maybe because we fell back on the fact that he is perfectly happy, wherever he is: limbo or heaven, and I'm banking on God's mercy and the latter. But regardless, he's completely happy.

As November, the month dedicated to the faithful departed, rolled around, and we were sitting in church, the priest mentioned the name for whom that particular mass was being offered. Just to make sure we weren't missing any grand opportunities, I double-checked with my husband that our son did not, in fact, need prayers. That's right, says Ryan. There's no chance he's in purgatory because the little guy never committed a sin.

Okay, so if he's not a poor soul, and I doubt this whole limbo thing, he must be a saint! So I pray to him. Or rather for his intercession. But when I do this, it seems strange. He was so young. He had no experience with the world outside my womb. His brain wasn't very developed. Does he even know I'm his mom? "Yes," says my husband. But how does he know? And how does he know I'm talking to him-- he's not omniscient. "God has to tell him, but he knows," replies my husband.

So I imagine the Lord like "Hey Dominic, your mom wants you!" And then just look at that little face.

Image result for 8 week embryo

I don't know if that's what his resurrected body looks like, or whether he has it yet-- I suppose he's gotta wait like the rest of the saints except Mary. But he still has a look-- and I bet the look says "I know you, mom. You were the only home I had in the world. I heard you and dad laughing. I know you were nervous about having me. But you're doing a good job. And I know you'll be a good mom to my future siblings. I'll pray for you-- don't worry."

Thanks, Dom. See you soon(?) I can only hope.

Ave crux, spes unica.