IT'S A..............

I LIKE surprises. I love the thrill of anticipation and unexpected joy. It’s fun and heightens the celebratory experience. It was a surprise when we found out and shared that we are with child, and it was a surprise when we found out the baby's sex this afternoon. Well, at least for one of us-- Ryan knew all along ;) And it will be a surprise to you when we share the baby’s sex and the name we’ve chosen.

But I don’t know of any case when I’ve introduced someone and omitted their name intentionally. Saying “This will be fun for you to wait in suspense—I will not tell you their name until an important milestone happens in their life!” would be silly in ordinary social interaction, right? Especially because the person being introduced could tell you their name if I don’t. In the case of this little one in utero, I am their voice. I will be for a while. And while you won’t be able to get to know this baby at first in the way you get to know other people, I wouldn’t want to withhold any means of you beginning the process.

We know there’s an intimate connection between knowing and loving, and to love someone more you need to get to know them more. I have an innate love for this baby by reason of being its mother. And when you love someone you want others to share in your love. I want YOU to love this baby too. Therefore I want you to get to know this baby. And while the sex and name will not reveal everything—indeed it will take a lifetime for this person to slowly but surely develop and become who they are, let alone reveal that to us—I still believe that their sex and name are important elements of their identity. And I can't keep it a secret.


So it is with great joy and excitement that Ryan and I reveal to you….

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baby

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GIRL

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ELISHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Her name is Elisha, because we believe she has received a double portion of the spirit of Elijah, that fiery Prophet. And the Prophet Elisha performed great works and miracles of God for the people. He seems to be especially helpful with fertility and children. Plus the name (pronounced "eh LISH uh") sounds feminine to us ;)

We love you, Elisha! Can’t wait to meet you!

Thanks for sharing our joy.

"When they had crossed, Eli′jah said to Eli′sha, “Ask what I shall do for you, before I am taken from you.” And Eli′sha said, “I pray you, let me inherit a double share of your spirit.” And he said, “You have asked a hard thing; yet, if you see me as I am being taken from you, it shall be so for you; but if you do not see me, it shall not be so.” And as they still went on and talked, behold, a chariot of fire and horses of fire separated the two of them. And Eli′jah went up by a whirlwind into heaven. And Eli′sha saw it and he cried, “My father, my father! the chariots of Israel and its horsemen!” And he saw him no more. Then he took hold of his own clothes and rent them in two pieces. And he took up the mantle of Eli′jah that had fallen from him, and went back and stood on the bank of the Jordan.  Then he took the mantle of Eli′jah that had fallen from him, and struck the water, saying, “Where is the Lord, the God of Eli′jah?” And when he had struck the water, the water was parted to the one side and to the other; and Eli′sha went over. Now when the sons of the prophets who were at Jericho saw him over against them, they said, “The spirit of Eli′jah rests on Eli′sha.” And they came to meet him, and bowed to the ground before him.

2 Kings 2:9-15

 Now the men of the city said to Eli′sha, “Behold, the situation of this city is pleasant, as my lord sees; but the water is bad, and the land is unfruitful.” He said, “Bring me a new bowl, and put salt in it.” So they brought it to him. Then he went to the spring of water and threw salt in it, and said, “Thus says the Lord, I have made this water wholesome; henceforth neither death nor miscarriage shall come from it.” So the water has been wholesome to this day, according to the word which Eli′sha spoke."

2 Kings 2:19-22 

"One day Eli′sha went on to Shunem, where a wealthy woman lived, who urged him to eat some food. So whenever he passed that way, he would turn in there to eat food. And she said to her husband, “Behold now, I perceive that this is a holy man of God, who is continually passing our way. Let us make a small roof chamber with walls, and put there for him a bed, a table, a chair, and a lamp, so that whenever he comes to us, he can go in there.

One day he came there, and he turned into the chamber and rested there. And he said to Geha′zi his servant, “Call this Shu′nammite.” When he had called her, she stood before him. And he said to him, “Say now to her, See, you have taken all this trouble for us; what is to be done for you? Would you have a word spoken on your behalf to the king or to the commander of the army?” She answered, “I dwell among my own people.” And he said, “What then is to be done for her?” Geha′zi answered, “Well, she has no son, and her husband is old.” He said, “Call her.” And when he had called her, she stood in the doorway. And he said, “At this season, when the time comes round, you shall embrace a son.” And she said, “No, my lord, O man of God; do not lie to your maidservant.” But the woman conceived, and she bore a son about that time the following spring, as Eli′sha had said to her."

2 Kings 4:8-17

The transverberation of our hearts

Tomorrow is the Memorial of the Transverberation of the Heart of St. Teresa of Avila, and it is for this occasion that I would light to reflect upon the relationship of pleasure and pain.

Teresa says in the Book of her Life:

"I saw in [the angel's] hand a long spear of gold, and at the iron’s point there seemed to be a little fire. He appeared to me to be thrusting it at times into my heart and to pierce my very entrails; when he drew it out, he seemed to draw them out also, and to leave me all on fire with a great love of God. The pain was so great, that it made me moan; and yet so surpassing was the sweetness of this excessive pain, that I could not wish to be rid of it. The soul is satisfied now with nothing less than God. The pain is not bodily, but spiritual; though the body has its share in it, even a large one. It is a caressing of love so sweet which now takes place between the soul and God, that I pray God of His goodness to make him experience it who may think that I am lying."

This is a spiritual experience that Teresa had, and yet the unity of body and soul necessitates that her body share in this experience. There is also the seemingly incompatible phenomenon of "the sweetness of this excessive pain" that she describes.

St. John of the Cross talks about this apparent dichotomy all the time- of pleasure and pain. His favorite metaphor is the living flame of love that tenderly wounds the soul. That's what union with God is like in this life, not just for beginners being purged of the most basic attachments, but even saints with the thinnest of vales separating them from eternal life.

There may be a more physical experience we can relate to that in some small way shares in this phenomenon- at once spiritual and physical, pleasant and painful: pregnancy. In a discussion about whether our Blessed Mother experienced the pains associated with pregnancy, my sister-in-law pointed out that "there are many physical feelings of pregnancy that both hurt and bring joy at the same time, so if she didn't feel physical discomfort when pregnant, she would lose many of the joyful moments of pregnancy as well."

This is a fitting reflection for St. Monica's feast day this Sunday, who is patron saint of mothers. She knew all too well the combination of pain and pleasure in being a mother to Augustine.

And is not this the case in all our lives: that there are so many twists and turns, changes and challenges, that bring a certain element of uneasiness, if not pain. But if we had not gone through, then neither would we have experienced the simultaneous joy that they bring?

Think of the stress and anxiety of going back to school even. But isn't there excitement and joy alongside these?

So, in whatever wound we are experiencing, "we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our HEARTS through the Holy Spirit which has been given to us." -Romans 5:3

"We need men like Benedict"

I found this great lecture that the then Cardinal Razinger gave in 2005 on the occasion of receiving the St. Benedict Award for the promotion of life and the family in Europe. This is perfect for the feast day of St. Benedict.
Enjoy!

Full text available from Catholic Education Resource Center:

..."In the so necessary dialogue between secularists and Catholics, we Christians must be very careful to remain faithful to this fundamental line: to live a faith that comes from the "Logos," from creative reason, and that, because of this, is also open to all that is truly rational.

But at this point, in my capacity as believer, I would like to make a proposal to the secularists. At the time of the Enlightenment there was an attempt to understand and define the essential moral norms, saying that they would be valid "etsi Deus non daretur," even in the case that God did not exist. In the opposition of the confessions and in the pending crisis of the image of God, an attempt was made to keep the essential values of morality outside the contradictions and to seek for them an evidence that would render them independent of the many divisions and uncertainties of the different philosophies and confessions. In this way, they wanted to ensure the basis of coexistence and, in general, the foundations of humanity. At that time, it was thought to be possible, as the great deep convictions created by Christianity to a large extent remained. But this is no longer the case. 

The search for such a reassuring certainty, which could remain uncontested beyond all differences, failed. Not even the truly grandiose effort of Kant was able to create the necessary shared certainty. Kant had denied that God could be known in the realm of pure reason, but at the same time he had represented God, freedom and immortality as postulates of practical reason, without which, coherently, for him no moral behavior was possible. 

Does not today's situation of the world make us think perhaps that he might have been right? I would like to express it in a different way: The attempt, carried to the extreme, to manage human affairs disdaining God completely leads us increasingly to the edge of the abyss, to man's ever greater isolation from reality. We must reverse the axiom of the Enlightenment and say: Even one who does not succeed in finding the way of accepting God, should, nevertheless, seek to live and to direct his life veluti si Deus daretur, as if God existed. This is the advice Pascal gave to his friends who did not believe. In this way, no one is limited in his freedom, but all our affairs find the support and criterion of which they are in urgent need. 

Above all, that of which we are in need at this moment in history are men who, through an enlightened and lived faith, render God credible in this world. The negative testimony of Christians who speak about God and live against him, has darkened God's image and opened the door to disbelief. We need men who have their gaze directed to God, to understand true humanity. We need men whose intellects are enlightened by the light of God, and whose hearts God opens, so that their intellects can speak to the intellects of others, and so that their hearts are able to open up to the hearts of others. 

Only through men who have been touched by God, can God come near to men. We need men like Benedict of Norcia, who at a time of dissipation and decadence, plunged into the most profound solitude, succeeding, after all the purifications he had to suffer, to ascend again to the light, to return and to found Montecasino, the city on the mountain that, with so many ruins, gathered together the forces from which a new world was formed. 

In this way Benedict, like Abraham, became the father of many nations. The recommendations to his monks presented at the end of his "Rule" are guidelines that show us also the way that leads on high, beyond the crisis and the ruins. 

"Just as there is a bitter zeal that removes one from God and leads to hell, so there is a good zeal that removes one from vices and leads to God and to eternal life. It is in this zeal that monks must exercise themselves with most ardent love: May they outdo one another in rendering each other honor, may they support, in turn, with utmost patience their physical and moral infirmities ... May they love one another with fraternal affection ... Fear God in love ... Put absolutely nothing before Christ who will be able to lead all to eternal life" (Chapter 72)."

St. Tom's Mom & The Way of Motherhood

I am a mother, but not like others. My child never lived in this world outside of my womb. I don’t see my child, and his whereabouts are obscure to me. I never raised my child, he was not physically entrusted to me long enough for that. But his mother, I remain. 

And I think my motherhood in relation to this child will be a process, one that parallels the journey of all mothers. This dynamic process of which I speak seems to have two major components: 1) the spiritual dimension of motherhood, even for physical mothers, and 2) maternal growth in tandem with the mother’s relationship to God.

Here at Ave Maria University, where I have the pleasure of taking a summer course while my husband writes his dissertation, there is a great emphasis on the works of St. Thomas Aquinas. So what does the Master say about Motherhood? I’m not sure whether he has any pious or pithy quotes about the beauty or purpose of the vocation, but what I did find, is a little information about his own mother.

Theodora Carraciola was a Countess of Teano and mother of nine, the youngest of whom is Thomas.

The future holiness of the unborn babe was disclosed to his mother by a holy hermit of the neighborhood, known simply as Buono, or God's good man. Clad in a rough garment, and with hair unkempt, he presented himself at Rocca Secca, and pointing to a picture of the holy patriarch St. Dominic, who was not yet canonized, he thus addressed the Countess: "Lady, be glad, for thou art about to have a son whom thou shalt call Thomas. Thou and thy husband will think if making him a monk in the Abbey of Monte Cassino, where St. Benedict's body reposes, in the hopes that your son will attain to its honors and wealth. But God has disposed otherwise, because he will become a friar of the Order of Preachers and so great will be his learning and sanctity that his equal will not be found through the whole world." Theodora listened with awe to the presage, then, falling upon her knees, exclaimed "I am all unworthy of bearing such a son, but, God's will be done according to His good pleasure".

Theodora appears to be docile to God’s will for her child. However, in any situation there are challenges to seeing the hand of God and discerning His will. The question isn’t “To act, or not to act?,” but rather “What is the right thing for me to do for my child in this situation?” I can appreciate that while the role of a mother changes as the child becomes an adult, the ongoing nature of this question remains.

Despite giving her “fiat” to the prediction according to the above account, we know that it was not so easy in reality. Theodora, if we give her the benefit of the doubt, still wants what’s best for her child, hence God’s will, when she tries to prevent him from becoming a Dominican. In actions reminiscent of St. Monica’s pursuit of Augustine, Theodora travels to Naples, then Rome, in hopes of apprehending her son, but she had just missed him in both locations.

I know many instances of parents trying to thwart their children’s plans in what they perceive as attempts to save them from bad decisions. The sentiment is noble, and the desire to protect your children is necessary. But so is the notion that they, in the end, do not belong to you— they belong to God. This is where our relationship with our children intersects with our relationship to God. Both relationships require a great deal of trust in God’s providence, and the trust that develops in our own relationship with God is essential in the role of motherhood.

As my husband and I prepare our hearts and our lives for the gift of another child one day, if God wills it, we too are called upon to increase our faith— our trust that God will provide.

The temptation to make ourselves gods in parenthood is real. And while parents do hold great responsibility towards and authority over their children, their power is not infinite. Even the omnipotent God grants free will to his children. This acknowledgement of the limits of parental control could be a consolation— my child’s good is not merely dependent upon my parenting. But it is also a source of great suffering— I am powerless to “fix” or “save” my children.

Thus, parenthood continually provides an opportunity for suffering born out of love for our children. Opportunities to lay down our obscurity, not understanding the ways in which the Lord is working in their lives, at His feet. To trust that the One who loves them more than we ever could, has the power to save them.  

This is the way of motherhood. 

Obedient unto death

Death is a strange thing. It's inevitable, yet no one wants to dwell on it-- that'd be morose. You aren't supposed to mention it in casual conversation, or talk about it lightly-- especially in the presence of children.

Ryan learned this on Christmas Day when he was trying to get his little niece to go see her granddad in the hospital. "He might not be around much longer," he added. Everyone in the room grew silent. His sister quietly reprimanded, "That's not the way to talk."

Ryan was right-- his father didn't live much longer. But so was his sister-- death is a grave matter, not to be flung around flippantly.

Here's why it's such a sacred time. When confronted with death:

a) one revisits their history

b) one takes stock of their relationships

c) one comes to grips with their existential situation

d) one even exercises their will, hopefully in abandonment to His

We have to respect this process, both for the one who is dying, and those who love him. It is a process of making sense out of suffering, death, and life.

THE BEREAVEMENT PROCESS

Last weekend Ryan and I were listening to audio lectures on St. Augustine's Confessions. The presenters came to the part in the text where Augustine recalls the death of his friend. Augustine's reaction of grief was very dramatic, but he says it was more about him than it was his friend. In fact, the commentators found it noteworthy that Augustine doesn't even mention the name of the deceased-- only that it was his friend.

This led me to reflect on the distinction between one's external, visible, reactions and their internal disposition. One cannot tell the latter from the former. We consider a person cold and aloof should they not shed a tear at the death of a loved one. But as Augustine shows us, sadness is not necessarily nobler.

Each person will grieve differently. God alone knows the heart.

THE DYING PROCESS

Ryan's father, John, had heart problems. He we was going to have surgery, but changed his mind. "I thought [surgery] was my only option if I wanted to live" he told me. "Well," I reluctantly replied, "I think it kind of is."

John wanted to live. He also wanted to live without unnecessary complications and hardships. I think, somehow, over the course of those next two weeks, he came to terms with what his decision not to have surgery meant for him.

Last night, surrounded by all five of his daughters, John took his last breath. It was the day the Church celebrates the feast of the Baptism of the Lord.  

OBEDIENCE TO THE FATHER’S WILL

Yesterday I read an Angelus address for this feast in which Pope Benedict asked: "What is the meaning of this act that Jesus wishes to fulfill - overcoming the Baptist's resistance - in order to obey the Father's will (cf. Mt 3: 14-15)?" He continues:

The profound sense emerges only at the end of Christ's earthly existence, in his death and Resurrection. Being baptized by John together with sinners, Jesus began to take upon himself the weight of all of humanity's sin, like the Lamb of God who "takes away" the sin of the world (cf. Jn 1: 29): an act which he brought to fulfillment on the Cross when he also received his "baptism" (cf. Lk 12: 50). In fact, by dying he is "immersed" in the Father's love and the Holy Spirit comes forth, so that those who believe in him could be reborn by that inexhaustible font of new and eternal life. Christ's entire mission is summed up in this: to baptize us in the Holy Spirit, to free us from the slavery of death and "to open heaven to us", that is, access to the true and full life that will be "a plunging ever anew into the vastness of being, in which we are simply overwhelmed with joy" (Spe Salvi, n. 12).

The baptism of the Lord is about obedience to God's will. I find it fitting that my father-in-law went to God on this feast day, in obedience to the Father's will. 

Our Lord took on John Brady's sins, and died for him, so as to open heaven for him. John gave his assent, coaxed by his daughters who encouraged him in his final moments to "go to God," in fulfillment of God's plan. This is a victory of humility: accepting even death[1], that God may grant eternal life.

THE CHURCH & HER LITURGY

And so I rejoice today in John's participation in the victory of Christ over sin and death.[2] 

And we pray for the repose of his soul, for that is what Scripture asks of us.[3] 

We will pray in trusting supplication: "Out of the depths, I cry to you, O LORD."[4] 

We will remember in what consists John's viaticum, his food for the journey, as we celebrate the Eucharist. "Whoever eats my Flesh and drinks my Blood has eternal life, and I will raise him on the last day."[5]

And we'll follow John's example of humble and persevering faith, with thanksgiving for his life, prayers for his salvation, and hope for the resurrection- when "we will all be changed."[6]

In paradisum deducant te Angeli; in tuo adventu suscipiant te martyres, et perducant te in civitatem sanctam Ierusalem. Chorus angelorum te suscipiat, et cum Lazaro quondam paupere æternam habeas requiem.

"May the angels lead you into paradise; may the martyrs receive you at your arrival and lead you to the holy city Jerusalem. May choirs of angels receive you and with Lazarus, once (a) poor (man), may you have eternal rest."

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[1] Cf Philippians 2:8

[2] Cf 1 Corinthians 15:51-57, the New Testament reading at the Funeral Mass

[3] Cf 2 Maccabees 12:43-46, the Old Testament Reading at the Funeral Mass

[4] Cf Psalm 130, the Responsorial Psalm at the Funeral Mass

[5] Cf John 6:51-58, the Gospel at the Funeral Mass

[6] 1 Corinthians 15:51

2016: Best. Year. Ever.

I am very nostalgic about this year, already, and it's not even over. I don't want it to end. You see, this is the year that I started text flirting with a wonderful man. I let him take me out for a beer, and come over to watch Breaking Bad, and kiss me.

This is the year that man held my hand and asked me to be his girlfriend. This is the year that man took me out to the movies, and dinner. This is the year that man asked me to help him study for his comprehensive exams, which he passed with distinction.

This is the year he asked me to marry him. BEST. YEAR. EVER. Right? No, it doesn't end there-- I've only gotten to February.

This is the year that man met my parents and my family, the year he got to see the land of Lincoln, where I come from. This is the year I got to meet his family in Deleware.

This is the year we got to plan a wedding, a Maronite Mystery of Crowning.

This is the year we bought a house! Our own little love nest.

This is the year I was accepted into a Master's in Social Work program, where I could enroll part-time with tuition remission.

This is the year we exchanged vows, in the company of our family and friends. The happiest day of my life, when I entrusted my life and my love to this man, who became my husband.



This is the year he took me to the most beautiful places on our honeymoon, when I got to ride shot gun with him through the winding mountain roads of Colorado.

This is the year I got to soak up all his love, as his wife. This is the year when I'd come home from work to dine with him at lunch and dinner. This is the year I'd try to clean and cook and do his laundry, when he was so good and gracious and did most of the work when I couldn't.

This is the year we got pregnant. This is the year my husband comforted me through the transition to motherhood, and then mourning. This is the year we became parents to our first child in heaven, Dominic.

This is the year I got a 4.0, and my husband was so proud of me.

This is the year I watched him prepare to teach his first class, and interact with his students, and I got to see what a wonderful professor he will be.

This is the year my husband showed me what it's like to have him as the leader of our family, as partner, as lover, and best friend.

This is the year that I became the happiest I have ever been in my whole entire life, because I am loved by him. And in this way, it teaches me something more about what it means to be loved by Him, the One I have to thank for all of this.

So thank you, dear Lord, for the best year of my life. I don't want this year to end. But if it's any indicator of what's yet to come, here's to many more!

God is love, 

and he who abides in love 

abides in God, 

and God abides in him.

- 1 John 4:16

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.