In the Heart of my Home

needle & thREAD

I planned on beach sewing. I packed all the things necessary to have a little creative fun in the sun. Well, actually, not all the things. I left the sewing machine pedal at home. This was very unfortunate on lots of levels. The most minor was that I have some nicely cut headbands that will have to be sewn at home. The most distressing is a costume malfunciton that might just haunt me for years:-(.

But there was plenty of costume handsewing. I've gotten to be expert at repairing fishnet tights while they are being worn (they snag on everything) and I can whipstitch a bodice to a tutu like nobody's business. Psst: I'm really looking forward to sewing with good fabric and making some real clothes in August. 

And just in time for that, Fat Quarter Shop is having a Moda sale. 25% off. But hurry. I didn't check my mail until today, so Friday July 18 is the last day. I have a Fat Quarter Shop gift card that my kids gave me for Christmas sitting on my desk at home. I can't reach it until July 19th. So you all buy some Moda and let me live vicariously, okay? 

The morning walk routine is going nuts. I've had some pretty horrible insomnia here at the beach. I'd imagined long walks on the beach or along the golf cart path or down the trail that leads to the marina. Those places are very, very dark at 4 AM. So, I've been logging 8,000-10,000 steps around the well-lit parking lot. It's something, right? And it's a great way to get lots of books read. I'm listening to The Seven Principles for Making Marriage Work. I highly recommend the book. It's excellent. I don't recommend the audio version, though. There are lots of checklists and it just doesn't convey very practically on Audible. I poked around the website a bit to see if those lists are available there for audio "readers," and only found one of them online. You can take the quiz to see how well you know your partner here, but that's the only one I see online. If you find something, let me know. I'm happy to be corrected.

Gottman says that his research proves that marriage counseling most often doesn't work because most conflicts aren't solvable in the first place. After just 5 minutes of watching a couple converse, he can predict divorce (or not) with a 91% accuracy rate. That's mighty impressive. What's more impressive is the way he does it. He's nailed down marriages biggest demons. If he sees one of the "four horsemen," he knows the couple is in trouble. Those "horsemen" that escort the demise of relationship? Criticism, contempt, defensiveness, and stonewalling.

The book is a worthy investment, and not just for newlyweds. There's a great deal to think about there. Here's a little sample, from the website. The top seven ways to improve your marriage:

1. Seek help early.
The average couple waits 6 years before seeking help for relationship problems. (And keep in mind, half of all marriages that end do so in the first 7 years). This means the average couple lives with unhappiness for far too long.

2. Edit yourself.
The happiest couples avoid saying every critical thought when discussing touchy topics.

3. Soften your “start up.”
Arguments often “start up” because one partner escalates the conflict by making a critical or contemptuous remark. Bringing up problems gently and without blame works much better.

4. Accept influence from your partner.
Gottman and his colleagues found that a relationship succeeds to the extent that the husband can accept influence from his wife. For instance, a woman says, “Do you have to work Thursday night? My mother is coming that weekend, and I need your help getting ready.” Her husband then replies, “My plans are set, and I’m not changing them.” As you might guess, this guy is in a shaky marriage. A husband’s ability to be influenced by his wife (rather than vice-versa) is crucial – because research shows that women are already well practiced at accepting influence from men. A true partnership only occurs when a husband can do the same thing.

5. Have high standards.
Happy couples have high standards for each other. The most successful couples are those who, even as newlyweds, refused to accept hurtful behavior from one another. Low levels of tolerance for bad behavior in the beginning of a relationship equals a happier couple down the road.

6. Learn to repair and exit the argument.
Happy couples have learned how to exit an argument, or how to repair the situation before an argument gets completely out of control. Examples of repair attempts: using humor; stroking your partner with a caring remark (“I understand that this is hard for you”); making it clear you’re on common ground (“We’ll tackle this problem together”); backing down (in marriage, as in the martial art Aikido, you often have to yield to win); and, in general, offering signs of appreciation for your partner and his or her feelings along the way. If an argument gets too heated, take a 20-minute break, and agree to approach the topic again when you are both calm.

7. Focus on the positives.
In a happy marriage, while discussing problems, couples make at least five times as many positive statements to and about each other and their relationship as negative ones. For example, “We laugh a lot” as opposed to “We never have any fun.” A good marriage must have a rich climate of positivity. Make regular deposits to your emotional bank accounts!

What would you put in your Top 7 Ways to Nurture a Happy Marriage?

 

What are you sewing and reading this week? I really do want to hear all about it!

Make sure the link you submit is to the URL of your blog post or your specific Flickr photo and not your main blog URL or Flickr Photostream. Please be sure and link to your current needle and thREAD post below in the comments, and not a needle and thREAD post from a previous week. If you don't have a blog, please post a photo to the needle & thREAD group at Flickr. 

       Include a link back to this post in your blog post or on your flickr photo page so that others who may want to join the needle and thREAD fun can find us! Feel free to grab a button here (in one of several colors) so that you can use the button to link

 

Date Night

I guess there is enough gray in my hair these days that people suddenly have decided I’m old enough to have “regrets.” Recently, several different people asked me what I would do differently if I had my years of early parenting to do over again. Without hesitation, I told both of them, “Date nights.”

When our children were little, my husband and I very rarely planned date nights. I had a nursing baby for nearly all of 25 years. I was committed to attachment parenting. And really, who do you have come to babysit seven children at a time? It just seemed so impossible to go out by ourselves. We did lots of “at-home dates” — just closing the door to our room and setting aside focused time after the children were asleep. But it’s really not the same.

Then, for our 25th wedding anniversary, Mike insisted we go to northern California for a week without the children. In that week, I became a strong and vocal advocate for honeymoons (we’d never had one) and date nights. As a change of scenery and an easing of momentary responsibilities melted day-to-day tensions, I relaxed into the happy company of my husband’s undivided attention. And I found I really liked it — and him.

Like a child who wants to buy everything in the souvenir shop at Disney World so that she can take the whole amazing adventure home with her, I resolved then and there to take a little “evening out adventure” with my husband at least once a month forevermore. I recognized that this was beneficial for our whole family. I shared those sentiments recently with my friend, Youth Apostles Father Peter W. Nassetta, who affirmed for me how necessary date night is. “Sometimes, parents become so focused on their kids that they forget about each other,” he said. “Kids need parents who love each other, and they need to see it!

Date nights can help children see their parents take time for each other. Of course, the parents benefit, too. They deepen their love for one another by taking the time for each other.”

When Mike insisted on an enormous seven-night date to northern California, he was insisting on making our relationship a priority. I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to leave the kids, didn’t want to travel all the way across the country in an airplane. Didn’t want to do all the work that came before and after the trip. But I said “yes” because I knew it was really, really important to him. So, we flew to wine country. Did I mention that prior to this trip I could count on one hand the number of glasses of wine I’d had in my lifetime? The trip was amazing.

 

In my attempt to bring home the whole souvenir store, I found an amazing local winery and determined to learn about wine in order to share my husband’s wine- tasting hobby. Then, I — who had never really been into wine at all — signed us up for the wine club. Further, I said that we’d come out and pick up our monthly deliveries instead of having them shipped. I thereby committed to a mini-honeymoon kind of date once a month.

That was a year and a half ago. Now, Rappahannock Cellars wine is a staple in our house, and that trip to the foothills once a month is a cherished “tradition.”

I’m going to entice you out to join us for a date next month. Rappahannock Cellars is hosting Slow Food, Vast Wine, an annual fundraising event benefiting a local Catholic atrium and Montessori center. The center is a beautiful place for children to encounter the Good Shepherd in their weekly atrium sessions. A good number of the center families rely on financial aid to afford the tuition, which is kept as low as possible. Every year, Rappahannock Cellars hosts a gala of local food and wine, together with live and silent auctions. This year, the event is April 26. The beautiful setting near Front Royal is just perfect for a date night getaway that will refresh your souls and make you feel like you’ve just been on a little bit of a honeymoon. And that can only be a good thing, right?

 

A Great, Big Valentine's Bouquet

.

.

.

I used to hate Valentine's Day. All romantic notions and lofty daydreams wrapped in red satin bows, just waiting for disappointment and disillusionment. It never works out the way it does on the Hallmark channel. I tread carefully here, since I've had the same Valentine for over thirty years and I absolutely wouldn't have it any other way. He speaks a beautiful love language. But offerings of flowers and candlelight on a specific day in the middle of February isn't it.

Truth be told, I'm not the best gift-giver either. I try hard, but I can't always make the grand ideas in my head match what actually happens, especially on a deadline of someone else's making. Two years ago, I hated Valentine's Day the most. That was my first year of Instagram. Since I use Pinterest maybe 4 times a year and only when I'm specifically researching to find out how to do something, Instagram is my visual connection to the vast world out there. 

Instagram explodes with hearts and flowers and husbands and mothers who are just so very good at this whole Valentine thing.  Last year, I didn't even look there at all on February 14 because the year before it was so deflating. Not good enough. Not good enough. Not good enough.

It's a language problem, really. I see that now. Love speaks so many languages and sometimes, there is only one person in the world who can understand the language of another. And, if that is the case, then a picture posted for all the world to see probably isn't going to convey its meaning.

My friend Lisa-Jo is writing today about all the ways Love runs. She is putting words to the expressions of love that far exceed cards in red envelopes and out-of-season, not-local-at-all flowers. She's got an amazing, amazing act of love to tell you about, something we can all share. 

She asked about gardens and love. I laughed out loud, alone in my bed last night, when I read it. Gardens are sort of running joke around here. In my imagination, I have a lush, beautiful garden growing in my backyard. Something nearly big enough to sustain us. It's a ridiculous dream in a lot of ways. I can't do the labor to establish a garden of that size. Most of our backyard is a soccer field. And, really, do the math: do you know how much spinach I'd have to plant to keep a family this size in salad? It's crazy. My husband spends long days working and any "leisure time" caring for his children. He wasn't called to be a farmer, even of a little farm. He was called to be the dad on the sidelines all over the world.

So, I have a little vegetable garden and a full bed of roses along the side of the house. And I can't ever go out to tend those roses without remembering the words spoken by Blessed Teresa of Calcutta. "How can there be too many children? That's like saying there are too many flowers."

My husband has spent the last 26 years gathering the most amazing bouquet for me. He tends it ever so carefully. He shelters it in life's raging storms. He tenderly tucks warmth around it on cold nights and he offers it nourishment and refreshment on hot days. He blows gentle breezes onto its faces and smiles sunshine at how beautifully it blooms. 

Today, he'll try to do a little airline magic to get home after all flights were canceled yesterday. Likely, he'll have to drive to an airport other than the one he intended originally. He'll have to catch a plane that flies "home" to the airport in the city instead of the one ten minutes from our house. He'll have to drive home in the slippery, ugly aftermath of what used to be a beautiful snowstorm. And then, he will walk through the door and love will light the room. He'll gather tender rosebuds, and tall, woody reeds of gold. He'll tousle their heads and kiss their cheeks and take their handmade offerings and tell them how wonderful it all is. 

I will remember that this is my Valentine bouquet, grown in the garden of his heart and this man has sown seeds of love and made sure the finest blossoms grew. every. single. day. since he first promised he would on a dark Valentine's Eve 32 years ago. That's one dedicated gardener, there.

 

"There is no greater happiness for a man than approaching a door at the end of a day knowing someone on the other side of that door is waiting for the sound of his footsteps."

~ Ronald Reagan

My heart skips a beat just thinking about his footsteps on the front porch.

Psst: Go visit Lisa-Jo.

Joy of the Gospel for Advent Families

 

Pope Francis has begun the new liturgical year with an exhortation so very full that we can spend the entire year slowly unpacking it and prayerfully making it come alive in our own lives. I look forward to this being the year of “The Joy of the Gospel.” Goodness knows, we’re all ready for some joy.

As the liturgical year begins and we step along the Advent path toward Christmas, I am looking carefully at a passage that addresses families. The Holy Father writes, “The family is experiencing a profound cultural crisis, as are all communities and social bonds. In the case of the family, the weakening of these bonds is particularly serious because the family is the fundamental cell of society, where we learn to live with others despite our differences and to belong to one another; it is also the place where parents pass on the faith to their children. Marriage now tends to be viewed as a form of mere emotional satisfaction that can be constructed in any way or modified at will. But the indispensable contribution of marriage to society transcends the feelings and momentary needs of the couple. As the French bishops have taught, it is not born “of loving sentiment, ephemeral by definition, but from the depth of the obligation assumed by the spouses who accept to enter a total communion of life”.

As we sit at the kitchen table and create all kinds of Christmas lists, how can we direct this Advent toward healing, promoting and reinforcing interpersonal bonds in our families first? We must be intentional in taking stock of where we stand right now and moving forward with the purpose of creating strong ties in our own homes. And we must begin where the pope does, with careful loving attention to the marriage bond.

There will be office parties and Christmas pageants, Nutcracker performances and visits to the mall. When will there be time for nurturing marriage? Where does that number on the prioritized to-do list? Make time. That’s it; just make the time.

Pope Francis exhorts us to enter into a total communion of life. That doesn’t happen with a peck on the cheek in the morning before work and a tired consultation of the calendar together before the lights go out. Total communion is living it all together, sharing in the moments and the details. It’s a lunchtime phone call and dinner for two by candlelight after the kids are in bed. It’s caring about the details of the daily life of one’s beloved. And it’s about choosing to love every single day.

A marriage committed to total communion looks different from the marriage of newsstand tabloids and Hollywood sitcoms. To be so committed means we need to be together, to communicate often, to look one another in the eyes and speak late into the night. We need to pray together, for each other, with each other, and as the first step in sharing the faith with our children. We are called to eschew the lifestyle that strains the bond and choose something better.

Pope Francis emphasizes, “The individualism of our postmodern and globalized era favours a lifestyle which weakens the development and stability of personal relationships and distorts family bonds. Pastoral activity needs to bring out more clearly the fact that our relationship with the Father demands and encourages a communion which heals, promotes, and reinforces interpersonal bonds. ... We Christians remain steadfast in our intention to respect others, to heal wounds, to build bridges, to strengthen relationships and to ‘bear one another’s burdens’” (Gal 6:2).

It’s no accident that we hear this clarion call at the beginning of Advent. Pope Francis is an astute observer of society. He sees clearly how the current culture frays the fibers of the family. Nowhere is this more apparent than in the gross distortion of the celebration of Christmas. Advent must be a time to wonder together as a couple and then as a family at the great gift that is Jesus. When we consider our Christmas lists, let’s first consider together — as a couple — how to heal wounds and build bridges in our own families. Let’s commit this season of waiting and wondering to strengthening family relationships and cheerfully bearing one another’s burdens.

Mostly, let’s carve time to be with one another and to share what God has done in our own hearts. Let’s not be shy about speaking Christ into the spaces of our day, earnestly telling our children, “from personal experience that it is not the same thing to have known Jesus as not to have known Him, not the same thing to walk with Him as to walk blindly, not the same thing to hear His word as not to know it, and not the same thing to contemplate Him, to worship Him, to find our peace in Him, as not to.”

That’s the great gift to give.

 

Knit or Read, Read or Knit (and some great quotes for marriage)

Seems like a good day to join Ginny for a Yarn Along. I haven't done that in a very long while. I'm a woefully slow knitter. I don't have much new to show from week to week. For nearly a month, I've been working along on a Honey Cowl in Opaline Pashmina. Beautiful yarn, it's a pleasure to knit. But goodness, I hope I have it finished before the winter is over!

My great dilemma these days has been whether to knit or to read (or to sew, but that's tomorrow). I know there are people who can do both simultaneously. I am most definitely not one of them. Beth recommended Breath of Peace to me a couple weeks ago. I mistakenly had Amazon ship it to Christian's house instead of mine. I picked it up Saturday night when I dropped him off, then I finished the book Sunday -- all in one day. I'm kind of a binge reader like that. One of the biggest draws in homeschooling for me was the ability to give my children permission to do nothing but read some days. Very rarely do they request such a day. Somehow, I've not raised the voracious readers that I am. Come to think of it, I do have some accumulated Audible credit. I could listen to a book read to me and knit at the same time. Do you have some favorite fiction read aloud to recommend?

Back to the book. Very, very thoughtful. And thought-provoking. It's the story of an ex-monk in the 1300s who marries at midlife. I'm not sure the plot is even plausible and I do not want to debate the theology, but the messages woven into the fabric of the compelling story are well worth willful suspension of disbelief. I almost abandoned it in the beginning because I couldn't bear to read the dialogue between the man and his wife. Do people really talk to their husbands that way? I can't even imagine it. Late in the book, we hear the wife's thought process and maybe I better understand her. Still, I can't imagine even thinking so much snarkiness. I didn't really identify with either the woman or her husband exactly. I understood his ghosts well enough, but was astonsihed at her lack of compassion. Still, page after page, I was intrigued by their story. And the lessons here are excellent ones. None of us might be quite as extreme as these two, but all of us could work on our communication skills and our understanding of the history we bring to our marriages. And it seems it's possible that a married couple could learn a great deal from a community of monks who live mostly in silence. Hmmm.

I've gathered a few quotes for you here.

.

“When I cross the threshold of our home, for mercy’s sake, this should feel like a sanctuary. I should not be bracing myself for whatever might hit me this time—what reprimand, what fault exposed. As I open the door, I take a quick glance at your face to see if I must expect trouble. Sometimes, all is well. Sometimes my heart sinks and I think, oh save us, what have I done wrong now? Heaven knows I’m familiar enough with that kind of home: but I’ve always cherished the dream it doesn't have to be this way." 

~

“Love, love is not a matter of endearments murmured in the bedroom and forgotten in the day’s work around the yard. Love is for the everyday, and its courtesies are for the ordinary round, not just for the conquest of seduction.”

~

"I think, if you are willing to let things go sometimes, not have to have everything done right, that will help. So what if the fox steals a hen or two? Is that more serious than letting the devil steal your marriage? Do you really want William dancing like a puppet while you pull the strings, afraid to offend you, frightened of what you'll say if he makes a mistake?"

~

"It's a hard lesson to learn and it asks a lot of anyone. I think even when we've practiced for years it takes more than most of us have, to get it right. Again and again in community here, I have to ask my brothers' forgiveness when I forget myself and say something cutting or contemptuous or intolerant. And I imagine it must be the same in marriage. Except, in the night, where we have our holy silence to help us, you married folk are also blessed with an extra way to put things right."

~

"Maintaining careful courtesy and gentle speech began to drain Madeleine's resources after a while. She wondered if the brothers at St. Alcuin found it as hard work as this, or if it somehow came naturally to them. Even so, she had to admit, pleasant and cheerful conversation added something of a flavor of courtship to their evening together. Everything felt less empty and prosaic than it usually did."

 

 

Dear Fifteen-Year-Old Me,

That whole Mike Foss thing? It works out really well;-)

Date Night

I hung the outfit on the bar in my closet on Tuesday morning. I knew then that it was a sort of silly thing to do and I also knew that in this crazy life, it was highly possible that plans would go awry. Still, I hung it there. And now it's Friday. And tonight is Date Night. I think we're actually going to go.

I nearly forgot that my reliable "babysitter" would be in Steubenville, but Michael and Kristin can make a last minute save. The under-13 crowd approves of my choice of supervisors. Cross my fingers and click my heels, I think Mike and I are going to go out tonight.

This whole date night concept is kind of new to us. I think my husband was on a bit of a quest last year. He's very smart guy. After 25 years of nursing babies and very attached toddlers, he made his move. Not just dates, but trips. Actual "vacations" away. Three of them. In the same year! People, we never had a honeymoon. These were the first three trips of our marriage. We went to Miami and to Baltimore and then, in September, we spent a week in California. 

On these trips--particularly in California--I learned the language of date night. My only regret? That I didn't learn it sooner. Not day goes by even now that our trip to California doesn't come to mind. I think I actually said aloud to someone the other day that it was "life changing." And it was. It was a honeymoon, 25 years later. Now, we have mini honeymoons when we have a date night.

.

.

.

.

In California, we visited Napa, and toured wineries. We watched the sun set over the water in Monterey. We took a leisurely drive down the Pacific Coast Highway and we meadered back on 17 Mile Drive. We went to Mass in an old Mission church. We met friends for dinner in an amazing restaurant. We hung out backstage at a Dave Matthews concert (haven't blogged that one yet, have I?). Mostly though, we had hours and hours of uninterrupted falling in love--again. 

Tonight's date night will take us to dinner and a Virginia winery we've grown to love since returning from Napa. We'll drive our own mountain roads and sip some local artistry. My guess is it's all going to feel very much like California did, deep down in our hearts. Sometimes, though, instead of sun setting over Monterey Bay, we sit at the lake in our neighborhood and watch the sun go down as we eat a carryout Chinese picnic.

Good enough. Really good, actually. 

.

I spend so much time here talking about living an intentional life with our children. It occurs to me that Date Night is the best of intentionality at the heart of a marriage. Mabye it's not a night out. Maybe it's getting up a half hour earlier so that you can [try to] be up before the baby and have breakfast together out on the front steps. Maybe it's hiring a sitter or asking the empty-nester next door to just come for an hour after everyone's asleep so that you can share a dessert and a cup of chai on the patio of a local coffee shop. Slip out. Get away (even if it's just to the playhouse in the backyard).

Fall in love again.

 

Renew

 

Last year was pretty huge. I was so tired, so completely spent at this year's beginning that I noticed year-in-review posts on other blogs, and just pulled the quilt up tighter around my ears and closed my eyes. I didn't have the energy--physical or spiritual--to revisit it all, even virtually. It was just.so.much.

I went through that year of many, many transitions kicking and screaming. Turns out I'm not a big fan of change. The reality is that I liked the baby years, loved them, really and never once wished them away. And yet, in the big giant year of transition, they were indeed being swept beyond my reach. I left my children for the first time. And then for the second. Someone turned four and there was no one younger than her around the table at dinner. But there was someone new at the table. And she came to be one of us. I gained a new role. The transition was absolutely unmistakeable.

Our culture is so youth oriented. For the most part it seems, no one really searches out ways to be older. We celebrate 21 in a big way. We mark midlife with black-themed birthday cards and bad jokes about being over the hill. I think I bought into that mentality a bit. And I think I know a big reason I was such easy prey.

I was so dang tired. The truth is that this wholehearted, all-in, very attached parenting style had depleted me to the equivalent of soil dust. Nothing rich was growing there. If this was what the mid-forties felt like, I could not imagine sixty.

But I have a four-year-old. And my most fervent prayer is to grow old healthy, and holy, and helpful. I want to be there for her. I want to see how the story unfolds. I want to get out of bed in the morning without my knees cracking so loudly it wakes my husband.

In the blur that was the new year, friends were choosing words for the year--just single words upon which to focus, meditate, seek wisdom. A word to live for the whole year. I couldn't wrap my brain around one. 

And then I could. Aimee said her word was renew. Renew.

That's it. That's the word. It's the word that says that this stage in life is not the beginning of the end. It's the beginning, instead, of something better, stronger, wiser, and yes--older. But older in the richest way. That's certainly being proven true in marriage. Did you know that the sweetest wine is grown from the oldest vineyards? Grapes grow best when the farmer works in harmony in with the earth, when he embraces the whole and considers that plant and the land around it as they were endowed by the Creator, with an eye towards preserving the quality for a long time. The goal of biodynamic farming is to be sustainable. When you grow grapes, you draw something from the soil and you have to replenish that. 

When we learned about biodynamic vineyards, one point that came home to me is that growing practices greatly influence how long the vineyards will continue to bear fruit. The vines where the practice is focused upon sustainable growth--where the big picture is considered and every element of farming is oriented towards ensuring health of the vines down deep and over time--are the vines that bear the sweetest fruit. At first, the explanation of biodynamic farming sounds a bit hokie. But then, you can literally taste and see that the fruit borne of the wisdom of old is of a superior quality.

This image works so well for me. The Bible is rich with imagery of vineyards. Clearly, God wants us to consider how to grow in a sustainable way in order to renew the face of the earth. I've never been more certain of that than I was this morning. I had written the above over the course of the last few weeks. I clicked over to visit Aimee in order to link to her in my post. When I did, I learned she's writing today about sustainable homeschooling. My jaw dropped and I smiled widely at God's thunk over my head. If ever I asked for a sign that I was on the right track, I got a clear answer at 7:00 AM on Tuesday January 29th while visiting Aimee's blog. It's a post that just might easily have catapulted to my favorite home education post ever this morning. There is wisdom there, my friends. Rich, rich wisdom. Get this: middle aged wisdom. Yep. There is wisdom and it's invaluable.

I look around at the friends with whom I've had babies and I am blessed to know that they've grown wise. How amazing! We all learned something during those hazy, intense, sleep-deprived years.

So, now I embrace renewal. I look to tend the vineyard of my soul, to be sure, but I am not going to neglect the rest of me any more. The big picture of renewal is one that encompasses physical health, spirtual growth, creative energy and enthusiasm, and an invigorated sense of hope and optimism for the future. I look to my home, to my homeschooling, to the relationships within these walls and to the people I love beyond these walls. Renewal. All of it is waiting to be made new again. 

What a different perspective than that of a withering towards an inevitable end. We can renew and renew and renew again, until our dying breath. God is generous that way.

I've talked a bit about stillness. About allowing Him to come in the silence.

Be still and know that I am God.

The last two weeks at Mass, an old familiar hymn has settled on my soul in a new way. I've listened to You Are Mine and heard the refrain of stillness. I will come to you in the silence. But I've also heard the rest. I heard the echoes of Isaiah 43:1

But now, thus says the LORD,

who created you, Jacob, and formed you, Israel:

Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;

I have called you by name: you are mine.

There is nothing to fear. I am redeemed. 

And the promise of John 14:27

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give it to you. Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid

Transitions can be scary. Aging can be scary. Renewal, though? The sustainable model of growth that keeps us renewing until we reach heaven? That's peace.

Last year, was a hard year. It was exhausting. It was a compost year, I think. A year of creating very fertile ground for renewal. 

The Best Wine

As I was going into Mass Sunday morning, I saw a young mom struggling with a preschooler, a toddler, and a bulky, heavy infant seat. I helped her with the door and pushed away a now familiar pang. I know it is a struggle; that stage of parenting is super hard. But I liked it. No, I really, really loved it. Revelled in it. I miss it.

Last September, Mike and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary with a trip to northern California. It was Mike's idea--completely, totally, and 100% Mike's idea. He's been many times for business and he was certain I'd love it there. I was certain that I have a fear of airplanes and earthquakes and being very far from my children. I was certain that Sarah Annie was not going to be thrilled about weaning (despite the fact that she was absolutely old enough).  I was certain it was imprudent to plan any sort of trip out of town during the first week of the school year. He was gently insistent.

I was nervous, too. We'd never been away from our children for a whole week. Come to think of it, we'd never really spent a week together without him working since 1996. And that was the one vacation we'd taken in all our married life.  What if we got bored with each other? I knew that this season--the one begun when Michael's engagement coincided with the obvious fact that our baby days are over--was not the season I'd always lived in my dreams. That was the season just ending. What if I hated this season?

He wanted to start in Napa, in wine country. I didn't drink wine. What in the world was he thinking? I am the child who saw alcoholism up close and personal. Wine sets off buzzers and beepers and PTSD. Wine? Seriously?  He was thinking that I love agriculture, that I throw myself headlong into the land and I want to see it and smell it and touch it and taste it and... well, frankly winemaking is the total package. I was dubious.

But I said yes. One morning, under a deadline, I emailed him this column to proofread. And at the very end, I wrote "Let's go to San Francisco. I trust you."

So we did.

I know he worried as we drove away from the San Francisco airport. I tried to look cheerful, but my heart sunk. It was pretty ugly. But then, as we drew near to Sausalito,the cloud lifted and my soul soared. From that moment on, the trip was absolutely everything he'd hoped and so much more than I imagined. 

First, the whole wine thing was a huge success. I loved Napa valley. Just absolutely loved it. And, now, I kind of like wine, too. It's a hobby we share. From there, the trip just kept surprising me with joy. 

One night, in Monterey, after I'd skipped down Cannery Row (yes, really, skipped), and flitted through a Ghirardelli shop, and inhaled the beach at sunset (the first time I'd ever seen the sun set over the water), we had dinner outdoors. Actually, we ate outdoors almost every night, but on this night, I remember revelling in the idea that no matter how empty our house became, the "us"--Mike and me together--would be so full. And I think I was a little surprised.

So, last Sunday at Mass, when that familiar wave of want washed over me, I remembered sharing wine and conversation on the water in Monterey. I remembered that we did this, but I had a growing sense that there is true renewal in this season of life. The end of childbearing isn't the end; it's the beginning of something even deeper.

I nearly cried when Father began his homily by saying that the wine in the wedding at Cana is a symbol of joy and the wedding is analagous to marriage itself. He went on to explain that everyone expects the good wine at the beginning and so, too, everyone focuses on the giddy joy of the newly married years. For us, those were good years. And "giddy" is an excellent word for them. We worked super hard. We also giggled. A lot. 

Father went on to say that the bridal couple doesn't even notice as the joy begins to run out. It's the Blessed Mother who watches over the pair and it's she who points to the solution to the problem of lack. Do whatever he tells you. And then, everyone is surprised by the abundant excellent wine later in the wedding celebration. Later in marriage. There is this growing sense of forever joy. Forever.

Joy.

Fine, miraculous, consecrated, holy. Joy. 

We can drink deep and give thanks.

 

Wedding Day: Lord, Hear Our Prayer

 

 

Twenty-five years ago today, a new life began. It grew from the love of a brand-new marriage. Nine months later, on September 29, 1988, a son was born. My firstborn. The baby who made me Mama, who made us family.

Today, that boy--now grown to a man--will take a wife. In many ways, he's grown up here in this space and in the pages of books and newspapers. We've stumbled along together, he and I, learning as we go, and sharing those lessons with all of you.

I'm at a loss for words. I have been all month.

I tend to take a while to process big things and this is a very big thing. We head to church this morning to meet both the same priest who baptized Michael and our dear pastor, who will concelebrate the marriage. My heart is full--very, very full. I'm eager to encircle Kristin, to call her daughter-in-love, and to fully celebrate this new beginning. But as I said, I'm at a loss for words. So, I beg your prayers for us this weekend and for Michael and Kristin as they begin their new life together.  And I leave you with Mike's words from last night, when he welcomed family and friends after the rehearsal.

 

I thought a fair-amount about what I might be able to share this evening….something that would capture what Elizabeth and I are feeling this weekend.  Coupled with that, I also considered the amount of time I would be allowed to speak before my sons would begin shouting me down.  I think I have about 30-seconds left.

Mark and Terumi, distinguished grandparents, family and friends, thank you for accepting our invitation tonight and for sharing this evening with us.  Elizabeth and I are very grateful.

In spite of what anyone might tell you (and by anyone I suppose I mean our current culture), this life is about relationships.

What we share and what others are willing to share with us.

What we do for others and what we allow others to do for us.

About half of this room is filled with people who have supported Elizabeth and me for at least 30 years and in many cases, closer to 50.  They were there to help us through school, help us through cancer, to help us change the diapers of nine children and help to drive to so many soccer games and ballet rehearsals that it would be impossible to count.

I know the other half of the room is filled with those who have supported Mark and Terumi in a similar fashion.  And while I may not know the specifics of their actions, I do know something about life…..and this outward demonstration, their attendance here tonight, is life.

As I look around this room tonight, each and every person can claim a special relationship with Kristin and Michael.  Grandparents, aunts and uncles, sisters and brothers, and many friends.  As you both consider the weekend ahead, I hope you will take time to reflect on the love and the support which surrounds you tonight, which will surround you tomorrow and which will surround you for years to come.

Kristin and Michael, as you have learned, marriage in the Catholic Church is a grace-filled sacrament.   As the early 20^th century Belgian Priest and theologian, Jacques Leclercq wrote:

The sacrament of marriage is the imprint of God on the souls of the married couple, not merely in order to deify their life in general, but in order to deify their union . . . The sacrament of marriage is thus not merely a religious act sanctifying a human one, it is a seed sown in the soul and bearing fruit through the whole of married life, giving life to all its acts and sentiments . . . it is a predisposition to holiness placed in their souls by God on the day of their wedding.

As you celebrate the powerful and grace-filled sacrament of marriage and enjoy the events of this weekend,  I pray that you will find time to reflect upon the many blessings God has bestowed upon you.  Particularly the blessings of your family and your friends who have gathered with you tonight.

May God grant you many years and may He bless your marriage forever.  We love you both.

 

video credit: Mary Beth Foss, with help from Kristin's sister, Cherise.

Homecoming

Yesterday, the painter found this picture. It made me smile and then, unexpectedly, cry (this may or may not have to do with lack of sleep and the influence of paint fumes). This picture was taken October 31, 1982. Homecoming, my senior year of high school.

It's Homecoming Week in our small town. My children don't go to the local high school, but Patrick is going to the dance with Hilary and Mary Beth is going with Hilary's younger brother, Jack (I know, too cute, right?). I told Hilary earlier this week that I remember the homecoming dance my senior year as the absolute best night of high school. 

I remember sitting with Mike late into the night and planning our future. Never mind that this night came after the world's rockiest high school "romance" (if it was even that). And never mind there were still plenty of tears yet to shed. In that moment of time, we were perfect. I don't really remember the details, but I do remember him saying something about a big family-- four kids sounded good to him. I also remember we planned to open a day care center and school, firmly rooted in Montessori. I detailed for him every nuance of educational philosophy and prepared environment. He was totally on board. We were going to change the world, beginning with the children.

So, that all worked out, right? We have our own little cottage school. (And exactly 26 years after that perfect date, we welcomed our ninth baby into the world.)

Sally Clarkson writes, "As a younger woman, I struggled with many of the scriptures referring to a woman's role in life. But the more I have lived, the more I have come to appreciate the beauty and wisdom of my God-given assignment. As a free-spirted person who generally thinks outside the box, I have found deep fulfillment and satisfaction in exercising my gifts, strengths,and personality to bless my family, neighbors, and friends from the strength of my home. Establishing my household as a place in which the greatness of God and a devotion to him is lived out each day has given me focus. Loving my children and nurturing their hearts and minds while training their characters and leading them to know the Lord and his purposes has satisfied my soul's need for purpose. The Mission of Motherhood,

I wish I could show you how my home looks this morning. The contractor who promised we'd do one room at a time has successfully put every single room on the main floor and my bedroom and bathroom out of commission at the same time. There is no shower available to anyone at this moment. No room is untouched by this process of transformation. Mike was up until 2:00 this morning re-wiring the bathroom. I'm bone tired. But these words--this one paragraph of Sally's-- is propelling me through this day.

Tonight, my teenagers and their friends will come here for brunch after the dance. I have a vision. It's not a business and a school and a few advanced degrees. It's a home and a handmade meal. And by golly, it's going to be warm and welcoming and beautiful. As I move about my space, putting things back in order (even bettter than before), I am so grateful for a soul overflowing with a sense of His purpose. I am grateful for a life of love lived in out in the strength of my home. I am ever so grateful for homecomings.

~~~

This post is part of 31 Days To Remind Myself of the Mission. I'd love to hear your thoughts about mission and vocation in the comment box. Find all the posts in the series here. And please, help yourself to a button if you want one for your blog. I'd love to read what you say there. 

 

<a href="http://www.elizabethfoss.com/reallearning/2012/09/31-days-to-remind-myself-of-the-mission.html" _mce_href="http://www.elizabethfoss.com/reallearning/2012/09/31-days-to-remind-myself-of-the-mission.html"><img src="http://www.elizabethfoss.com/.a/6a00d8341c543553ef017c323f2b90970b-pi" _mce_src="http://www.elizabethfoss.com/.a/6a00d8341c543553ef017c323f2b90970b-pi"width="125"height="125"border="0" alt="31 days Misson"/></a>

 

Forever In the Forest

He took my hand as we started down the path and I couldn't help but think how strange it felt. Try as I might, I could not think of any other time within the last quarter century that I had walked a wooded trail without a baby within, or strapped to my chest, or holding my hand. Or all three.

And still, it felt really right. If I were asked to pick a moment when I first knew--really knew--that I was in love with this man, it was on a wooded trail. The man was a boy back then. Those woods, those dear, familiar east coast woods, were so very young compared to the woods we were about to walk that day in California. 

How fitting then, that this clear September day found us in the woods again. The grown-up woods. Even the grown-old woods. For nearly half the Septembers of our marriage I have been round with child. But not this September, or the three just past. It's been a process of letting go. I was the mom with the baby for so long and I loved being that mom so much. The letting go has not been quick or easy. I am painfully aware that the seasons of autumn babies are no more. Slowly, I see glimpses of what lies ahead, in these years after babies. More than anything I am struck by how full they can be of that first love, the one that set the rest in motion.

He's still here. My heart still skips a beat every single time I encounter him again after he's been away. It's not that young, green love of the forest by the lake in the town where we were children. It's a big, grown up love, the kind you find in a forest with scarred trunks and soaring treetops. So we set off down the path, just us, beginning a new season of our lives together.

The trees were breathtaking. They are massive, old trees, trees with a history that stretches back a full 2,000 years. My camera was no match for their immense presence. I could not begin to capture the essence of that forest. 

I stood and stared long and hard inside the burned out redwood. Trees created to last forever? Truly made of resilient stuff. The fire burned within, but it didn't kill the tree. Instead, the tree grew anew. I thought of the grave realities we met so early, the really scary stuff, the heated words, the tired anger, the every day hard work of figuring it all out. The fires of us. And there he was. Still. Tall and strong against the sky. New life, new love growing still, reaching heavenward. Always reaching heavenward.

 

He delighted in my awe, watching me dance along the shaded path as if I were a character in an Elsa Beskow book. I could tell he was well pleased with himself for insisting we go all that way to see the trees. I told him I could stay there forever. He suggested we send for the children. The children! They would love the giant forest we discovered. We'll bring them back there, I promised myself. And we'll get them out in their own eastern woods more often. 

I left with great reluctance, inhaling deep the scent of that rich forest as if I could keep the big wonder of it inside of me even as we went. Trees. Trees put there by the Creator around the time the Son walked the same earth. Forever trees. It's a mystery, really, how anything can last forever in this disposable world. Some things do, though.

Forever.

A mystery.

And a grace. 

With my Heart in San Francisco

If you're growing weary of my travelogue, I do apologize. I think my parents are enjoying it and I know Mike is loving it, so I plan to continue to work my way through my pictures and add words as I go.

We reluctantly left Napa and headed back into San Francisco. This is a city that MIke knows well. It occurred to me more than once how his frequent traveling was blessing our time together. Beyond the obvious frequent flyer, car, and hotel points (and those were huge), he knows how to travel well. I just followed his lead. 

On our way in, we wound up a mountain and then pulled over. Mike wanted me to look from that height across to the Golden Gate Bridge. And I did. That might not be a big deal to some people, but I have a serious fear of heights and this trip was all about conquering that impediment. Pretty amazing view. I'm glad we stopped. I'm really glad I got out of the car. 

We went to lunch at The Slanted Door, a Vietnamese restaurant that overlooks San Francisco Bay. What a view! Just an aside, we had an interesting conversation about gray hair. We'd noticed that many of our servers were our age or older and all of the women had naturally gray hair. And all of them were really very pretty. So, I extended my people-watching on the topic of gray and looked around. I think leaving one's hair gray is more acceptable in the west? Am I wrong here? I notice new grays every day and I'm not inclined to color. Mike and I made a deal that if he gets to thinking it looks like steel wool, he'll let me know pronto.

After lunch, we walked around a bit and headed to our hotel. There, I changed into some serious athletic walking shoes. They were a last minute gift from Patrick--our resident Mr. Nike-- and I'm so glad I tossed them in my suitcase. We walked. And walked. And walked. It was glorious. I'm not a city person at all, but a city like this could change my mind. Walking it was the perfect way to experience it. And all those significantly steep hills? The better to work up an appetite for amazing food.

We walked from the hotel down to the wharf where the sea lions bask in the sun. The sea lion picture was a must for Nicky, but it's the worst of the trip (sorry). We meandered a little around the shops at the pier and then looked up towards a steeple. Then, we just started walking that way. Straight up, it seemed. Mike kept asking if I wanted to take a cab. I most definitely did not. I had been working out and eating Paleo for months to get ready for this trip. Bring on the hills!

The church was St. Peter and Paul. It was open and we went in to admire its majesty. There was a group there and I felt out of place and awkward, so we didn't stay long. We started walking again.

 

This time, we walked through Chinatown and into the financial district and to Old St. Mary's. We arrived at 6:00. Just in time for Vespers. Only the church was locked up tight. 

So we walked again. I thought it would be fun to visit St. Francis parish in San Francisco. It looked nice from the outside. Locked up, too. What's up with the locked up churches in California?

From there, we walked Nob Hill, stopped at a sushi restaurant to buy takeout for dinner and then threaded our way back from whence we came. Downhill. Awesome.

The next morning, I got up and out early, by myself no less-- in the big city. I found Starbucks using the app on my phone and walked a whole block alone:-).  Then we took a little spin around Lombard Street. Oh, my!

We left the city pretty early in the day. Mike had big plans. Big, big, gigantic plans. 

More later.

Him

Twenty-five years ago he had a proposal that sounded so impossible I could scarcely envsion it. He had plans and dreams and ideas that were a world I'd never even imagined. But I said yes. 

Because I trusted him.

And, together, we brought those dreams to life and we dreamed new dreams.

Together.

Looking back over a quarter century of chances taken, every single time, I was afraid. Every single time, I could not begin to fathom that all would be well. But I said yes.

Because I trusted him.

And now, as I look at the tapestry of our lives woven together, I see the thread running bold and bright throughout. 

Trust.

I knew that he loved me intensely and forever, that I was safe with him. I knew that he was true. Real. Genuine. 

Not perfect.

But honest. 

And when he said he was giving me his whole life. He meant it.

Nothing held back. Nothing hidden. 

I took his hand. I looked at the leap we were taking.

I knew there would be curves in the road.

What? Where?

I had no idea.

But I knew--I was sure--that this was the man I wanted to lead me. This was the heart I trusted with mine. This was real. 

So I said yes.

I say it again every day.

And I always will. 

 

The Other Man in my Life

On the occasion of my 25th wedding anniversary, I'm thinking about the other man in my life. Please join me at MomHeart this morning.

I'll be back later today to smile about my husband:-).

Reminiscing

In two weeks, my husband and I will celebrate our 25th wedding anniversary. Jenny has discovered an anniversary memory from 15 years ago. Will you stop for a moment with me at Suscipio today and remember when...

7 Habits in the iGeneration

Do you ever consider the legacy you are leaving? I admit, I do. Probably, I think about it too much. I think that's a longterm effect of cancer survival (we're never sure when the cancer caused by the chemo is going to pop up) and I think it's related to having baby girls after 40. When they are my age, what will they know of me? What can I leave for them that will encourage them when I am not able to do that? It might be a middle-age thing to think about legacy.

Honestly, though, I've been thinking it since I was 24. Cancer thing, definitely. Shortly before I was diagnosed, an influential book hit the bestseller's list. Stephen Covey was writing compellingly about living intentionally and leaving a meaningful legacy. I was earnestly seeking father figures in my twenties and this guy fit the bill. 

Stephen Covey died a few weeks ago. I cried. I was surprised by my reaction, but it reminded me just how much he influenced me way back when. I took the book from the shelf, dusted it off, and wrote about it here.

Answering Questions: Dads Who Work Hard. Really hard.

I'm trying to answer some questions from the last few weeks. In this post, Greg from USA Today said:

I have read nearly all of your backposts and I just have a couple of questions:

1) How did you do it with your husband seemingly never at home to help?

2) Do you regret the decision to have him work 2 jobs at the same time?

Dear Greg,

1. We struggled through together, each granting the other grace. (Note, sometimes we failed miserably in this area, but we tried. We still try. And we're getting better at it as we get older.)  I really do believe that the biggest help is attitude. I never allow myself for a moment to think that I'm a single parent. That's self-defeating for me: If I think that way, I fail to see how blessed I am to have emotional support of a loving husband, to have financial support, to have reunions and homecomings and late night phone calls. Single moms have none of those things. I don't live with the pain of divorce or death. I live knowing that I am loved by an amazingly wonderful man.  I don't mean to candy-coat it. It was--and is--hard. Really hard. Especially with teenagers and toddlers together. But I'm not a single mom. Not by a longshot.

And it's downright insulting to him to consider myself as a single mom. He's working for US. That's the point. His job doesn't serve him; it serves our family. I wrote about that here: An Active Love.

Also, when we were younger, Mike's father was younger. Actually, he was older as fathers go. I remind myself that he was the same age when I was born as I was when Sarah was born. 42. That means that he was retirement age when our firstborn was born. And retire he did. For the first 20 years of our marriage, he was readily available to help me any way he could and he filled in a lot of those dad places--repairs, carpools, even vacuuming when I was pregnant. Repairs. Did I mention repairs? He's been unable to do those things in the past five years or so and I have felt his absence keenly. In many ways, he was the wind beneath my wings and I will always be grateful for his generous help.

Some women find that support in a military community of wives. Others find it in their mothers, mothers-in-law, or sisters. And some have truly super great local friends. I think it's pretty much impossible to do it without some adult support. I remember years ago, when Stephen was a baby. His doctor and I spent a long week together when my newborn was admitted at 2-weeks-old. The doctor had just joined the practice and his family was really young. He asked me what he could do to make his hours easier on his wife. I didn't hesitate to tell him to get her a cleaning lady. He was so surprised! But it was the first thing that came to my mind. Those early years are so physically intense. Another adult to bear those burdens, even a little bit, is a huge help. I used to wish that someone would offer to just come hold and walk with the baby for a half hour so I could fold laundry. That's such a simple--and desperate--wish. (Granddad could not bear fussy babies;-).

More often than not, there was no one. We muddled through--a crew of small children and me. Friends from the beginning drifted away as our family grew and we chose to homeschool; we just didn't have as much in common any more. Then we moved to a very new neighborhood with very few people and even fewer homeschoolers. And no Catholic homeschoolers at first. There was support in neighboring towns, but that involved driving and relinquishing naptime and sometimes, the tradeoff was more than I could bear. It was hard. And if there's a lesson in it for me--for us--it's to be on the lookout for people in my life right now who bear similar burdens. We can be a support to one another. We just have to be active about looking for ways to help and about reaching out and asking. All my asking was in my mind. I never spoke the words aloud to anyone but God. I should have.

Here are ten more essential tips for coping when dad's away.

2. Regret? I don't know. I don't really go there and neither does Mike. It was something we did together. Something that allowed us to live in this area, where all our extended family was when we made that decision. Something that allowed me to stay home. To homeschool. To write. He takes providing opportunities for his children very seriously and he saw building his career through both a "steady" job and freelance as the way to do it. He was right.  I trusted him then and I trust him now. I trust.

And so, no, I guess I don't regret. I don't think trust and regret can co-exist.

Now, I have a question for you, Greg. Did you strike up a conversation with Michael in the elevator at USA Today a few weeks ago? If so, thank you:-) He told me about it and I sort of thought he was just making it up because I was having one of those "I want to throw the computer out the window" kinds of days. You made me reconsider and saved my Macbook from certain doom;-).

Prayerful Sex

This my second installation of NFP Throwback in honor of NFP Awareness Week. For the full introduction, please read here.

Without further ado, here's a column from Summer 1993. My current editorializing is in pink:

I recently asked a young man who is about to be married what advice he had received concerning marriage. He looked me straight in the eye and said, "The only advice my mother has given me is that no marriage can have too much of two things: sex and prayer." As I  recall, I turned very red and quickly inquired about china patterns. But the words have stuck with me. Now I wish I could sit with his mother and discover what other pearls of wisdom she has to offer. 

Because I know this young man, I know his mother was referring to unselfish marital sex. It is wholly appropriate to discuss lovemaking and prayer in the same context. That is how God intended it. Married love should embrace the Lord, creator of life. The unitive nature of making love and the procreative nature are inextricably intertwined. To deny either one is to deny God, who invested sex with that quality. In order to know God's will regarding the conception of children, the couple must pray together. It is that constant communication, with each other and with God that makes Natural Family Planning (NFP) so good for marriages.

In my last post, I shared the myriad of options the medical community makes available to couples who are planning their families. And we discovered what a euphemism "options" is. Rather than arbitrary, heavy-handed rules, the Church's stand on birth control is a protective measure, which shields couples from the evil inherent in all forms of artificial birth control and encourages them to consider God's will in every aspect of their lives.

NFP is not the rhythm method. It does not solely rely on a "safe time of the month." Instead, it is a scientific method in which married and engaged couples note, chart, and interpret the woman's fertility signs. The couple considers the time of the month, basal body temperature, cervical mucous, and physical attributes of the cervix itself. When used properly,it is every bit as effective as the pill.

It is not my intention to tell couples how to use NFP, but to tell them why NFP makes so much more sense than artificial birth control. Many couples decide on a form of contraception and then rarely discuss sex in terms of children. I wonder how many women, before they take their pills every morning, consider what God's plan is for their families. I wonder how many men ever think about the pill at all, even when their wives take it daily. Contraception becomes a routine part of day-today life-- a mechanization requiring little thought and no communication.

NFP enhances communciation between spouses. It is a shared responsibility. Most importantly, this cooperative effort embraces God. An NFP couple must not only discuss sex, but to use NFP properly, they must pray about it. It is a blessing to a marriage when God is included in the  sacred act He created. NFP requires prayerful consideration. It does seem that couples using NFP have more children than other couples. None of those children are "accidents." These couples have prayerfully considered life more often and are more open to divine intervention in the family planning. Above all, marriage partners who are open to God's plan know the peace of cooperation with the love of the Creator.

Marriage is hard work. I won't deny that NFP is work, too. I don't know of anything of value in interpersonal relationships that doesn't require some effort. NFP requires faithfulness. It requires some sacrifice, a dying to self. But that is what love is all about--giving for the good of another. That is not a bad thing. When they are choosing abstinence, couples experience a time of "courtship." They are challenged to find alternate expressions of love and they experiences the joys inherent to those expressions.

Finally, NFP is wonderful witness to children. When my children are adolescents and I want to impress upon them the merits of chastity, I will speak from a personal perspective, telling them about the sanctity of sex within a marriage, about sacrifice, and fidelity. I'll urge them to prayerfully consider God's will and His plan for their lives. Iwill be able to empathize with how difficult it is to deny the urgings of the flesh because I will be living a chaste life. [Note: Now that my children are of this age, I recognize the huge role a community of faith plays. When you are surrounded by supportive friends, this lifestyle is more readily embraced than when you are all alone in the culture. Whether married or single, living sexuality as God intended requires open communication and a shared of philosophy within the couple and, ideally, surrounding the couple. Cultivating that community is infinitely valuable.] I will tell them that I know what it feels like to be in love and to gratefully accept God's blessings upon a union. And when they are about to be married, I will tell them that a good marriage can never have too much of two things: sex and prayer.

NFP: 19 years later

It's NFP Awareness week. This year, there's a bold, fresh website on the scene to take on the challenge of introducing Natural Family Planning to a new, decidedly digital generation. There's a great new collection of articles there that I'm sure will enlighten most everyone. And there's more: iusenfp.com is another new site--this one run by two young women--designed to promote the value of natural family planning. 

I heartily applaud the efforts of these young people (and I feel a bit like my grandmother calling them "these young people."). As I read them, I remember being young and married and not at all a part of the contraceptive culture. While I think these sites do run a calculated risk of sounding a bit like "The Natural Approach to Contraception," I think the good outweighs the potential for misinterpretation. They're definitely getting good information out there, information that is not readily available on the maintstream information superhighway. Over the years, I've grown to appreciate the spiritual aspects above all the rest. Openness to life is the ultimate self-improvement --God-improvement-- program. Hopefully, that, too, will come from these young writers.

My early NFP days predate said superhighway. I learned about NFP mostly from another young teacher who was also a newlywed at the first school where I taught. I had heard of it during an Engaged Encounter just before the school year began (we were married the first week of school), and Betsy followed up with her own experience. She was open and frank, but not nearly as frank as what's floating out there now. From there, I did some reading on my own and we took a Couple-to-Couple League class. 

We had decided on that Engaged Encounter not to contracept. And, frankly, we were pretty much open to whatever God had in mind. We welcomed our first baby just after our first anniversary. And I would do it exactly that way in heartbeat, if I had it to do again. It wasn't really until after that baby, and after cancer, that we started to understand the theology behind NFP. Our early marriage story is pretty different from most, but it's dear to us. 

Anyway, that's a rather longer introduction than I planned. All that to say, I figured that since I'm old enough to call the 1flesh.org folk "these young people," I should probably go back and dig up my own words before I share what I thought about NFP back in the beginning. I have three artcles from exactly 19 years ago today to share over the next three days. These were originally published in the Arlington Catholic Herald on the occasion of the 25th anniversary of the very prophetic Humanae Vitae. I'm going to try to refrain from editorializing too much. The articles are just as I wrote them, with my comments today in pink.

Here we go:

There are table tents set up all around the waiting room of the OB/GYN office where I teach childbirth classes. "Ask about your birth control options," they scream from every corner of the room. Ask indeed. I wonder what I would be told.

Would I be told that the pill is an abortifacient? I don't think so. Rare is the doctor who sit down with a patient and discusses the fine print. Most couples know that the pill often prevents pregnancy by suppressing ovulation and altering the cervical mucus. But how many people understand the ultimate "back up"? When a baby is conceived, he is aborted without his mother's knowledge because hormones have rendered the uterus inhospitable to life. Some option! Before a woman could even consider her choices, the hormone in the pill she takes so routinely can abort her baby. All hormonal contraceptives work in a similar manner.

Norplant, new and trendy though it appears, is merely a steady stream of hormones for five years. A woman will never have to give birth control a second thought. But will she think about what those hormones are doing to the natural chemsitry of her body?  [Note: Norplant was discontinued in the United States about ten years after it was introduced. Hmmm]. 

Depo-Provera, a recently introduced injectable hormone contraception, provides up to three months protection against pregnancy, while remaining in the body and preventing the resumption of a normal cycle for up to eighteen month. Of course, once it has been injected the woman is stuck with it. Once they give her the shot, she can't take it out--for better or worse, no matter what the "side effects." ["Side effects" is a joke term. All efects of a drug are just that, effects. They may not be what you signed up for, but they are effects. Incidentally, Depo-Provera is Melinda Gates' drug of choice. You can read more on that here.]

Let's consider the side effects. "Side effects" are what the pharmaceutical companies call the unpleasant effects of drugs. They all listed in a rather lengthy insert included with every prescription of hormonal contraceptives. A woman may not experience every effect of the drug. But the list--which includes risk of blood clots, heart attack and strokes, gallbladder disease, liver tumors, headache, nervousness, depression and hair loss--is pretty scary reading material. Most couples never even glance at the insert. 

Then there are the other "options" which society and the medical community present to us. Another abortifacient, the IUD, works to prevent an embryo [a real live baby] from implanting in his mother's uterus. Instant abortion. Barrier methods, especially the condom which the popular press holds in such high esteem, prevent the very physical intimacy that lovemaking seeks and deny the unitive as well as the procreative nature of intercourse. And as far as spontaneity and romance go, I don't think it's spontaneous or romantic to go to bed with barriers between us.

When the couples in my classes ask me about birth control and I mention NFP, I amost always get the "you-must-be-an-extremist-hope-to-have-ten-kids" look [I was 27, with two children, when I wrote this. I am well aware that this line is amusing now. In a very, very good way.] I've often heard that the Catholic Church is unrealistic, rigid, and chauvinistic in its approach to contraception. I disagree.

When my husband and I really looked at the "options," when we took the time to educate ourselves about what was being professed by the secular society versus what the Church taught, we found that the Church was not only reasonable, but very supportive of marital sex. Far from being evil, in a Christian marriage, sex is a high and noble thing--a gift from God. The Church approves of lovemaking, even if for serious reasons the couple isn't trying to achieve pregnancy. The Church's stand on birth control seeks not to make life difficult by to help married couples make a good thing even better. Sex is holy; it is God's idea. And openness to children is an integral part of God's plan. 

Artificial birth control isn't good for women. And it isn't good for marriages. It deprives couples the third party in their union. God. When sex denies life, it denies Life. That is, it excludes the Creator of Life. once He is exclueded, one third of the mrriage covenant participants has been asked to leave--the wisest one. In my nex tpost, we'll consider Natural Family Planning, a way to plan families that embraces God.

[Am I a bad witness for NFP because I have nine children? I don't think so. I don't think so at all. I think there is a danger to think that good or successful use of NFP guarantees that your family makeup will look just like that of pharmaceutical family planners. If so, then clearly you have excellent scientific charting skills and applaudable self-control. I've even seen blogs where couples have practiced for years and never knew these few lines existed in the Church's teaching: With regard to physical, economic, psychological and social conditions, responsible parenthood is exercised by those who prudently and generously decide to have more children, and by those who, for serious reasons and with due respect to moral precepts, decide not to have additional children for either a certain or an indefinite period of time.  

We learned quickly that we couldn't out-give God. His generosity--of adequate wealth, but more importantly of grace and strength--was sufficient. Always. For us, NFP was there, an underpinning of an awareness of fertility and hormonal cycles. Every one of those nine children was welcomed enthusiastically. We knew there would be challenges. And we trusted He would equip and bless. He always has.]