It's January! Time for a fresh start, a new devotional. Just a few minutes a day to Think. Pray. and set an intention to Act accordingly.
Here's today's entry:
Think
"It is above all in the home that, before ever a word is spoken, children should experience God's love in the love which surrounds them." ~ Blessed John Paul II
~*~
Pray
Dear sweet Lord, before I open my mouth to speak, help me to relax my shoulders and smile. Then, let whatever comes out of my mouth be an expression of your love.
~*~
Act
How do your children experience God's love in your home? When we smile, our faces relflect the joy we have in knowing we are loved unconditionally by our benevolent Father.
Smile at your family today--often.
I have five copies of Small Steps for Catholic Moms to give to you today. I'd like to autograph them for you or for a special mom in your life. Would you give something to me? If you want a copy of the book, please leave a comment with your favorite inspirational quote-- a favorite Bible verse, a quote from a saint, something really great from C. S. Lewis. Tell me what speaks to your heart.
This week, I tried to sew all the things that I've been promising the girls we'd sew "this summer." I didn't even come close. Karoline had a sweet piece of needlework long finished, that I'd suggested for a pillow. She chose fabric from the stash and pieced together a bit of a log cabin square. I referred to my pillow tutorial and she made a sweet cover. Delighted doesn't even come close to capturing how she feels about it (and herself). Bonus points: she happens to have a matching sundress. Everyone matches their dresses with their throw pillows, right?
Then, we made some notebook covers. The girls each have a new compostion book for the new school year. Sarah and Kari are using their for journals. Katie calls hers a "conversation book" and she's begun a dialogue with Kristin. Very cute. Kristin's thinking deep thoughts while barfing, by the way.
I've used Rachel's tutorial every time, embellishing a bit differently with each cover.
All in all, some fun playing with pretty fabric just before the school year kicks into high gear. That lofty list of sewing goals? Oh, dear. Time is closing in quickly.
In the reading department, this volume has become available at Amazon:-). I've been reading through (which is so not the way it's intended to be read) and pondering ways to create community online around folks who are using the book along with me. There was a book club suggestion on Instagram. Not sure what that would look like. I'd also like to find the way to make the Small Steps Companion Journal available to you in some form even though it's not going to be republished. Thinking thoughts. Dreaming dreams. Dream along with me? I'm happy to hear your thoughts.
What are you reading and sewing this week?
I am eager to hear!
Or are you embroidering? Pulling a needle with thread through lovely fabric to make life more beautiful somehow? Would you share with us just a single photo (or more) and a brief description of what you're up to? Will you tell us about what you're reading, also? Would you talk sewing and books with us? I'd love that so much.
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 theREAD post below in the comments, and not a needle and theREAD 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:-).
Joy. Pink, sparkly letters glint the word from my mantel.
They’ve been there since Gaudete Sunday and they will remain there through
January. Joy. That Christmas morning joy. I want to hold it, keep it, live
it well past the last few notes of
“We Three Kings.”
Christmas is exhausting. Who’s with me here? Moms? There’s
so much heart and soul and effort and energy poured into the tastes and
treasures and traditions of the holiday. Sometimes it’s easy to lose sight of
the soul-gift we are given. But when the afternoon light is
bouncing off the ornaments and bits of paper and ribbon remain in the corner
beneath the tree and I have a moment to sit and be still in the quiet giddiness
that comes after Christmas morning, I know joy. I hold it close, examine it
carefully, tell myself not to forget.
And then there’s the flu. It came to visit, too. Virginia,
it’s not Christmas any more.
If it’s genuine joy though, can it be lost? In the tired and
the cold and the mundane of the post-holiday days, do we really lose joy?
St. Francis of Assisi wrote “When spiritual joy fills
hearts, the Serpent throws off his deadly poison in vain. The devils cannot
harm the servant of Christ when they see he is filled with holy joy.” When
Christmas fills us, when the Baby truly enters us and stays there, even January
is joy.
Mothers, especially, are guardians of joy. Whether we intend
to or not, we set the tone in our households. I watch my children carefully and
I see the serpents circling. What to do? How to fill their hearts with
spiritual joy and banish the serpents from my home? Blessed Mother Teresa
gently reminds me that “Joy is infectious; therefore, always be full of joy.”
Later, she says, “Joy is a net of love by which you can catch souls. A joyful
heart is the inevitable result of a heart burning with love. “ It begins with
me. I must fill myself with joy so that it spills into every crevice of my
home.
Joy is the Small Steps virtue for January. This January, I'm resolved to teach it, to share, to live it together.
New year’s resolution? To fill heart and soul to overflowing
with Jesus so that joy is contagious. To listen to Him daily in the Word. To
thank Him always, affirming that He is the font of all blessings and that He is
even God over adversity. To trust in His sovereignty and willfully make Him
lord of all. To worship Him daily in the Mass. To gratefully take Him into
myself in Communion. And to remain in constant conversation. Contagious
Christmas Joy. All year ‘round.
I welcome you to needle and thREAD. What have you been sewing lately? Or are you embroidering? Pulling a needle with thread through lovely fabric to make life more beautiful somehow? Would you share with us just a single photo (or more) and a brief description of what you're up to? Will you tell us about what you're reading, also? Would you talk sewing and books with us? I'd love that so much.
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 theREAD post below in the comments, and not a needle and theREAD 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:-).
~ ~
I finished up the machine sewing on last week's tunic. All that remains now is the handsewing of the facing all the way around the front and back yoke. Um. As soon as I learn what a whipstitch is. Alrighty then.
When we read (and read and read and reread) Crafty Chloe, I promised my girls that we would make doll dresses just like Chloe did. I planned to do all three on one day, letting each of them help with their own, but I only finished Karoline's. It's amazing how much more slowly this project goes with help;-) Katie does have one from the fall. Sarah Annie doesn't have an 18 inch doll. She's got some lovely baby dolls, though. I need to find a pattern for a baby doll outfit. Anyone have one of those?
It turns out that Karoline's doll will match two of her outfits: both her twirly skirt and her Easter dress were made from Ruby by Bonnie and Camille. Since Karoline chooses that fabric every time she has a choice, I think it's safe to say she's a big fan. And she's got excellent taste. I probably would have chosen a different color thread for the ric-rac, but hey, can't argue with "that's my favorite color ever" and "it matches my eyes." I did, however, deny her request for a matching sundress, even though the pattern for girls is free, too.
I loved working with this free pattern so much. May I just pause here and tell you how much I appreciate Oliver + S and Liesl Gibson's patterns? I've made the Lazy Days Skirts, the capes in Oliver + S: Little Things to Sew, those wonderful Easter dresses, and two of these doll Popover Sundresses. In the context of working with the patterns, I've learned so much. There is just such attention to detail. It seems that every project I've tried has taught me a skill I've carried into projects that aren't Liesl Gibson patterns. I've got to think that's the mark of a good designer, a good teacher, and a good writer. I'm so grateful.
In the reading department, I'm trying to read quickly through a substantial stack of gardening, small plot farming books:
Ooh, and I see The Paper Garden snuck into the picture, too. I saw that at Beth's during a needle & thREAD visit. Tucking away to little read a little of that gem, here and there;-)
So, what about you? What have you been up to this week? Reading, sewing, embroidering? Do share.
It's been ages since I did a Small Steps Together post. I beg your pardon! I decided this morning to begin with today's devotion and just roll with it a bit. I don't have a copy of the book--I've long sold all of mine--so I'm pulling the quote from the manuscript. It very well may be that this quote was edited into another day. If so, I'm going to just assume that God wanted me to think about this one today and go about my merry way.
Think: "And when night comes, and you look back over the day and see how fragmentary everything has been, and how much you planned that has gone undone, and all the reasons you have to be embarrassed and ashamed: just take everything exactly as it is, put it in God’s hands and leave it with Him." -- Edith Stein
Pray: Jesus, You fell three times while carrying the cross. Help me see my weaknesses as a call to lean on Your strength and grow ever closer toward You.
Act: Before you go to bed tonight, write down all of the things you did wrong or failed to accomplish in your day. Pray over your list, asking God to complete you where you fall short. Then crumple up the paper, throw it away, and get a good night's sleep before tackling a new day.
Whew. I've had a lot of nights like this one lately, a lot of fragmentary, embarrassed, and ashamed nights, many, many worried nights, a lot of dreams where all the bumps of the day crowd out peaceful sleep and I awake feeling defeated before I've begun. When I reflect on the plan as it was written in the last few days of August and compare it to where we are today, I am astonished. So much of the landscape has changed in such unexpected, sometimes painful ways!
I wonder, is this the particular cross of meticulous planners? Do we get nailed more often than those easygoing folks who haven't much of a plan from the beginning? Or, is it a big family thing? In a big family, as children get older, there are so many outside influences on a mother's life. While I can merrily plan away for my own largish brood, I can't really begin to predict how the friends and teachers and coaches and employers in their lives are going to act. Throw in unexpected medical issues. Multiply it out by the number of children in a large household. And there you have it: guaranteed nights of reflection upon fragmentary days.
But what about the embarrassed and ashamed part? Those are the pieces torn away from the one piece life. If all of life is either sacred or profane, the embarrassed and ashamed parts are where we have greeted the interruptions, the unexpected, the uninvited in a manner that is not sacred. They are the places where we've stumbled under the weight of the cross and instead of accepting the grace of the Savior, we've either tried to throw the cross from our shoulders or we've tried to carry it under our own strength.
My life is not a seamless garment. I've lived long enough to see that now. I cannot cut from the fabric of my life the patches that are rougher than the others, the colors that are just a little off. No matter how embarrased or ashamed of them I might be, they cannot be ripped from the fabric. But they can be stitched into His masterpiece. I can give them to Him and trust that over time, He will piece together a garment that takes those dark pieces and frames them just so, rendering the finished product beautiful beyond anything I could have imagined.
God intends it to be holy. All of it. What He wants at the end of a fragmented day is for me to see--clearly see--the many fragments and how they are of my own making. And then, He wants me to ask. He wants me to know that He can take the fragments, even the seeming dissonance and He can make a one piece life of my many scraps. It can all be for His good and to His glory. If only I hand Him the pieces.
But what does all this have to do with patience? Everything. At then end of a day that was all ragged fragments, a day where truly the beauty in the design is utterly incomprehensible, I am called to hand the pieces to him and just wait. Trust. And wait. He's got a plan.
~~~
How is He teaching you patience this month? Small Steps focuses on patience this month. Would you share your thoughts with us, let us find you and walk with you? I'd be so grateful and so honored to have you as a companion, to pray with you for patience. Please leave a comment or link to your blog post below and then send your readers back here to see what others have said.You're welcome to post the Small Steps Together banner button also.
I have long loved early childhood. From the time I was very little, I have invested much thought and prayer into the mother of young children I feel called to be. Much to the chagrin of pretty much everyone except my husband, I even majored in early childhood in college. (Just an aside: I had enough nursing and anatomy/physiology credits to also be certified to teach health and PE. God had a plan. I grew up to educate children who, when asked to name their school, inform the general public that they attend the Foss Academy for the Athletically Inclined. But I digress.)
I have held tightly to the promise that it's never too late to have a happy childhood. And since mine was not childish or carefree, I've set out very deliberately to create for my children what I think I might have missed and to enjoy it alongside them. Deep in my heart, my fondest wish was to be the very good mother of young children. You might say that I've dedicated my adult life to that task.
Not too long ago, I can't remember where, I read about a woman around my age who said that she was too busy with her grown kids and teenagers to mourn the fact that her babies were growing up and there would soon be no wee ones in her house. I'm not. I'm not too busy. There are still small children in my house and they slow me, still me. I still stay with them at night as they drift off to sleep. I still sit with them at the table as they eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner, ever so slowly. I bathe them and brush their hair and braid it up before bed. I sit and rock and hold and read. I still thank God for them with every breath, much like I did the day they were born. I have plenty of time in the course of my day to be still and know that these are precious moments that will not be a part of my days in the not too distant future.
In a way, I envy those women who blithely move along to the next stage of life and smile brightly and say, "There! That's finished. Wasn't it grand? Now what's next?" I'm not one of them. Perhaps I'm just not good at transitions. I sobbed at my high school graduation. I remember how reluctantly I traded my wedding gown for my "going away" clothes. I cried so hard when Michael left for college that I had to pull over because I couldn't see to drive. I held more tightly to each newborn than the one before. And this last one? I don't think I put her down at all for the first twelve weeks. My intimate relationships are deep and rooted and meaningful. When I live something, I feel it.
I know it's time.
I know because my environment cries out that it is so. My house is full to overflowing with people. Several of them are more than twice the size they were when we moved in here. Some have left and come back and brought with them more of their own stuff. We are bursting at the seams. It is time to acknowledge that we are in a new season of life and to allow my house to reflect that.
And so. I cocoon. Somehow I know that this is intense, deeply personal business and at the end I will be the same and yet, forever different. I spin a silken thread tightly around my home. My cell phone goes dead. I don't recharge it. I don't touch my laptop. I don't carry the house phone with me. I don't leave for several days. It is time to conquer all those recesses of my home that I neglected while I held babies. It is time to let go.
We need space. We no longer need a co-sleeper. Or the sheets to go with it. We don't need a swing. I begin in the basement.
We don't need three neatly labeled boxes of beautiful thick, pink, cotton clothes -- 0-3 months, 6-9 months, 9-18 months. I carefully save the christening gown, the sweet baptism booties, the first dress Karoline wore to match Katie and Mary Beth. The rest I fold into giveaway bags. Michael takes the baby "things" to the Salvation Army on Friday.The clothes remain until Saturday morning. The Children's Center truck is due to arrive at 8 AM. After I've finished with the clothes, I cannot stay here in this basement on Friday. I've done what I know will be the most difficult task. I also know I'm nearly suffocating. I need to go upstairs and get some air.
I begin in Mike's office. This isn't really my mess or my stuff or even the stuff of children who haven't been carefully supervised. It is just the overflow of two busy adults who pile and stuff a bit too much. He doesn't use this room. It's a lovely room in the middle of the house with a bright window. I put a new sewing machine on the desk. I rearrange shelves, discarding things he no longer needs. I spend an hour or so carefully dusting his youth trophies and 25 years of sports paraphernalia. I think about this post and I know that we can (and should) share this space. I move some baskets in. My yarn, my knitting and sewing books, a few carefully folded lengths of fabric, holding place for a stash to come.
I stitch a few things in that room. And I am happy there. I am no longer knitting in my womb. But I am still creating. And it makes me happy. My arms are ever more often empty, but my hands are increasingly free for other pursuits. Still, a small voice whispers, knitting and sewing are nothing like the co-creation you've done for the last 22 years. I hush the voice. I have no idea where this is going. He is the Creator. He has written a beautiful pattern for my life. All He asks is that I knit according to His plan. Trust the pattern.
On Saturday morning, that truck comes. I can't even watch as they load my dear boxes. My stomach clenches and my eyes fill with tears. Things. They are only things. The girls who wore those things are safe in my arms. Another mother will be blessed to hold a sweet pink cotton bundle close and nuzzle her cheeks. I descend to the basement.
Here. Here is where I must force myself to cocoon. Here is where ten years of "put this carefully in the craft room" will come back to haunt me. They have tossed at will every single time. It never recovered from the great flooring shuffle. I do pretty well with the rest of the house, but I dislike coming down to the basement and Mike rarely comes down here. So, here is where the disorder has collected. The "craft room" is a jumble of stored clothes, curriculum, craft supplies, and 25 years of family photos. It is a mess.
I am humbled by the mess. Quite literally driven to my knees. But I have spun myself into this small space and here I will stay until I can emerge beautifully.
I have banished all outside interruptions, but I have brought with me the Audible version of this book. Good thing, too, because I will benefit greatly from the message within and, frankly, I will need to hear the narrator say "You are a good mom" as often as she does.
I see the abandoned half-finished projects, the still shrinkwrapped books, the long lingering fabric and lace. Did I miss it? Did I miss the opportunity to do the meaningful things? To be the good mom I want to be? I am nearly crushed by the weight of the money I've spent on these things and the remanants of my poor stewardship.What was I doing when this mess was being made? To be sure some of the time was sadly wasted. It is easy to berate myself for time slipped through my fingers. Cocoons are really rather nasty things.
Determined, I clear out the clutter. I tell myself that life is not black and white. It's not all bad or all good. I fold fabric and recognize that what I have here is the beginning of some new projects. I gather acorn caps and felt and label them and tuck them away for the fall. I make a very large stack of books to sell secondhand. I sort and sweep and remember. I see picture after picture of smiling children. I see, in those color images, time well spent. Time well filled. Their mama always looks tired. I recognize in those pictures that my children were happy--are happy. And I also recognize that it's been a little while now since I felt that tired. It is true that much of my time in the last twenty years, I have been filling well. I have been holding and rocking and nursing and coloring and listening and reading and giving and giving...I have been cherishing childhood. And it is a true that in a household this size, it is darn near impossible for every corner of the house to remain clean and every lesson to be carried out according to plan ,while caring well for babies and toddlers. Messes happen.
The season just passed? The very long season? It was good and full and messy and cluttered. It was bursting-at-the-seams joyful in a way nothing ever will be again. It was also very hard work. Very, very hard work.There were utter failures and big mistakes. And there was a whole lot of good.
This new season? I don't know yet. It's not nearly as cluttered. I have stayed in this cocoon until every corner of my home, every nook and every cranny, has been cleared of the clutter of the last season. Every poor choice, every undisciplined mess has been repurposed. Every single one. I can see my way clear to do the meaningful things. And the blessing is that there are still plenty of children in this house to do them with me.
As I sweep the room for the last time before considering this a job well done, I see a picture that has slid under a bookshelf. It is Mike and me at our wedding rehearsal. I stare long and hard at that girl. But I stare longer at him. He is still every bit as happy as he was that night. Happier, really. Really happier. These days in this cocoon, I have been brutally honest with myself. I've held myself accountable for every transgression. I have humbled myself before God and I have confessed my sins. I look at his image and then back at mine and I realize something very important. Whatever my failings, I have consistently been a good wife. I wonder at the ease with which this recognition comes to me. I am certain that much of it is born of his frequent words of affirmation. I know it is so because he has told me it is so. But why is it so?
Grace.
Ours is a gracious God. It is only by His grace that I am the wife I am. And it is by His grace that I have this sense of peace about the most important relationship in my life. These children willl grow in the safe home he and I have created together. And then they will fly. Mike and I? We will be us. Always us.
I carefully put away the very last picture, turn out the light, and climb the stairs.
I've cleared out the clutter, made peace with the past. I've learned a very valuable lesson that I'm long going to be pondering in my heart. It's time to fly free.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Small Steps focuses on humility this month. Would you share your thoughts with us, let us find you and walk with you? I'd be so grateful and so honored to have you as a companion. Please leave a link to your blog post below and then send your readers back here to see what others have said.You're welcome to post the Small Steps Together banner button also.
As I've watched college students graduate recently, I've noticed a distressing trend. Campus ministries are becoming better, teaching orthodoxy without hesitation. Genuinely Catholic colleges are brimming over with zealous young people.
And yet.
There is a harshness, a sort of snobbery happening. I watch in not a little horror and listen to what they are saying, as they measure other people by their overt acts of piety, while they size people up and discard them like the stuff of yesterday's recycling bin because they don't fit the new collegiate image of perfect holiness.
And I can just imagine that several years hence, they will go together with their young children to a playdate. They will meet another young mom at the park. They will inquire as to how many children she has. And when they discover that she has two, four years apart, they will say something sanctimonious about how they are open to God's plan for having children and has she ever heard of NFP? She will sit and wonder briefly whether she should tell them about the two years of cancer between the first birth and the second, about how desperately she prayed for this second child, about what a miracle he is. That young mom, with the two children widely spaced, will have just learned how some people of faith can judge one another. Litmus tests. Checklists. As she raises a family in the real world, she will see that attitude given voice over and over and over again, while Jesus weeps for his Church, broken and divided.
What's the opposite of gentleness? Harshness. Hard lines. Brittle rules.
So there you are, you all grown up and graduated and out in the real world! You've come so far. You've left behind the safety of campus life, the happy campus ministry, the structure of academia. You've gone and gotten yourself a real job in the real world. With a real cubicle and a good excuse to shop at that very fine career wear store. Good for you!
You have a zeal for the faith that can be spotted a mile away. You wear it proudly splashed across your chest on more than a dozen t-shirts collected over the years of vibrant Catholic education. And you've come to embrace all those devotions of our faith as you've learned of them in your coming-of-age. You are on fire for your faith and you are eager to go out there into the real world and tell everyone just how Catholic you are.
May I whisper a word or two to you?
Gentleness. Humility.
Out there, in the real world, be mindful of gentleness. Don't beat people over the head with your religion. Really. You don't win souls for Christ that way. Actually, come to think of it, you don't win souls for Christ at all. The Holy Spirit does. You just listen--quietly--for the prompting of the Holy Spirit. You just pray--fervently--that you can be His instrument. And please don't think for one moment that you are better than the guy who goes to lunch at lunchtime instead of going to Mass. You're not. You are broken and messy and in need of a savior just like he is. You have been given the extraordinary gift of grace and the blessing of faith. Given it. God gave it to you.
You didn't earn it. You don't deserve it.
Humility. You know God in the Eucharist. You are blessed. He blesses you. Now, go bless someone else.
You are going to meet so many new people in the next few years. No matter how high-powered your job, no matter how life and death your decisions, you are still and always a woman of God. You are called to be as gentle as the Blessed Mother. Here's a hint towards beginning relationships and continuing relationships with gentleness: Be the girl who walks into a room--any room, every room-- and says, "There you are! How are you?" Don't be the girl who bursts onto the scene and shouts, "Here I am! Be like me!" It's not about you. It's never about you. You are a servant of God. Serve.
I know how dearly you hope to find a Godly man who will sweep you off your feet and be the husband to the wife and the mother you feel called to be. I know you want him to be as committed to the faith as you think you are. Don't judge every person you meet with a checklist in hand. Whether it's the girl you keep bumping into in the cafeteria, or the guy who seems to ride the same bus route on your commute, don't issue litmus tests. And for goodness sake, don't do this:
Every guy I know gets slack-jawed when they watch this video ( which made the rounds last year and caused more than one married Catholic mom I know to laugh and cry and shake her head in disbelief). At first we thought it was a joke. Then, we started reading comboxes. Not a joke, at least not for some people. Who could possibly live up to this? A second-hand relic? Honey, if you think you are marrying a saint, you are in for a rude awakening. Marriage is our path to sanctification. We don't marry into sainthood; we journey towards it together.
Here's the thing: you're going to miss a lot of good people if you make up checklists like that. And you might just miss God's plan for you, both in terms of men and real, good girlfriends. Some of the best husbands and fathers I know couldn't have checked off more than one or two things on that video when they were fresh out of college. They grew into good, holy men, often because of girls who loved them, believed in them, and shared the grace of Jesus with them. And I know people who can check off everything on the video list and, sadly, they aren't very good husbands and fathers. While lots of people can follow the rules and lots of people can do numerous acts of piety and devotion, they aren't necessarily people after God's own heart. Following the rules does not automatically equal holiness.
And isn't it interesting how in that whole long list, not one act of mercy is mentioned? You want a good husband and father? Find a merciful one. Here's a far better checklist:
To feed the hungry;
To give drink to the thirsty;
To clothe the naked;
To harbour the harbourless;
To visit the sick;
To ransom the captive;
To bury the dead.
To instruct the ignorant;
To counsel the doubtful;
To admonish sinners;
To bear wrongs patiently;
To forgive offences willingly;
To comfort the afflicted;
In the real world, those acts of mercy can take many, many forms. Perhaps you'll find him ladling soup in a homeless shelter. That would be an easy one to spot. Or maybe he's the young medical student who circles back after a long day of work to read stories to the pediatric patients. Maybe he's the guy who listens patiently as his grandfather goes on and on about a distant memory not quite still within his reach. Or maybe he's the one who's working fulltime and getting his degree because he dreams of a large family and wants the means with which to support them. Is he the guy next door? The one who "only" goes to Sunday Mass, but who also cheerfully picks up two young soccer players and drives them to practice three times a week because their mom is bedridden? And all the while, in the car, he is their friend. Their real friend. A strong shoulder to lean on in a time of crisis at home. Just a real good guy. Look for a real good guy. Someone who will journey with you.
Don't dismiss someone just because they aren't as outwardly pious as you are. Don't dismiss people at all. There's a big world of people out there. And some of those people are people from whom God intends you to learn. Even if, at first glance, it looks as if they aren't nearly as holy or smart or good as you are. Even if they aren't as holy or smart or pious as you are. They, too, were created in His image and each person--each and every one--is valuable. And worth your time. Don't discount someone because they aren't as up on theology as you are or because they don't "have religion."
And, to make it all trickier, zealous people have to guard carefully against Pharasaical sins and scrupulosity.
Whether we are growing closer to God or growing closer to people, it's not about checklists. It's about relationships.
Relationships beg coming alongside, walking together.
School is finished. Now begins the real work of cultivating a teachable spirit.
It's about listening.
It's about serving.
It's about nurturing.
It's about loving.
It's about a gentle spirit.
All the time.
It won't be easy. The gentleness thing. Pray for the grace to be gentle. We're all human, remember? As you go about your day in your busy real life world, you will brush up against broken, hurting, sinful real life human beings. They are just like you. And when you know that you are broken, too, saved by grace and gifted with faith, you will be genuinely gentle. You will look to people and assume that there is something to be learned from them, something good in them. You won't assume that because you are more pious, more obviously active in your faith, that you are closer to God. Instead, you will see Jesus in the poor, in the ordinary, even in the partier in the apartment next door.
"This was the method that Jesus used with the apostles. He put up with their ignorance and roughness and even their infidelity. He treated sinners with a kindness and affection that caused some to be shocked, others to be scandalized and still others to hope for God’s mercy. And so He bade us to be gentle and humble of heart." -- St John Bosco
And in the end, He won their souls.
Go gently into that real world. Grow gently into a woman of genuine faith.
And God go with you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Small Steps focuses on gentleness this month. Would you share your thoughts with us, let us find you and walk with you? I'd be so grateful and so honored to have you as a companion. Please leave a link to your blog post below and then send your readers back here to see what others have said.You're welcome to post the Small Steps Together banner button also.
I know we've moved to a new month and so I'm supposed to move to a new small step, but the last couple of weeks of May moved too quickly to suit me and far too quickly to blog all that was in my head, so I'm going to squeak just a few little thoughts on grace into the first June Small Steps Together. That makes sense, doesn't it? We all rely on His grace to have the strength and the calm and the self-composure to be gentle. So let's look at some grace notes and then talk about being gentle.
From May 24th:
With light from You, I now see that I could not accomplish by myself the things that I wanted to do most. I said to myself: ‘I shall do this, I shall finish that,’ and I did not do either the one or the other. The will was there but not the power, and if the power was there, my will was not; this because I had trusted in my own strength. Sustain me then, O Lord, for alone I can do nothing. However, when You are my stability, then it is true stability; but when I am my own stability, then it is weakness. -- St Augustine
My list lately is ridiculously long. All the things I want to do. I the things I have to do. All the obstacles in the path of both want-to and have-to. I love, love, love this quote. This really is the "all" of how to be a good wife and good mother of many. Only under God's strength. Only with God's grace. And it's a constant weighing and measuring. The list itself has to be in God's will. What would He have me do with the time He has given me in any given day? And what would He have me do with the nights? So often, I push the margins of day and night, blend the boundaries beyond recognition and so defeat myself and defeat His purpose for me. Jen has some good thoughts on that this week. The important thing for me to remember is that God gives me sufficient grace for each day, every day. As long as what I'm endeavoring to do is in His will. His yoke is easy and His burden is light (Matthew 11:30). So, if I'm straining under the burden of my daily life, it's time to stop and pray about it--pray as long and as hard as necessary before the Holy Spirit shows me where I'm out of step, what I've taken on that isn't what He intended for me. When I do that--when I live each day intentionally, giving it back to God as my gift of grace--the list is still long but it is entirely do-able.
One more:
May 26 (Feast of St. Philip Neri) Think: Cheerfulness strengthens the heart and makes us persevere in a good life. Therefore the servant of God ought always to be in good spirits." (If "God Be With Us: The Maxims of St. Philip Neri)
Pray: God, I am not always naturally in good spirits. Grant me the grace to be cheerful; remind me every moment that I live for you and no matter how dark the day appears, you can and do cheer me. With your grace, I can be in good spirits and I can persevere despite the trials that inevitably will come my way.
Act: Are you grumpy? Ask for grace. Are you tired? Ask for grace. Are you discouraged? Ask for grace. Are you angry? Ask for grace. Be open and yielding and genuinely happy to embrace His plan. Notice that your shoulders loosen and your brow smooths. Smile. Let cheerfulness lighten you. If necessary, fake it until it's real.
We've talked previously about the concept of faking it until it's real. And it was perhaps misunderstood by some. Sometimes, I don't feel virtuous. I don't feel cheerful or courageous or gentle. I don't feel like doing what I know God wants done. But I beg His grace and ask for His light to do virtuously anyway. And I can. By the grace of God. And then, after faking it, it does indeed become a part of me, a virtue practiced often enough that I feel it, breathe it, live it. Only by His grace.
That brings me to gentleness. Almost every woman I know struggles with gentleness. They find it doesn't come naturally. They find that fatigue, in particular, is the near occasion of sin when it comes to sinning against gentleness. They want to go gently into the good night. Mostly, though, they just want good nights.
Can I awaken, even after the restless nights, the sleepless nights, the nights filled with nursing and nebulizers and take to heart the counsel of St. Francis de Sales?
Put your soul every morning in a posture of humility, tranquility, and sweetness, and notice from time to time through the day if it has become entangled in affection for anything; and if it be not quiet, disengaged and tranquil, set it at rest. -- St. Francis De Sales quoted in Small Steps entry for today, June 2
Humility
Tranqulity
Sweetness
A gentle-quiet heart, at peace with the Lord because I've committed my to-do list to His Will and endeavored, through His Grace, to do only what He wants me to do, to be only the person He wants me to be. With every step, through every day, remaining detached from the affection of anything that turns me away from God and His goodness. God and His gentleness.
St. Francis de Sales expects that after the morning offering, there will be times during the day when the world rocks and peace is elusive. He reminds us, with gentleness, to stop and set our souls at rest. Where and how can we do that? Shall we throw our aprons over heads the way Susanna Wesley did? Shall we lock ourselves in the bathroom, turn on the water, and pour our hearts out to God? Will it do us good to put the baby in a front pack and the toddler in the stroller and go for a brisk, prayerful walk? Whatever it is that we need to bring tranquility and sweetness to our souls, that's what God wants for us in that moment. Because He does, indeed, want us to be gentle.
All the time.
~~~~~~~~
Would you share your thoughts with us, let us find you and walk with you? I'd be so grateful and so honored to have you as a companion. Please leave a link to your blog post below and then send your readers back here to see what others have said.You're welcome to post the Small Steps Together banner button also. Comments are open for links to blog posts. Comments are moderated, so it might take a bit for you to see yours appear.
Think: He who knows the comforts that come through the gift of grace and knows also how sharp and painful the absence of grace is will not dare think that any goodness comes from himself, but he will openly confess that of himself he is very poor and naked of all virtue.—Thomas a Kempis (Imitation of Christ)
Pray: Show me, Jesus, the work of your hands. Bring me to my knees and give me the words to ask for your grace. Shed light on the dark places of my soul and burn away the muck. Infuse me with your goodness and help me to grow in virtue.
Act: Page through photo albums with a child today. Share with him the moments of grace in your life. Be brave! Talk openly about the times you were afraid and how God brought good out of bad situations. Don't assume your children know the stories. Tell them!
Grace isn't really a virtue in the usual sense of the word. Grace is a gift-- a gift from God that enables the pursuit and acquisition of virtue. Without grace, we are helpless, hopeless. With grace, we are comforted, consoled, emboldened, empowered.
People ask me all the time how I do what I do. I'm always grateful when that's how it is phrased: how do you do what you do? It's a much easier question to answer than how do you do it all? I don't do it all, so to answer that particular question, I first have to explain that I don't even attempt to do it all. By that time, the questioner has lost interest because what she really wanted to know is how I do what I do. The answer there is Grace. By The Grace of God.
Nothing else. Nothing more. Certainly nothing less. When I look at the times in my life that were most peaceful, most content, even most productive, those are the times when I can see God's grace most at work. They weren't necessarily physically healthy times or tangibly productive times. They were the times when my soul was closest to God. When I knew, knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, that He was working and He was providing and He was completely in charge. The reality is that those times are times when I felt most out of control.
In the moment--those moments-- I didn't see the grace. Perhaps, immediately, there was very little. Instead, He allowed me to feel the sharp and painful absence of grace. Sometimes, He left me there for long, long months, even years. He allowed me the precious gift of knowing that I am small and weak and I cannot live this life under my own power. He allowed me to need Him and long for Him and beg His mercy and His grace. Then, when I could not even rise from my knees, I could pray. Could beg grace. Could see the gift of the Church in the sacraments, real and actual grace available for nourishment of my soul. To confess, to be annointed, to receive Him bodily, God in His mercy provides these for the mother, the woman, who cannot truly live as He intended without the Grace of God.
And He gives us something else. In the in-between times, the times away from the church building, the every day of living, He gives us His Word. Nurtured and nourished by the sacraments, we receive regular infusions of the grace of scripture. A slow, steady drip of grace day and night, constantly watering our souls so that they are not sharp and painful and brittle.So that they are not fragile and tentative. A day hemmed in God's word does not unravel. It doesn't. And so I've learned. The sharp and painful absences have taught me. They have taught me that there are tender non-negotiables.
To awaken early enough in the day to steep my soul in God's Word is to recognize He is the Master of my days, my moments. To read His love, to hear Him, to let those words become a part of me is to fully awaken to the day He intends. To memorize those words so that I carry them about with me throughout my daily round, so that they come readily to my mind and to my lips, to be unafraid to utter them aloud is to live a life of grace that is readily identified and genuinely appreciated by those I touch.
Grace.
I can see it. When I look back, it is obvious. The work of His hands. The unmistakable mark of His love on my life.
God, grant me the grace to see it--to seize it--in the now.
Would you share your thoughts with us, let us find you and walk with you? I'd be so grateful and so honored to have you as a companion. Please leave a link to your blog post below and then send your readers back here to see what others have said.You're welcome to post the Small Steps Together banner button also.
Do you know how many definitions there are for the word "Grace?"
–noun
1.
elegance or beauty of form, manner, motion, or action.
2.
a pleasing or attractive quality or endowment.
3.
favor or good will.
–verb (used with object)
14.
to lend or add grace to; adorn: Many fine paintings graced the rooms of the house.
15.
to favor or honor: to grace an occasion with one's presence.
—Idioms
16.
fall from grace,
a.
Theology . to relapse into sin or disfavor.
b.
to lose favor; be discredited: He fell from grace when the boss found out he had lied.
17.
have the grace to, to be so kind as to: Would you have the grace to help, please?
18.
in someone's good / bad graces, regarded with favor (or disfavor) by someone: It is a wonder that I have managed to stay in her good graces this long.
And we haven't yet touched the uniquely Catholic definitions. I could write about grace every day for the rest of the month and not run out of definitions to explore. But this evening, I sit in a coffee shop and ask God about grace and the only thing that runs through my head is "All's grace."
Why, as people of a Holy God who instructed us to only use good words, is it so easy to fall into the patterns of this world? Grumbling. Spewing negativity. Finding fault with each other. Making nasty comments (all in the name of differing in opinion, of course). Why? What's the point of it? Are we not set apart to do good works? Are we not called to let our light shine before men? And what about that salt and light thing?
It's not just Catholics. It's not just Evangelicals. It's not just the Eastern Orthodox. It's all of us.
All. Of. Us.
Without discrimination. I could link and link and link to examples of words cast into cyberspace without grace.
But now put them all away: anger, wrath, malice, slander, and foul talk from your mouth. [9] Do not lie to one another, seeing that you have put off the old nature with its practices [10] and have put on the new nature, which is being renewed in knowledge after the image of its creator. [11] Here there cannot be Greek and Jew, circumcised and uncircumcised, barbarian, Scyth'ian, slave, free man, but Christ is all, and in all. [12]
Put on then, as God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassion, kindness, lowliness, meekness, and patience,
[13] forbearing one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. [14] And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. [15] And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in the one body. And be thankful. [16] Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teach and admonish one another in all wisdom, and sing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs with thankfulness in your hearts to God. [17] And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.
~~~ [23] Whatever your task, work heartily, as serving the Lord and not men, [24] knowing that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward; you are serving the Lord Christ. [25] For the wrongdoer will be paid back for the wrong he has done, and there is no partiality.
No partiality. He calls us all to the same standard. When we serve Him as we're called, all's grace.
Pick a definition. Which one would you like? There is no definition of grace that includes ugly words, no definition that exhorts us to eat our own. Last year, I struggled with the dark side of the internet. It was real and close and personal. I sought solace. I made peace. I was granted the grace of clarity and I found it remarkably easy to forgive.
All grace.
This spring, I watch in horror as I see graceless words, barbed and pointed, wound another. And another. I watch in wonder, from a distance this time. A safe distance?
No.
There is no safe distance. We are the body of Christ and the body is abusing itself.
It is time to stop and think and ask ourselves before posting.
Is there Grace in what I say?
Does it bless?
Bless.
Look at every definition, above and then, look at what the Church asks.
We are called to charity, yes, but we are called to more. We are called to be filled with grace. Filled with Grace.
Actual Grace.
Temporary supernatural intervention by God to enlighten the mind or strengthen the will to perform supernatural actions that lead to heaven. Actual grace is therefore a transient divine assistance to enable man to obtain, retain, or grow in supernatural grace and the life of God.
Condition of a person who is free from mortal sin and pleasing to God. It is the state of being in God's friendship and the necessary condition of the soul at death in order to attain heaven.
My question is so simple: Can we be in a state of grace while spewing or reading muck on the internet?
All's grace.
Or it should be.
To live a life of grace, we must grant each other grace.
We need to use the internet as tool to get to heaven.
It's a matter of life and death.
Would you share your thoughts with us, let us find you and walk with you? I'd be so grateful and so honored to have you as a companion. Please leave a link to your blog post below and then send your readers back here to see what others have said.You're welcome to post the Small Steps Together banner button also.
I received an note not too long ago that was an exceptional glimpse into the thoughts of some of my readers. Just a few lines that accidentally ended up in my inbox. They weren't intended for me at all and, yet, there they were. They taught me so much. I consider that note a great blessing and I'm grateful for the insight.
Among other things, the woman who penned the note remarked that before an author published a book of small steps towards virtue she should be sure that she can do them or that she has done them already.
I promise you that I cannot do every step in my book on any given day. I can do all of them at one time or another. I can do most of them on the days for which they were written. But I will never hit them all just right. Not on this side of heaven.
And the book wasn't designed that way.
All the small steps in our book have been done by Danielle or by me at one time or another. None of the small steps in the book are done by both of us all the time. We falter. We stumble on this path towards heaven and sometimes we even fall. If I were to wait until I'd perfectly mastered all those virtues--all those steps--all the time, I'd never publish. And if I had to be absolutely certain when I ponder an idea here that I can perfectly master it--or even that I should--this screen would be mostly blank.
Instead, I think aloud about peaceful, happy, holy family life and I wonder with you how to step heavenward.
That takes courage. It takes courage when I know that there are people who will take my own admission of my brokenness and use it to tear me down further. It takes courage to tell you that I am a mess and to trust that you won't despise me for it. And it takes courage to keep writing even in the face of some people who do exactly that. It takes courage to send the words of my heart out into the world. I am not, by nature, courageous. I pray daily for courage.
We wrote Small Steps to encourage. That was our primary goal. We had seen the fierce competition and unfavorable comparisons among women and we genuinely desired to come alongside and walk together towards a common goal. A goal of peaceful, happy, holy women.
So, we looked towards the saints, those holy men and women who have gone before us. And we were grateful that they wrote, despite their doubts and struggles and imperfections. They shared their brokenness; they wondered aloud. They left us with a treasure trove of wisdom. The church assures us that they did not struggle in vain. And she encourages us to dip into the font of their wisdom. So we did.
We also composed prayers. There is no greater privilege than to pray with you. When I open my book to any given day, I know that you might be praying that prayer, too. And Jesus tells me that when two or more of us are gathered in His name, He is there. There with us. Stepping beside us. In our midst. (Matthew 18:20)
And yes, there are action items. Little things that we know will add up to great strides over the course of the year, little steps that we know from our our experience to be valuable. Sometimes, we hit them all just right. Sometimes, as on the day about which the email was written, we stumble and fall. I wrote the words that I eventually read on that day. And I lived them as well as I possibly could--because I believed that step to be a valuable one. And then, I told you that I failed to meet the ideal. I told you so that if you failed on that day too, you would find comfort in not being alone. I told you so that you could pray for me as I dusted off and began again. And I told you so that I could also tell you that I persevered. That the next day was better. That yesterday was awesome. I told you so that I could encourage you. That was the whole point.
We encourage when we invite another woman into our home for a cup of tea and word of friendship, even though there might be stacks of folded laundry on the dining room table, even though the only cookies we have to offer were bought from the grocery's day-old table yesterday. It takes courage to admit we don't have it all together, all the time. We ask her in and invite her to share her heart, letting her see the sometimes ragged edges of our own. We encourage when we confide that we, too, struggle and yet we also claim the ultimate victory that is ours in Christ. We admit that we are sinners in need of a savior. And she feels welcome. She is not made to feel judged or reproved by some unattainable icon, but loved by a fellow saint on a journey. She will come again; she will invite you into the corners of her home, knowing that you will see her heart and not her shortcomings. Together, we will take small, but meaningful, steps
Genuine encouragement grants grace. Grace is our topic for May. Genuine encouragement is gentle. Gentleness is our topic for June.
Small Steps focuses on courage this month. Would you share your thoughts with us, let us find you and walk with you? I'd be so grateful and so honored to have you as a companion. Please leave a link to your blog post below and then send your readers back here to see what others have said.You're welcome to post the Small Steps Together banner button also.
I think back to those times: a little girl undergoing one surgery after another to construct an ear that was never there; a young mother facing chemotherapy and uncertainty; a mother of many warned by doctors that she could die delivering the baby she carried. In each instance, people commended my courage. But those weren't instances of courage to me. They were just doing what had to be done.
Courage was what I'd beg of God when I just couldn't keep breathing on my own, when my breath caught and I needed God just to exhale. Courage was my prayer when I let my teenagers go out into that great big world. What I wanted was to keep them home, hold them close, protect them forever. As my big boys began to march forth into life, they walked around with pieces of my heart inside of them. Suddenly, I was vulnerable. I saw that they were going to be hurt and I was going to watch them suffer. There was no way around it. They would make mistakes and get hurt. They would learn about what's out there in a fallen world, and get hurt. They would meet many, many people and some of them would hurt them. Nothing was ever so simple as it was when they were babies in my arms. Then, I could gather them up and soothe their hurts, chase away their fears, make every little thing “all better” just by my presence. But as they grew, I found myself praying for courage. I began to understand that, for mothers, the heroic effort is in letting them go.
It's not so much that I wanted them to be little again. To want that would have been to wish away the beautiful people they had grown to be, to wish away years of loving and living together. No, instead, I wanted to be the mother I was when they were babies. I wanted the power to gather them on my lap and soothe them as I rocked. I wanted to shelter and protect and to be their whole world. I wanted to be able to ensure that their days were happy and healthy and holy. I wanted to cradle them in the protection of my arms. I wanted to love them with all my heart. And I wanted that to be enough. Instead, I must remember that for all their lives, my calling is to have the courage to love them, knowing that they will leave, and trusting that God will care for them more tenderly than I ever could.
Mothering older children takes courage, because just as sure as the sun will rise, so will there be trouble in the lives of our children. I am left to storm heaven on their behalf and to thank the Lord for the gift they are.I shore myself up for the years of mothering that lie ahead by reminding myself of the words of Blessed Mary MacKillop: Whatever troubles may be before you, accept them bravely, remembering Whom you are trying to follow. Do not be afraid. Love one another, bear with one another, and let charity guide you all your life. God will reward you as only He can.
Small Steps focuses on courage this month. Would you share your thoughts with us, let us find you and walk with you? I'd be so grateful and so honored to have you as a companion. Please leave a link to your blog post below and then send your readers back here to see what others have said.You're welcome to post the Small Steps Together banner button also.
Courage--noun: mental or moral strength to venture , persevere, and withstand danger, fear, or difficulty.
Encourage--transitive verb a: to inspire with courage, spirit, or hope : hearten <she was encouraged to continue by her early success> b: to attempt to persuade : urge <they encouraged him to go back to school>
April's Small Steps entries are devoted to Courage; actually; they are Danielle's and my attempts to encourage you (and us) to be courageous. In our family, encouraging is highly encouraged. One of my most quoted Bible verses is "Encourage on another and build each other up!" (1 Thessalonians 5:11) Actually, that's not entirely true. The verse is
[11] Therefore encourage one another and build one another up, just as you are doing (RSV)
but--ahem--the "just as you are doing" part doesn't really fit. Because, they are not doing it--not so much. The boys, especially, are given to jostling for postition, asserting their superiority, and tearing their siblings down in the process. It's very disconcerting and not a little disappointing for a mother to witness. I want nothing more than for them to be good to one another, to be each other's staunchest supporters and greatest advocates. I keep reminding myself that they are children and I keep reminding them of the verse.
Sometimes, they nail it. I'll see them sincerely lift one of our own. Most often, it's an older sibling who encourages a younger one. That's the easier, more natural inclination. It does a heart good to witness a big boy say just the right thing to a little one and turn a whole game around for the better. It's endearing to watch big sisters patiently stand by and offer just a little assistance when a little girl insists on dressing or feeding herself. But the truly golden moments, precious and rare, are the ones when the older children encourage each other.
It might be as simple as a look, a shared smile, and understanding pat on the back. Every once in awhile, it's a full-fledged pep talk. And those are the times when I can barely contain myself. I want to shout from the rofftops, "just as you are doing!' Do it again!" But I refrain, because they'd probably think that really weird.
What about God? When He watches us, brothers and sisters in Christ? Does He want to remind us to encourage one another? When we get it right does He wish He could say "Just as you are doing! Do it again!" Actually, He already said it. It's up to us to take it to heart.
It's up to us to pray for the grace and the sensitivity to be genuinely encouraging to one another.
Do we inspire with courage, spirit, or hope? I know I encourage my children; it comes naturally and I've been encouraging since the day they were born. It's compeltely counterintuitive and unnatural to me to be anything but encouraging. But what of the non-kid relationships? We are called to community and in that community, we are called to encourage.
Can I do that?
Can I be courageous and step out of my comfort zone in order to hearten someone else, particularly another woman? The encouraging words that flow so naturally when I look into the face of a child, will they come for my neighbor? Yes, by the grace of God.
And I pray for that grace.
Small Steps focuses on courage this month. Would you share your thoughts with us, let us find you and walk with you? I'd be so grateful and so honored to have you as a companion. Please leave a link to your blog post below and then send your readers back here to see what others have said.You're welcome to post the Small Steps Together banner button also.
I beg your pardon as I post another from the archives. We've spent three nights in the Emergency Room this week. Lots of time to knit. No time for blogging (or laundry or dusting or vacuuming). So, as I catch up on the household things, I do hope this piece is good food for thought.
A few weeks ago, I read a thread from a Catholic attachment parenting list. The thread expressed concerns with this post. Ironically, when Sally wrote her essay, she was addressing those who thought that we cannot parent effectively without spanking. The people who were objecting to my post were objecting to any discipline or training at all. Attachment parenting has never advocated a “no consequences” approach. It has promoted a deep attachment to the child and a gentle (but firm) discipline style. Gentle discipline does not mean lack of all discipline whatsoever.
In the post I read, a brief time alone as a means of correcting a child is likened to abandoning the child. I was asked, “when did God ever abandon us?" He didn't and He doesn't. But Jesus spent time alone in the Garden of Gethsamane. And Jesus himself called out to His Father, "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?" Of course He hadn't abandoned Him. But even Jesus, the human son who was God, felt abandoned. Sometimes, in real life, we can feel like we've been abandoned. Sometimes, in real life, God allows us to feel that in order to draw us closer. In order to attach more firmly to us.
“Attachment parenting” has come to have broader meanings than it used to have. A false dichotomy has been set up by some users of this parenting term.They say that they want to propagate “teaching through attachment” vs. “using rewards and consequences.” Life is full of rewards and consequences. There have been very real consequences for our actions since the Garden of Eden. Parents who are attached--truly tuned in and understanding of their children--will quickly recognize that children need to be taught how to handle the rewards and consequences of life with virtue. And that is our duty as Catholic parents. Nothing can be called "Catholic Attachment Parenting" if we don't intentionally set about train our children in virtue. Children are not born adults. They are born persons. Young, immature persons who desperately need the firm and loving guidance of their parents in order to make wise choices and to grow in wisdom and stature.
The Catholic AP list moms, "wonder if it is possible to merge [Elizabeth's] orderly home/life style with complete surrender to attachment parenting and abandonment of punishment." I am not completely surrendered to any parenting philosophy developed by man. I am completely surrendered to the will of God. Big difference. I will not dig in my heels over an "Attachment Parenting" checklist (that seems to change) to the detriment of my children's moral development. Furthermore, my goal here is not to be Attached Parent of the Year; it is to raise godly men and women who will bring glory to their Lord.My babies (and sometimes big kids;-) sleep in my bed. I'm nursing a toddler through a hyperemesis pregnancy in order to tandem nurse for the fifth time. I've never hired a babysitter. We don't spank. We take our kids with us everywhere, particularly when they are younger than three. I think we're pretty attached according to Attachment Parenting as I first understood it. I love Sally's term for her approach to training a child to meet the rewards and punishments of life: It's grace-based parenting; it's Heartfelt Discipline. Attachment parenting is simple when the children are very young. It's not easy, but is simple. You meet their wants and so you meet their needs. You pour out yourself body and soul for little ones who rely on you for their everything. It's hard physical labor, demanding as it is rewarding. This is your scrifice, your body, given up for them.
And then it gets more difficult. I've always thought that home education is the logical progression after attachment parenting babies and preschoolers. We still want to stay connected in order to effectively nurture our children and home education affords us the opportunity of huge quantities of time in which to do that. We need every minute of that time because it's been my experience that it comes as quite a shock to a child to learn that the world doesn't revolve around him. And he learns it when he's eighteen months, again when he's about five and in a very big way at fourteen. Every step of the way, the attached parent nurtures and disciples the child. She teaches him, first through her own example and then through careful training and discipline, that he is here on earth to know, love, and serve God. Only. That's it. In order to live up to that calling, the child is going to need a huge quantity of virtue. And he's not going to get it by demanding it;nor will he get it simply by breathing the air. Someone is going to have to truly put the child's needs first and do the hard work of training him in virtue.
Charlotte Mason wrote that education is an atmosphere, a discipline, and a life. So, when the moms at the Catholic AP List wonder if it's possible to have an orderly home and lovely lifestyle merge with "complete surrender to attachment parenting and abandonment of punishment," I tell them that an orderly home and lovely lifestyle support a family striving for holiness. I contend that an orderly home and a lovely atmosphere, together with attachment parenting and the expectation that a child will live up to the high moral standards of a family render punishment almost unnecessary. I also respect the fact that sometimes I will be called to punish in order to teach. An orderly home provides the child much-needed structure. There is enormous comfort in a rhythmic family life. An attached parent brings the child into the rhythm of the family--not the other way around. It takes self-discipline and sacrifice to establish and maintain rhythm. If there is an established and thoughtful and well-guarded family rhythm, the new child relaxes into that and is secure in its predictability. If chaos is the standard operating mode, the child quickly becomes a chaotic tyrant. Attachment parenting does not mean that one is ruled by an immature infant. It means that a mother intentionally sacrifices to meet the needs of her baby and to ensure that he always is safe and secure. But she is the big person. She is in charge. And he is very, very grateful for that.
The Catholic AP List moms say that they are trying to do away with consequences. I think that is an unhealthy idea. Why would we want to do away with consequences? If my husband decides not to go to work, there are consequences. If I don't clean the kitchen for several days, there are consequences. If we give in to our passions and commit mortal sins, there are eternal consequences. Why in the world would you want to raise a child in an artificial environment devoid of consequences? I'm not into complicated reward and punishment lists. I've never had one. We have no token economy, no complicated system of rewards and punishments. We just have real life and there are rewards and punishments aplenty built into authentic family life.
I don't believe that in a healthy family, chores are optional and nothing should be "required"of a child. One of my chores is driving to soccer practice. There are lots of days I don't feel like making that rush hour drive. I do it because it's important to my children and because deep-down I know there is value in it.It's difficult to remember that value when it's 4 o'clock in the afternoon and I'm exhausted and really just want to sleep. But I'm a grownup and someone taught me to do my duty even when I don't feel like it. And soccer carpooling is my duty. I think it's asking a lot to expect an eight-year-old to grasp that emptying the dishwasher promptly is important to the family and has inherent value. I explain that concept (several times, actually), but then I require it. And I draw the correlation. "If you can't help me in the kitchen, I will be here doing this chore when it's time to leave for soccer." Are these consequences? Am I threatening punishment? I don't know. I don't think about it too much. It's reality. There are only so many hours in the day. We all have to chip in. It's part of living in community.
I do not believe that attachment parenting excludes any discipline at all any more than I believe that unschooling excludes requiring a child to do certain academic things. That same eight-year-old doesn't know that if he refuses to do any math at all for several years, it's going to be much harder to "get it" and get enough of it when he figures out that he needs math in order to achieve his long-term goals. And then there's also that sticky little issue of compliance with state law. I'm all for following rabbit trails and keying into children's strengths. I'm all for gentle learning and lots of individual attention and guidance. I'm all for staying attached and knowing your child so well that you can discern the best of the best for him educationally. I also understand the times in life when we need to be in “survival mode,” only doing the bare essentials. And I believe in mercy and grace. I'm not for letting the child decide if he's going to work or not depending on whether it's entertaining or fun enough. Sometimes, life isn't fun; that's when we have an opportunity to practice cheerful obedience in the spirit of St. Therese.
So, no, I don't believe that an orderly home and lovely atmosphere are at all at odds with meeting the needs of our children in a healthy manner. Indeed, I believe that order and atmosphere support healthy attachment. I believe that much sacrifice is asked of a parent as she endeavors to raise a child in faith and grace. And one thing that a parent needs to remember as she continually sacrifices for the welfare of her child is that she must be mindful of her duty to make him strong so that he, in turn, will grow up to be a man who continually sacrifices for another in faith, with grace.
During Lent, the thoughts of the church turn to sacrifice: prayer, fasting, almsgiving. Small Steps focuses on sacrifice this month. Would you share your thoughts with us, let us find you and walk with you? I'd be so grateful and so honored to have you as a companion. Please leave a link to your blog post below and then send your readers back here to see what others have said.
I’ve gotten several e-mails recently asking parenting advice. I don’t know if I’ll ever be comfortable answering those requests. I’m learning as I go and I don’t presume to know enough to comment on someone else’s home situation with an authority at all, particularly when all I know is what I read in an e-mail.
All I can do is offer observations from experience gained in more than 20 years of parenting a large family. From my own experience, in my own house, my overriding parenting principle is to stay close to your children and to stay close to God. It’s simple advice, but not easy advice.
“No matter what problem or issue we face in parenting, our relationship with our children should be the highest priority. Children do not experience our intentions, no matter how heartfelt. They experience what we manifest in tone and behavior. We cannot assume that children will know what our priorities are: we live our priorities.
“Many a child for whom the parents feel unconditional love receives the message that this love is very conditional indeed … unconditional acceptance is the most difficult to convey exactly when it is most needed: when our children have disappointed us, violated our values or made themselves odious to us. Precisely at such times, we must indicate, in word or gesture, that the child is more important than what he does.”
There are two aspects to staying attached to children that I want to unpack from that quote. And then, I’ll look at staying close to God.
The first aspect of attachment is that we absolutely have to be honest with the way we spend our time. If our families are our first priority, then we need to devote more time and attention to them than anything else (except Our Lord — but I think we serve God when we serve our families). That means that every time we are presented with a choice about how to spend time — and there are countless times every single day — we choose according to priority. It’s not a stretch to say that most parents don’t do this. They choose work. They choose adult social relationships. They choose hobbies.
“But I need to work to support them!” goes up the cry. “But I need friends, too!” “But I need to pursue a creative outlet or a sport of my own.” Of course you do. So do I. It’s disordered, however, to ignore our children in order to support them. It’s ridiculous to spend more time developing and nurturing relationships with our neighbors, while our precious child gets the leftovers of our social attention. It’s silly to devote time to creative or athletic endeavors to the neglect of the children we co-created with God. It is up to each of us to discern if we truly manage our time according to our professed priorities.
The second aspect of attachment addressed in the quote is the idea that we love our children even when we don’t love what they do. This seems so simple and every parent I know would affirm that they do, indeed, love their children unconditionally. But many a child would tell you that they don’t know that.
I was in a fast food restaurant the other day. I spoke with six of my children at the table before leaving them to go order our food. I made my expectations for behavior clear. This was one of those times when all the stars lined up and every single one of them was good as gold. Sometimes, it happens. Actually, often it happens, and it has very little to do with the stars and everything to do with how hard we work as a family at behaving well so that we can all enjoy each other. The man in the booth next to them was not enjoying his children. And he told them so. He pointed to mine and asked his why they couldn’t be more like mine. Then, he looked at me and said, “You’re really lucky. You have good kids.”
I caught the eyes of his children and I wanted to cry. His implication was that he did not have good kids. I am certain that this man loved his kids, but if I had been his child at that moment, I would have asked myself if my dad valued me at all or if he valued some stranger’s children more than me.
One thing is certain: I wouldn’t be inclined to go out of my way to be particularly well-behaved for him. If he acted that way often enough, I’d just give up, resign myself to never “winning” his love and move on to other relationships. The best case scenario would find me flourishing in a relationship of well-expressed unconditional love away from my father. The worst case scenario would find me in a string of hurtful relationships. Chances are good I’d not be inclined to behave well.
The point is that everything we say and every behavior we manifest toward our children has an effect on them for good or ill. They feel and absorb our every action. We need to act with them in mind, every single time. Parenting with empathy is good parenting. Period.
We need to stay close to our children and we need to stay close to God. Attachment parenting requires sacrifice. God is the expert at sacrifice. There is no mentor better than Christ on the cross. We are good parents when we embrace our vocations with our whole beings; when we see that there is no greater privilege than to be someone’s parents; when we love wholeheartedly, unabashedly and with the self-donation of the Savior Himself.
As Lent begins, the thoughts of the church turn to sacrifice: prayer, fasting, almsgiving. Small Steps focuses on sacrifice this month. Would you share your thoughts with us, let us find you and walk with you? I'd be so grateful and so honored to have you as a companion. Please leave a link to your blog post below and then send your readers back here to see what others have said.
Right around Christmastime, I was really sick. In hindsight, I don't think I recognized how sick, even though I knew something was wrong. I gained fifteen pounds in fifteen days. My body temperature struggled to get above 96 degrees. I could barely keep my eyes open. I had sores all over the inside of my mouth. And I really felt as if my body was attacking itself.
I have long known that I have a gluten sensitivity. Back in my wheat grinding, four-loaves-a-day-baking days, I would get hives on my face if I reached up to push my hair away from eyes with flour-dusted hands. My mouth itched when I ate bread. After struggling with these symptoms, infertility, and depression for a few years, I got serious about cutting gluten out of my life. Four months later, I was pregnant. And then, I was really good about keeping gluten away. Sarah was conceived shortly after Karoline's first birthday. Then, on bedrest, gluten crept in. I was at the mercy of people bringing me food and I just didn't want to be picky. I was too shy to ask people to avoid wheat. So, I tried to eat around the wheat and just did the best I could. I never really cleaned up my act again.
During Advent, it's particularly difficult to stay away from wheat. Just a little bit here and there, a cookie (or even a piece of one), something fried at a party where there is nothing but appetizers with some form of gluten. I didn't do well, despite my best intentions. So there was the gluten allergy--an autoimmune response with intensity.
At the same time, my thyroid did its own autoimmune dance. Not entirely unexpected; pregnancy is hard on a thyroid (nine of those, even harder) and radiation is really hard on a thyroid (but good for curing lymphoma). My thyroid has done it's very best well past when they thought it would quit, but it's tuckered out.
I plodded through January with thyroid medication. Some relief, but really, very little. And then, someone connected dots for me. There is quite a connection between gluten intolerance and thyroid disease. The more I looked, the more I found. And there is also a connection between gluten intolerance and lymphoma. There's a lot medical science has not yet discovered, but what's already there is really enough for me. Those dots, they were connected.
No more gluten. Not even a little. Ever.
I talked to my pastor. I talked to the priest at the mission church. Both of them were very supportive. All I needed to do to get a very low gluten host was to ask before Mass. And to come up before the rest of the congregation to receive. What a gift!
But, for an introvert, that asking--every time drawing attention to my special need-- and that setting myself apart by going up ahead, that's hard. If you are naturally extroverted and not at all shy, you'll have to take my word for it. That's effort. It's sacrifice. It also requires that I always, always get to Mass early, so that I can ask. If we squeak in just before time or we are even a second late, it's too late. I have to go without Communion.
But it's a sacrifice necessary to receive our Lord!
It's gift. It's grace. Actual grace.
And this time, it's not so hard to stay away from even the little bits of gluten. I look at that puddle of carmelized deliciousness that has pooled in the center of the monkey bread and I know that it has slid down warm, yeasty rolls. So, it is forbidden. And instead of swiping my finger through just a little, just a taste, I remember that I won't even meet Jesus in the wheat. If I won't have even a wafer of wheat for God Himself, why would I have it for that sticky sugar? And with the thought of Him comes all the strength I need to abstain.
When I pull up at the fast food restaurant, all of us far from home at dinner time, and my stomach is growling and I'm met by a sign that says "All foods come in contact with other foods. Nothing is gluten free" I order a big lemonade and I am grateful, insanely grateful for something filling my stomach. Another time, another place, and it's water. No food at all; there is nothing for me. But somehow, the liquid is enough. God fills the space.
This Lent, I am encouraged to go beyond wheat, to embrace the spiritual discipline of fasting and to trust that God will bless my efforts to the benefit of my soul.
And Jesus rebuked him, and the devil went out of him, and the child was cured from that hour. Then came the disciples to Jesus secretly, and said: Why could not we cast him out? Jesus said to them: Because of your unbelief. For, amen I say to you, if you have faith as a grain of mustard seed, you shall say to this mountain: Remove from hence hither, and it shall remove: and nothing shall be impossible to you. But this kind is not cast out but by prayer and fasting.
Matthew 17:17-20
I remember that He comes to me in the wafer that tastes like brittle burned rice, but He comes. He offers the grace to abstain. So too, does He offer the grace to fast.
When my children ask what to give up for Lent, I always tell them to give up something that they cannot possibly give up on their own, something that will make them call upon God for help. Sometimes, God decides what that will be. When He does, He provides all the grace we need. We are just called to cooperate.
I can do this! By the grace of God.
As Lent begins, the thoughts of the church turn to sacrifice: prayer, fasting, almsgiving. Small Steps focuses and sacrifice this month. Would you share your thoughts with us, let us find you and walk with you? I'd be so grateful and so honored to have you as a companion. Please leave a link to your blog post below and then send your readers back here to see what others have said.
There, you will find an essay for each of the virtues explored in Small Steps and directed study for you to use alone or in a group. But wait! There's more! You will also find special devotions for every day of Lent. Instead of the Think, Pray, Act format of Small Steps, we wrote short daily ideas for fasting, praying, and offering sacrifices. If you think this might be just the thing for you this Lent, and you order before Friday, I'll sign your copy and mail it Priority Mail, Friday afternoon, in order for you to get it by Ash Wednesday.
{I'm sorry, no international orders this time. And only while supplies last.}
UPDATE: Oh my goodness! We're all sold out of Companion Journals.You can still order here.
In these days before Lent, we start to feel a little restless. Particularly when Lent is so late, we are ready to dig in and start to do the hard spiritual work. I've heard from several mothers who tell me that they are really ready this year, all set to go because Lent is late enough to give them a head start.
At Mass on Sunday, I was hoping to hear a homily about preparing to sacrifice. Instead, I heard a homily about what is paid for by the Bishop's Lenten Appeal. And the priest, bless his heart, warned that next week's homily will also be about the appeal for money. I get it. the Church needs money to do what it does. And the pastors are asked to ask for money. But I was bummed. This is the year of Matthew; most of the gospel readings this year are taken from Matthew. I love Matthew! I love the gospel of Matthew so much that my second son is named Matthew Christian. And Sunday's reading is probably my favorite scripture passage of all. It is definitely the first scripture I memorized. As a little girl, looking for some kind of instruction book for life, I read it under the covers at night, with the light from the hallway. I read Matthew from the Children's Living Bible, because that's what I had. And I believed.
Here, I've quoted from the New American Bible, as it was read in church on Sunday.
"No one can serve two masters. He will either hate one and love the other, or be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and mammon.
"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat (or drink), or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing?
Look at the birds in the sky; they do not sow or reap, they gather nothing into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are not you more important than they?
If God so clothes the grass of the field, which grows today and is thrown into the oven tomorrow, will he not much more provide for you, O you of little faith?
Do not worry about tomorrow; tomorrow will take care of itself. Sufficient for a day is its own evil.
So, what does any of this have to do with sacrifice? With Lent? More and more as I look toward Lent and ask God what He would have me do or not do, the answer is clear. What do you want me to give up, God?
Just give up.
Give up me. All of me. Give up worry. And all my illusions of control. Do I really want to be in control anyway? Wouldn't it be better for all of us if God were in control? What is worry anyway? Can I hold worry and trust in the same soul? If my soul is filled with worry, if I am anxious about the things of this world, can it be filled with Him? If I am worried, am I really able to seek God's kingdom and His righteousness?
When I was in college, I had friends who deliberately studied in the libraries of the pre-professional schools most likely to turn out the highest paying graduates. They weren't in those schools, but they wanted to marry someone who was. I remember thinking they were joking when they talked about marrying money. I remember being at a loss for words when someone dear told me that you can marry for love or you can marry for money, but she never saw it happen that you got both. Good grief! How do you do that? Marry for money? Marriage is hard enough work when you're madly in love! How can you possibly make it work if you didn't even marry in love to begin?
I didn't much care about money. These verses were etched deep in my heart. And besides, I was totally, head over heels in love. So, it worked for me, to blithely move through life singing "Consider the lilies of the field."
We did just fine, living on love. We did better than fine.
Over the years, things have crept in. We've had lots of opportunities and plenty of ... plenty. We know what it is to live with abundance. Somewhere along the way, amidst the plenty, I learned to worry. I worry about eating and drinking and yes, even clothes. Can worry add to lifespan? No, but oh, by the way, I worry about lifespan, too. And tied tightly to my tendency to worry is my attempt to control. Kids will do that to you. You want the best for them, to make their lives just so, and before you know it, you start playing God.
When I was a child, I believed that a good God was going to take care of me, that it would all be just fine, even good. Now, I'm a mother, can I believe that God is going to take care of my children? That He can do even more for them--for their good-- than I can imagine? Can I stop worrying about it all? Start trusting wholeheartedly?
Can I give up?
Let go?
Sacrifice my illusion of control for His promise of more?
It's time to try.
Have you begun to think about sacrifice as the calendar page turned to March? How has Small Steps blessed, challenged you, encouraged you on your journey? Would you share your thoughts with us, let us find you and walk with you? I'd be so grateful and so honored to have you as a companion.
"The way to love anything is to realize that it may be lost." –GK Chesterton
It is, without a doubt, the greatest lesson of my life--that every day is a gift and I'm created to see the sacred offering in even the ordinary days. He offers us each and every moment to fill as we will. And when we hold those moments as the precious, priceless gifts they are and fill them intentionally with the things of God, we truly live our lives.
It's really very simple.
So why do I mess it up so often? Why do I miss God in the moment and trash the gift? Why do I waste time? Why do I hurt the people I love? Why do I take an errant comment and make it an epic argument? Why do I act like a spoiled brat surrounded by way too much after a sugar-laden, way-too-many-people birthday party?
Because I forget that I am the daughter of a humble, heroic, awesome God.
It's so simple.
Why do I forget?
"True simplicity is like that of children, who think, speak, and act candidly and without craftiness. They believe whatever is told them; they have no care or thought for themselves, especially when with their parents; they cling to them, without going to seek their own satisfactions and consolations, which they take in good faith and enjoy with simplicity, without any curiosity about their causes and effects."--St. Francis de Sales
I want to walk in the light of God, to carry myself through my days in such a way that it is umistakable that I am His and He directs my paths. I want to be the child who believes what He tells me and then acts on that belief as naturally as I breathe the air. I want to remember that He is the good parent I so desperately need.
I want to go about my daily round serving the people He has entrusted to me, recognizing the places He wants me to go. I want this with all my heart--just to live the life He intends me to live.
I want to cling to Him. Can I cling to Him?
Can I be selfless, caring not at all for my own satisfactions or consolations. Can I turn away from the affirmation of other people and seek only to know that I walk confidently in His will?
Will my life ever be that simple? Will it ever be the gift He intended?
Yes.
Yes!
I think it will.
But only if I can do that one thing. Only if I can fill myself with Him. Only if I can be the child who surrenders to Him completely and entrusts Him to care for me tenderly.The thing is--the simple, important thing is--I can't walk confidently with God throughout the day if I am not intimately acquainted with God and I can't be intimately acquainted with God without having His Word be the firm and gentle hand of a loving Father to which I cling.
It's simple, really. When I hear Him well, when I hear Him always, I live the gift.
Did you take small steps towards simplicity this week? How has Small Steps blessed, challenged you, encouraged you on your journey? Would you share your thoughts with us, let us find you and walk with you? I'd be so grateful and so honored to have you as a companion.
A few of years ago, I found some wooden letters at a craft store in May and painted them blue. I spelled "Full of Grace" and set them up on a table with some Marian items. I loved the way it look and the mood it brought into the room. In December, I borrowed Cheryl's idea and propped the word "Prepare" on the mantel. Then, when Lent rolled around, I switched out some of the letters and I spelled "Repent." It was only natural that year when we went to "hide our Alleluia" that the "Alleluia" be letters for the mantel during the Easter season. One thing led to another and, with Danielle Bean, I brainstormed a virtue for every month of the year--and those were the virtues we used when we wrote a book, focusing on one virtue a month. In order to keep myself focused and to include my family in the endeavor, I set about collecting sets of letters for each month's virtue and then propped those letters on the mantel remind us all to strive for virtue. This month is all about simplicity.
I've written before about how "not simple" my life is. I think there is a common notion that simplicity strips things bare--that it requires us all to live lives devoid of the richness and textured complexity our Lord offers us. I don't see it that way. I see simplicity being the clearest expression of faith. I think that simplicity and authenticity are intertwined. When we are being the person we were created to be--when we are authentic--we relate to God and to one another with simple charity.That's simplicity.
When we embrace simplicity, we are content. We know that sometimes we might have the resources to cook an elaborate meal and sometimes, we cook with few ingredients. Both can represent simplicity of heart.It's not the complexity of the meal that matters; it's the disposition of the cook while she prepares the meal. We can practice the virtue of simplicity in times of fasting and of feasting. There will be seasons in our lives when lessons are short and simple and we might even just need to follow the directions of another. And there may be seasons when lessons are a grand adventure, carefully planned and executed over time. What matters is that we do whatever He tells us. It's about seeking and doing God's will, without excessive intellectual wrangling, dissertations and discussions.Don't think it to death. St. Paul writes, "I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.I can do everything through him who gives me strength."
It's not complicated. It's simple.
However, often, we think things to death; we complicate ourselves.We twist in the wind and reinvent ourselves again and again, complicating our spiritual lives and muddling our relationships.Simplicity isn't a decorating style, a cooking style, a clothing style. When we seek to cultivate the virtue of simplicity, we seek simplicity of heart. And simplicity of faith. It's not restless searching and seeking. It's resting in Him and reflecting His pure [and simple] love. It doesn't matter much what I wear or how I cook or what my home management style is if I am not close to God.
When a simple soul is to act, it considers only what it is suitable to do or say and then immediately begins the action, without losing time in thinking what others will do or say about it. And after doing what seemed right, it dismisses the subject; or if, perhaps any thought of what others may say or do should arise, it instantly cuts short such reflections, for it has no other aim than to please God, and not creatures, except as the love of God requires it. Therefore, it cannot bear to be turned aside from its purpose of keeping close to God, and winning more and more of His love for itself.~St. Francis de Sales
Did you take small steps towards simplicity this week? How has Small Steps blessed, challenged you, encouraged you on your journey? Would you share your thoughts with us, let us find you and walk with you? I'd be so grateful and so honored to have you as a companion.
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