this...

...is what I needed to read today.

Lent is not a pass/fail endeavor – it’s not a test, but rather a mystical means of healing and enlightenment I’d be very, very foolish not to take advantage of. The work of fasting won’t make God love me more - I’m very thankful to already, no matter what I do or don’t do, be loved by Him unconditionally. On my prayerful days, my forgetful days, my relapse days, my exhausted days, He is forgiving and full of grace. It will however affect the quality and fruitfulness of my day-to-day life here on earth. Waking up to a soul that’s been tended to feels tranquil and meaningful. I’m more generous, hospitable, courageous, patient, when I’m a good and faithful steward of my spiritual blessings.

                                                                                            --Molly Sabourin

(read the rest of the post here or listen to the podcast here)

One Body of Many Members

If any of you are fortunate enough to remember Slim Goodbody, you will remember that he wore a skin tight suit that showed all the bones and organs of the body, while he pranced around and taught kids (and maybe adults) valuable lessons on how to stay fit and healthy. The memory brings an awkward smile to my face. Wasn't that suit a little inappropriate to wear around little kids? I could be wrong. Anyway, the reason I bring him up in this post is that people like, and have liked for as long as I've been sucking wind, to be given advice on how to feel great and live longer. We want slim, good bodies (budum ching). I'm here to reflect on what it means to have a healthy Church body in this post. I don't know if people are as hungry for this information as they are for that of Slim's ilk, but "ni modo" as they say in Spanish.

It struck me today during church that there is something so fitting to be assembled with people who hold the same beliefs as me saying, in effect, in unison "isn't our God beautiful?" Say what you want about group think or brainwashing, to corporately praise something, especially the thing that you believe is the most deserving of praise is fulfilling, satisfying. It does a body good, also.

After our service this morning, in preparation for Lent, we had a forgiveness ceremony. During this service every person in the church says to every other person, "please forgive me if I've offended you," while bowing to the other person, who then says the same thing back. Both exchange a kiss on both cheeks, then one more for good measure (we are Trinitarian, after all) while saying, "I forgive you (in the name of Christ)." Awkward as this was, it made me think of learning how to dance with my wife. As we went around the circle I found myself moved by the love of each member in our small Parrish. Jesus Christ was truly, really there. I heard a Catholic speaker say once that, next to the Eucharist, your neighbor is the holiest thing presented to your senses. I felt that way today.

I have more to say on the topic of membership, but I'll wrap up for now with a small excerpt from C.S. Lewis' lecture of the same title:

No Christian and, indeed, no historian could accept the epigram which defines religion as "what a man does with his solitude." It was one of the Wesleys, I think, who said the New Testament knows nothing of solitary religion. We are forbidden to neglect the assembling of ourselves together. Christianity is already institutional in the earliest of its documents. The Church is the Bride of Christ. We are members of one another.

Forgiveness. . .

Author's note: This is the beginning of a series of blogs I started and never finished. This one was begun in January of this year. I just finished it today. I've been so inconsistent with blogging that my wife has started to give me assignments. I'm proud to say that I initiated this series. It will get done. . .probably.


Every morning right around 7:15 my eldest daughter cracks open her door, softly pads her feet down the hall to our room, creaks open our door and, with hall lights streaming in from her face says, "Daddy, I'm hungry. Let's go eat supper or lunch." Today was different. She came into our room, crawled into bed with us, and said, "Daddy, will you forgive me for all the ways I've offended you?"

We've taught her to do this every Sunday before church, but for her to do it, especially on the morning after a night when she had been particularly naughty and resistant to bed time was rewarding.

I don't believe that God racks us with guilt over and over until we finally say sorry. It feels that way sometimes, but the truth is, that he is more concerned with our wholeness, our healing than anything else. When I slow down and start to feel the manifold ways in which my wandering, my selfishness, my pride, my self-pity, my envy, etc. has wounded me, when I start to feel how dead I am without Christ, then I can realize through repentance what life is, what it is to truly live.

I'm not there yet. I still like to be right. I like to throw tantrums, I like to get angry and stay that way, 'cause "damn it, I deserve to be angry once in a while. It's my right."

"Wound our souls with your love," we say as we pray at the sixth hour, the hour that Christ was nailed to the cross. But I wonder if I really want this. If my heart were truly opened completely to the love of Christ, what great pain I would feel every moment of the day for having betrayed, ignored or just plain forgotten this love! Guilt doesn't even begin to explain it. It would be more like stubbing your own toe, or burning yourself on the stove, or slamming your own hand in a door over and over and over. If I have begun to become a "little Christ", then He is in me, His life is in me, He dwells in me.

"Heal my soul for I have sinned against you," it says in the Psalms. The love of the Holy Trinity, powerful, dynamic, unquenchable draws me back to myself where Christ dwells, where open arms await the repentant heart.

I forgave my daughter for all the ways that she's offended me. I must forgive everyone everything, all the time. God, help me. And forgive me for being impatient with my daughter this morning, for not listening to my wife on the phone as she reached out to me after a hard day, for forgetting to pray, to think of You. Guide me into repentance, into confession, that I may be opened, sensitized to your presence where there "is fullness of joy."

Don't Worry

It was just a simple cup of coffee.  A latte, to be exact.  But this simple beverage reminded me that God is faithful.

I left my house this morning with a lot on my mind.  I have a final paper due on Friday morning.  My daughters were sick this week and still don't seem to be totally over whatever it was they had.  This last weekend was wonderful, full and left me longing for simpler times.  Times when my husband and I could go out whenever we wanted and not have to worry about being home by midnight or how much money we were spending.   My heart was heavy with many things as I walked out the door...but the many things could be boiled down to one specific burden: worry. 

Life is hard right now.  Money is tight, my husband's health isn't the best, my daughters are wonderful yet challenging.  Life is also good.  I have a loving husband who is continually patient with me, daughters who are joyful and sweet, and wonderful friends.  And yet...my heart is full of worry. 

Worry that we don't have enough money to pay our bills (in reality, we don't).  Worry that I will do something to land my daughters in therapy when they are older (I probably will).  Worry that my husband will grow tired of being patient with me.  Worry that we won't make it through.  Worry that even our basic needs for food, clothing and shelter won't be met.  Worry that I will have to do this, life, all alone.  Worry, worry, worry, worry.

I walked out my front door and went to our station wagon.  Our new-to-us station wagon.  One we could not afford on our own.  One that was provided for us.  One that was an answer to prayer.  I was driving a physical reminder of God's faithfulness...and yet my heart was full of worry.

I arrived at the bookstore and set down my bag, filled with my laptop and school books.  As I walked away I hoped that my bag would be there when I returned.  I began to order an iced latte and reached for my wallet.  The kind barista told me how much I owed.  Then as I looked in my wallet I realized I did not have my debit card.  In my haste I had forgotten my card at home.  I did not have enough cash so I told the barista to forget it, that I left my card at home.  She looked sympathetic and I apologized for being so scatterbrained.

I returned to my table and began to take out my laptop and books.  I worried about how long it would take me to write this paper.  I worried about my girls at home and hoped they were doing alright.  I worried if I would have the energy I would need to last the day.

As I began to type my paper I noticed the barista walking towards me with a drink.  She smiled and set the drink down on the table beside me.  "I just made it for you anyway...it's such a bummer when you leave your card somewhere."  I was speechless and for some reason I wanted to cry.  "Thank you...that is really sweet" I managed to reply.  She walked away and continued to work while I continued to type my paper.  I'm not sure if she did or will ever know the effect this simple drink had on me.

Suddenly, I felt reassured that God is faithful, no matter the circumstance.  Maybe it's silly that I felt that way after someone gave me a free latte.  But I did.  This simple act of kindness helped melt away my worries and made me feel like I would make it through.

I would like to say that I walked away from this experience ready to let go of all my worry and trust that God will provide for my every need.  I didn't.  I began to worry about as soon as I walked out to my car.  But that's what prayer is for, right?

Orthodox Prayer In Time of Need

Almighty God, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, come to my help and deliver me from this difficulty that besets me. I believe Lord, that all trials of life are under Your care and that all things work for the good of those who love You. Take away from me fear, anxiety and distress. Help me to face and endure my difficulty with faith, courage and wisdom. Grant that this trial may bring me closer to You for You are my rock and refuge, my comfort and hope, my delight and joy. I trust in Your love and compassion. Blessed is Your name, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, now and forever. Amen.

Charitable Consumerism

You should watch this video:

and tell me what you think.  Does this kind of charity make us lazy?  Is it a little like putting a bandage on a wound that clearly needs stitches?   Does real change happen by helping out a little?


p.s. My lovely sister sent me this video...so thought provoking!

this moment

Inspired by Soulemama:

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. 

Sick and Tired (Pt. 1)

So, I haven't written in quite some time, at least not for the blog. I've been in extreme fatigue and survival mode for a while. I may have mentioned my illness in recent posts. It's called adrenal fatigue. I hate talking and thinking about it so much, but right now I just am anxious about getting better. I've felt this way for 9 months or so. I hate it when people complain about being sick, so that's probably why I haven't posted in a while. This sickness weighs heavily on my mind and how to get better even more so.

I've seen my doctor about it on several occasions and been to an endocrinologist. Neither one has offered me an explanation for the tiredness. The original reason I went in was due to heart palpitations (tachycardia), but now that I've figured out what is triggering those, I'm dealing with an extremely low energy supply, and more specifically, low morning cortisol levels.

I say all this as a sort of excuse for my absence. I've been resting, or, more appropriately, recuperating. My body is renewing itself by the grace of God, but very slowly. This is my introduction to the series I will be doing on being sick and how I'm dealing with it (and not dealing with it), how I'm getting better (and not getting better). I intend to go deep on this one. I am usually a very high energy person, so this has been hard. Sitting and writing about this is helping me to process it all. Anyway, consider this part one of Sick and Tired.

Anticipate

"Mommy, is it Pascha yet?  Is that bird ALIVE?!"

Z has been asking this question daily.  Multiple times a day.  Ever since Great Lent began, she has been anticipating, with great joy, the day that we celebrate the Resurrection.  We haven't had to do too much explaining about why exactly Christ's Resurrection is so important, so vital to our faith.  She gets it.

Awhile back, before Lent, we found a dead bird in our back porch.  She was concerned about the bird and very sad when we shared that the bird was in fact dead, and not sleeping.  We took this opportunity to explain that when Jesus rose from the dead, he defeated death.   And when He returns, He will redeem ALL of creation.  This didn't seem to make much of an effect on her sadness, but we didn't push it.  To truly love and understand life, we must understand the reality of death. 

Then Lent began.  And she began talking more and more about Jesus rising from death.  She walked around the house singing softly, "Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death, and upon those in the tombs bestowing life!"  She would tell people about Pascha and how excited she was to celebrate.  She would unabashedly proclaim"Did you know, all things are alive in Christ?!"  during snack time when we weren't even discussing the subject.

Like I said, we haven't pounded this into her.  She has soaked it in during Liturgy.  She has seen the hope in the scripture readings and prayers.  She has grasped the reality of the Resurrection.  The truth of the Resurrection is real and tangible, right now.  So whenever she talks about Pascha, she asks about the bird.  She believes, with her whole heart, that Christ defeated death, once and for all.  

Her faith and fervor are inspiring.  This is one of the many moments in parenting in which I realize our roles have been reversed.    She is the teacher, I am the student and I have so much to learn. 

To be beautiful

She watches me as I straighten my hair with the straightening iron.  The she asks, "What is that?  What does it do?"  I tell her that it helps my hair look nice.  Then she asks, "Can you straighten my hair too?"  "No," I reply, "you're hair is beautiful, you don't need it".  "But I want it...just straight my hair please..."  To appease her curiosity I run the hot iron through two chunks of hair.  She beams and asks how her hair looks.  I tell her, "It's beautiful, it was beautiful without the straightener".  She insists it looks better now.  She watches as I continue my morning routine routine for going outside of the house.  Hair, makeup, brushing teeth.  I grab my eyelash curler and squeeze my eyelashes in hopes that it will make me look a little more presentable.  She asks what I'm using and I explain "It's an eyelash curler...it helps mommy look more....it helps me look more awake".  I wanted to say, "It helps me look more beautiful" but I immediately stopped myself.  While that is how I feel, I don't want my 3 1/2 year old to equate beauty with an eyelash curler. 

I consider myself pretty low maintenance.  I don't shower everyday.  For makeup my minimum is concealer and powder, my maximum is eyeshadow and mascara.  Maybe, just maybe, a little lipstick on date night.  Some days I'll do my hair, most days I won't.  Even though I don't feel the need to be all dolled up everyday, I still feel the pressure to look a certain way.  We all know what that way is...flawless skin, tiny waist, tight abs, sparkling white teeth, long & lean legs, etc.  In short, everything I'm not.  My Guatemalan genes decided long ago how tall (or not tall) I would be.  They decided I would never look like a runway model.  I know that.  So why am I frustrated when I look in the mirror?

The pressure to look a certain way is strong in our society.  I don't own a television, yet I feel it.  I see the airbrushed perfection on magazine covers while I'm grocery shopping and cringe at my meager appearance in comparison.  I know that the cover is airbrushed.  That doesn't help.  I can rationalize all I want....I am still unsatisfied with my appearance more often than I am content.

I'm trying to figure out that balance.  Where I'm not so focused on my appearance that it's distracting, but I still care enough to look nice.  How much is too much?   How little is too little?   How will the way I approach physical beauty and appearance effect the way my daughters feel about themselves?

I want to save them from the obsessive focus on your body's flaws with which I was plagued in middle/high school.  I know that this means I must be extremely mindful of how I look at myself in the mirror when they are present, and even when they are not.  They must see in me that beauty does not come in a mineral foundation or a new dress.  While those things can help boost your confidence, they must place their worth in something more permanent, more eternal.  

That is a tall order to fill, and I'm not sure that I'm up for the job.  I  am worried that my example will not be strong enough to outweigh the assaults the media will lob at my daughters.  I know that a campaign like Dove's Campaign for Real Beauty is taking steps in the right direction.  But, they are still trying to sell you something.  I don't want my girls to buy into the thought that they must purchase items in order to be beautiful. 

Ultimately, we all know that outer beauty fades.  I want my girls to be beautiful, I want to be beautiful, when physical appearance wastes away.  My friend posted this video on her blog awhile back.  It conveys what I want to teach my girls, what I want to feel myself.  Watch it. 

p.s. there is one f-word in this video....you have been forewarned.

...makes me smile...

On Mondays I'm going to be posting about things that make me smile.  They could be moments from my week or books or things I see on other blogs.  Hopefully they will make you smile too :)

*these wooden sorting bowls from The Enchanted Cupboard & all the little things that go with them

*this book which is a novelization of an old favorite

*hints of spring all around

*the fact that this was attempted

*these lovely paper covered books from Paislee Press (via Twig & Thistle)

*this series which we read or listen to here practically everyday

*receiving flowers from my love

*early morning snuggles with my Lu after a long stretch of sleep

*yummy treats in jars 

*this woodsy party (which I'm inclined to steal for the girls' party in the fall!)

...what next?

(Digital Globe)

We keep asking why, but we don't need to know why something happened; we can't use that knowledge to go back in time and stop it.  And the terrifying truth is that we can't gather enough clues to know how to prevent it happening the next time...The only useful question in such a time is not "Why?" but "What next?"  What should I do next?  What should be my response to this ugly event?  How can I bring the best out of it?  How can God bring Resurrection out of it?

              ~from At the Corner of East and Now 

                       by Frederica Mathewes-Green


Ways to Give:
International Orthodox Christian Charities
World Vision 
American Red Cross
Global Giving

Lord Have Mercy

 

My heart goes out to all those affected by the earthquake in Japan.  My prayers are with you.

Hear my prayer, O Lord, for thou art merciful and compassionate, and lovest mankind, and to thee are due all glory, honor, and worship: to the Father and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit: now and ever, and unto ages of ages. Amen.

And Ain't I a Woman?

Last night I took part in a Black History celebration for my job.  I work for a non-profit organization called City Impact with their teen Leadership Academy.  The celebration was wonderful and I found myself  incredibly proud and privileged to be a involved with such an amazing group of teens. 

One part of the evening was a presentation of famous speeches by the Speaking Team.  The first speech was read by a young girl whom I have known for quite some time.  It was a historic speech by Sojournor Truth called "Ain't I a Woman?"  What stood out to me about this speech was not necessarily the words.  I had read the speech before.  It was what happened to the person delivering the speech.  As she began, she was quiet, barely audible.  But as she continued to read, you could see her posture improve and hear her voice get louder.  It was beautiful.  Almost as if the power of those words, "Ain't I a woman?" gave her more and more confidence with each utterance.

So in honor of Black History Month I'm going to post a link to the the speech here.  If you haven't read it before, please take the time to read it now.  It was powerful when it was first heard in 1851.  And its power is still evident today.

Ain't I a Woman?

"We know just what we know..."

Yes.  Exactly.

and yet love happens

This Christmas

My Grandmother was a collector.  She collected miniatures, dolls, and many other things.  When she reposed, there was a bit of an argument among my sisters and I.  See, at some point in each of our lives our Grandmother promised each one of us could have her miniatures.  This fall, after Lucia was born, my sisters and I got together to divide the miniatures.  This task was quite difficult.  There was one particular miniature we all wanted....a gumball machine.  There were hurt feelings, but there was also lots of joy and squealing as we relived each little miniature and how it reminded us of our Grandma. 

I am facing a similar difficult task now.  One that is proving to be quite challenging.  My Grandpa has asked each of his children and grandchildren to bring an ornament to Christmas this year. This ornament should hold some memory of our Grandma.  It can be new, old or handmade, all that is required is that it represents my Grandma.  I am not exaggerating when I say that this one request has been occupying my mind ever since he asked me.  

I walked through Target last night intending to find a tree skirt.  Instead, I wandered over to the ornaments section analyzing each ornament and trying to find how it would exemplify Grandma.  And I found myself wanting.  None of the ornaments show her kind heart and gentle spirit.  There was no single ornament that would convey just how warm a hug from Grandma could be.  Her cheerful laugh and smile could not be reduced to a hanging bauble.  

It's hard to wrap my mind around a Christmas without her.  She has always, always been there.  Every piano recital, every speech, every play, every birthday, she was there.  Maybe that is why this task is so hard to accomplish.  I don't want to think about the fact that this Christmas she won't be there.  I trust that she is praying for us.  I feel it.  And I find comfort in knowing that the physical pain she endured these last couple years is over.

No matter what ornament I choose, I know that she will love it.  And when we all gather to hang our ornaments on the tree and explain what each one means, I believe that she will be present with us.

Coming Soon

It's been a while since I've taken the time to reflect and write something for our blog. We had initially set out to blog once a week for better or worse, for richer for poorer. Eh, forget it. We had the best intentions, though.

I wanted to write to spill my guts a little. I'm afraid. I think I've had two pretty severe panic attacks this year and even when they're not severe, they hit me like an almost paralysis.

Almost every time I go to confession, our priest encourages me with the phrase "don't worry about nothin'." How simple it is. "Come to me all you who are weary and I will give you rest". If I'm a Christian why do I feel so damned worried all the time? Who's watching me (besides Christ), what's after me, that could destroy my life?

I'm pinned down like a butterfly on display by these fears. They make me anxious, they make me tired and confused. They keep me from saying what I need to say to family, neighbors and friends. I'm isolated by fear. I'm owned by it.

Our priest did a healing service for me a couple weeks ago and it brought me to tears. There's something about having oil smeared all over you, right after ancient songs and prayers and the laying on of hands. I haven't had even a minor attack since then, and it's my belief that I am healed, maybe not completely, but healed nonetheless by Christ through His servant.

I'm still weary, though, and the frustrating anxieties and fears keep coming back. Maybe the question I should ask isn't "why is this happening" but rather "what to do in the face of it". The fears will come, the doubts, the struggles, the what ifs, the panicky, heart racing, oh-my-God-I-thought-I-was-going-to-die scenarios. We all struggle, but there is help, there is healing.

On another note, we will be having a baby in about three weeks. Lord knows when this will actually happen. It's come to my attention that in the midst of all the health problems and preparing for the baby and chasing our daughter around and trying to find some peace and quiet that I've failed to prepare myself spiritually and emotionally for this child. The other day I swore I heard an almost audible voice saying "make room in your heart and your life for baby Turtle (our nickname for the little one)". We've made room in our home. We've made room in our budget, our schedules, our. . .blog, but have we made room in our hearts, in our lives for this new life? How do you prepare for something like this? What did I do last time? Maybe the answer is that this baby will get what he or she gets. Maybe the answer is to let my ugliness hang out, to stop being pretentious and fake. We pray every Sunday after Holy Communion for "love unfeigned". I really mean it now. God, give me extra love in my heart for everyone.

We also pray every day for those we love: our family, friends, acquaintances, even enemies. We pray for those who have departed this life. I can't help but reflect again on the life and death of our last baby, Seraphim, as I prepare myself for our newest addition. Maybe there's a part of my heart that has still not let go of the miscarriage, has still not healed enough to love fully. Maybe it's this feeling of death creeping around every corner that contributes to my fear and uptightness. Whatever it is, help me, Lord, to come to terms with it, to confront it and see it for what it is.

So, here we stand on the cusp of more change than we ever bargained for, wearied and dazed. And ready to take life by the horns and make it run like a faithful steed (or at least not to knock us off every time it bucks). By the grace of God, to that end we go.

St. Joseph the All-Comely, the Patriarch, is my patron saint. I’ve grown up knowing his story and trying to emulate him as much as possible. But it wasn’t until young adulthood, in one of my last semesters in college, that I began to look at him with the eyes of an adult and not just a kid. I analyzed all the similar stories that were circulating in the area at that time that all seemed to mimic that of Potiphar’s wife and her forwardness with my saint. It seems that a man’s ability to rebuff the advances of a woman who is pursuant of his manliness, has been a value in many cultures, even if it is seen as nearly impossible for a young man with raging hormones.

Joseph’s story takes me back—in more ways than one--to the back seat of an old Honda Accord where I listened intently to an Adventures in Odyssey dramatization of the tale. At this time, the idea of a woman desiring a man was still disgusting to me and I remember cheering Joseph on as he let out his innocent cry and ran away from Potiphar’s seductive spouse.

Joseph is seen as a type of Christ by early Christians. As I reflected on his story a little bit more, I realized that he is stripped naked twice (once by his brothers, once by the aforementioned temptress) and that he is thrown into a “pit” twice (once into a literal pit by his brothers and once into prison by his boss). Christ was was also disrobed when he was crucified and thrown into a pit (Joseph of Arimethea’s tomb) and then he was stripped of (or stripped off) his grave clothes when he rose from the dead.

It is interesting to note that the word for pit in the Hebrew Scriptures seems to be almost synonymous with the word for Sheol, the place where all the dead go, not heaven, not hell (I think the common understanding of this word needs some work), just a place to go after you die. It seems like most of the Jews believed there was no afterlife, or at least no resurrection, but there were some who held on to a belief that God could raise the dead (the Pharisees). For many of these folks, hearing about some outspoken, but obviously powerful, Jew who Himself had raised the dead, healed the sick, and who supposedly had risen himself from the depths of Sheol (Greek, Hades), would have been almost too much. When it turned out that this same Jew had alluded to the fact that He was “one with the Father” and seemed to imply at other times that he was the “I am” (YHWH in Hebrew), the issue would have been almost unbearable.

For many, though, especially a certain man named Saul who was confronted with the risen, glorified Jesus Christ, this man would do what Joseph the Patriarch did to his brothers when he revealed who he was to them in Egypt: cause them to weep with remorse.

It is also interesting that Joseph brought about the salvation of his people by storing grain and distributing it slowly. Christians believe that Jesus is the bread of life, and some of us believe that his very body and blood are present with us whenever we partake of Holy Communion. The salvation towards which Christ leads us is different than that of Joseph, whose glory was forgotten and gave way to an iron-fisted Pharoah who would only give in after all power had been pried from his hands by a series of plagues. Christ leads us to an eternal, final, decisive salvation, a Kingdom which will never end. Without Joseph the All-comely’s life, it is possible that the Jews would have been wiped out, but, by God’s grace, they were preserved long enough for the birth of a young Virgin whose greatest prayer was “Let it be unto me as you have said”. “Not my will but Yours be done”, prayed her only biological Son. I can only think that Joseph’s statement, “What you meant for evil, God meant for good, the saving of many” was the seed of this willingness to surrender and be stripped completely naked to be thrown into a pit. Thankfully, in His providence, God uses “the weak things to shame the strong”. This is what we hope to be true for our lives.

On holy week, Joseph is remembered for his likeness to Christ. In the Icon above, he is pictured in a worshipful, surrendered pose similar to that of St. John the Forerunner and many others.

When he reposed, Joseph’s bones were somehow kept among the Isrealites as they had made a promise to take his bones with them out of Egypt. And this is exactly what they did when they escaped from the oppression of Pharoah through the Red Sea. I'm not sure where his bones are now, but my saint's life will always be remembered, especially in the Kingdom of God. St. Joseph the all-comely, living in Christ forever, pray to God for us!

On Melting Down and Humility

Sometimes, pregnancy can bring out the worst in me.

Let me preface this by saying that I am one of those women that LOVES being pregnant. Seriously, I love it. As soon as that baby belly pops out I am given this super human strength and confidence unlike any I have while I am not pregnant. I become assertive and speak my mind. I know what I want and I don't mind asking people to get it for me. Never am I more comfortable in my own skin than when I am pregnant.

However, with this assertiveness, strength and confidence comes an ugly side. A part of me that loses patience more easily, snaps at the slightest teasing comment or just completely loses control of emotions rises to the surface. Oh is it ugly. Unfortunately, its the people that I love the most that receive this ugly side.

The other day I snapped at my beautiful daughter. Like, seriously snapped. So much that it stopped her in her tracks and she looked at me with this look I have never seen before. I believe it was a mixture of fear and confusion. She had no idea why I would speak to her like I had. I immediately felt guilty and apologized.

My sweet, patient, loving husband gets it too. And when I think about it...really think about it, I feel awful. How can I treat the ones I love with such impatience and disrespect? What is wrong here? What am I missing?

As I went to confession this last week, these incidents were weighing heavily on my mind. As I confessed my sins to Christ and my Father I immediately felt the weight lifted and my eyes were opened to what was missing. "How can you expect to be patient and kind," my Priest asked "if you forget God?"

And there it was. I forget God.

Sure, I could blame the pregnancy hormones on my mood swings and my impatience. That would be easy. That wouldn't require any change of me.

But it's more than that. I have neglected prayer. I have not asked God to help me to love unceasingly. I have forgotten Him entirely.

I will end with a quote from Saint John of Kronstadt, taken from a booklet entitled Children in the Church Today. I will shorten the passage, since it is quite lengthy, but encourage you to read the entire passage if you can get a hold of it.

In everything and at every time strive to please God and think of the salvation of your soul from sin and from the Devil, and its adoption by God. On rising from your bed, make the sign of the Cross and say: "In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit," and also, "Vouchsafe, O Lord, to keep us this day without sin and teach me to do Thy will." While washing, either at home or at the baths, say: "Purge me with hyssop, Lord, and I shall be clean; wash me and I shall be whiter than snow." When putting on your linen, think of the cleanliness of the heart, and ask the Lord for a clean heart: "Create in me a clean heart, O God!" If you have made new clothes and are putting them on, think of the renewal of the spirit and say: "Renew a right spirit within me"; laying aside old clothes, and disdaining them, think with still greater disdain of laying aside the old man, the sinful, passionate, carnal man. Tasting the sweetness of bread, think of the true bread, which gives eternal life to the soul--the Body and Blood of Christ--and hunger after this bread--that is, long to communicate of it oftener. Drinking water, tea, sweet-tasting mead or any other drink, think of the true drink that quenches the thirst of the soul inflamed by passions--of the most pure and life-giving Blood of the Saviour. Resting during the day, think of the eternal rest, prepared for those who wrestle and struggle against sin, against the subcelestial spirits of evil, against human injustice or rudeness or ignorance.....

St. John of Kronstadt continues on with many other times of day and actions we take in our daily lives. Even if all I do is begin my day like he suggests, I have a feeling I would be less impatient, less snippy and more loving.

Lord, have mercy!

Water, Sun, and Soil (Dying and Dining with Christ)

"O God, you are my God, I seek you, my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water" (Ps. 62(or 63):1)

"I stretch out my hands to you; my soul thirsts for you like a parched land" (Ps. 142 (or 143):6)

"Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life." (John 4:13-14)

Whenever I think of water now--this is horrible--I think of the mermaid (or merman) scene in Zoolander. "Water is the essence of moisture, and moisture is the essence of life." "Merman, Pop. (cough cough) Merman."

Now that I've ruined what was going to be a deep, introspective look at water, thirst and the need to quench that thirst, I will begin.

Water really is the essence of moisture, and moisture really is the essence of life. This is why Christ describes what He gives as water. He gave Himself up for the life of the world, as it says in the Gospels. When He was speared on the cross, blood and water flowed out of him. It was in water that he was baptized and commanded his disciples and apostles to baptize in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

The reading from the Gospel last week was from John, about the Samaritan woman at the well. This reading takes the image of water, so prevalent in the Old Testament (The Spirit of YHWH hovering over the waters, the parting of the Red Sea and the Jordan, Moses disobediently striking the stone instead of speaking to it and water gushing out, etc.) and revitalizes it with Christ himself as the source of that water, and eternal life.

I'm realizing through prayer, attempted fasting, and going to Church to receive the body and blood of Christ, that my desire as an Orthodox Christian is, much like that of all Christians, to make Christ the source of my life.

The way we are encouraged to do this, however, is different and leads us into a personal (in the deepest sense of the word) relationship with Christ. We believe that He is the "illumination of our souls and bodies", as a prayer from St. John Chrysostom says, and that He is "the light that enlightens and sanctifies every man that comes into the world", as St. John the Theologian says in his Gospel. But I wasn't talking about light, was I? I was talking about water.

Aren't these the two things needed to sustain all organic (or carbon-based) life? All we're missing is soil. It is from the soil that God made man. There you go. These three things are essential for life to exist on the earth, and their use in the Scriptures guides us to a deeper understanding of our own lives. We are made from dust, but we are not just dust. In our souls and bodies there is something eternal, something that can and will never die because Christ has conquered death and brought the whole created world up into eternity with Him. "For God so loved the kosmos that He gave his only begotten Son. . ." (John 3:16)

I was comforted to know, as we've been on this journey, that Orthodox Christians don't believe in a distant God who created the world and left it to fend for itself. We believe that God is "everywhere present and fills all things" as a daily prayer of invocation of the Holy Spirit testifies. We are panentheists not pantheists. This nearness, though, raises all kinds of problems when we see so many things that are out of joint: natural disasters (or Acts of God!) diseases, murder, child abuse, miscarriage, just to name a few.

How can God be so close to touching every living thing and yet let or cause so much death and destruction take place? I hadn't set out to address that question when I started this blog. It seems like too much for right now. Just briefly, though, I believe that God weeps with all those who weep, bleeds with those who bleed, and yet is completely unharmed, untouched, and unchanged by doing that. To paraphrase what Bishop Kallistos Ware writes in his book The Orthodox Way, there was a cross in God's heart before there was ever a cross on Calvary. We believe in a God who is nearer to us than sunlight and rain, who is personal, who is able to empathize with our humanity, who cares about the death even of the smallest insect or plant, yet who is so perfect, holy and wholly other than us that His nearness could be the death of us.

And so we strive daily to die with Him, so that we may dine with Him. Dying and dining with (and on) Christ week in and week out, trying to cram our whole messy, un-tucked, scabbed-over, exhausted, prideful existence into the life of the Holy Trinity. Here we go again. Help us, save us, have mercy on us, and keep us, O God, by Thy grace.

Lent: Part 2

I started to write a blog but realized it could all be summed up quite simply:

"Hallelujah" and "what the hell am I going to do?!" all in the same breath.