Just Faith, Everyday

I am remembering the holiday of my youth, the reason why it was so exciting. Time slowed down for play, for naps, for catching up. I hear rain smattering windows, see leaves floating down, brown, orange. They are a living poem. Overwhelmed by beauty, I look down at a sleeping girl, one big pout, long eyelashes. Her warmth is a dream. She IS real. Sometimes I have to remind myself, rub my belly, consider where I've been, consider the wonder of it. Joy and Wonder. These are my mantras this holiday, Advent--awaiting--what? I already have so much! How could I receive more? God recreates us as we wait, each day converting our hearts into joy. I want to give this joy and wonder, help others see it. Maybe joy comes in knowing that the little things of life make the best gifts: port, cheese, chocolate, and good conversation with a friend on a cold night; creating a satisfying voice in my writing; connecting with family over silly squabbles and lovely moments shared; helping a stude...

Halloween was never a time of unbridled fun; for that matter, not much was in my altogether protected childhood. My remembrance was activity restricted: get in the car and go across town to family households. We got good candy, and popcorn balls, and little toys; the joy of flitting through the streets in costumes creative and flowing was for the other kids on the block. It wasn’t until I had my firstborn daughter that I was able to flit from door to door with my little ladybug. Look for the front porch light, they said. I had never looked for a front door light, didn’t even know that was the agreed-upon sign. It’s wonder for me--we look up and down the streets as we stroll, swinging loot bucket in hand, gathering super-cape and looking to the withering sunlight, feeling the nipping cold. It’s wonder. Every day I find a new thing to wonder at, and this light-on-the-porch-everyone-knew- about has led me into various reflections on the nature of communication. Doesn’t it seem dange...

It occurred to me today that the reason why so many people love social networking and Facebook in particular is that more often than not, these web pages exude happiness. I have my fair share of photo albums and love sharing images of all sorts, and looking around I see happy faces everywhere on other people's blogs and pages: smiling at birthday bashes, playing in leaves, sharing outlandish moments with friends, marking a passage in life, and on and on. I guess I might say I am addicted to FB--but moreso addicted to the happiness friends and family share through it. I am inspired by their cheer, positive outlook, and pure joy! By the same token, though, I find challenges to my thinking and way of being; even through the kind of griping we sometimes see in Facebook and blogs, there's something to learn about human nature in this sharing of ideas. It's not always a welcome experience, and sometimes we too readily judge with such a technologically savvy way of thumbs-up ...

On the way to the doctor's office, or the gym, or out for some special treat, I listen to my daughter wail in the backseat and consider a few things: *I am her first teacher *How can I possibly teach her to feel secure? *How do I teach comfort? So simple her solutions: a blanket soft and warm; watching children play; sipping milk; watching sunlight dapple; looking into a loved one's eyes; napping. Well that I would heed her example--perhaps the simple things of life are the solution. Then I considered it for myself--how have I taught myself comfort? When has it been given me? I find myself seeking comfort now and again--in community, in wisdom from other Moms and friends, in prayer and contemplation. I am suddenly grateful for all the support I get from true friendship and love; from a family who has been the center of my dreams and memories; from a kind of grace unique and powerful. Take a moment today and find gratefulness your comfort.

The small things of life don't often get our attention until they surface as life-giving moments. I'm counting things in smaller portions now that I'm a mom: milliliters, ounces, inches. Small plates of food versus a real meal, fifteen minute naps or fifteen minute feedings, two hours of sleep or none at all. Each element of life becomes more valuable to me as I accomplish my day, success or disaster. And that's just it--there will be either success or disaster and acceptance of both. How else could we live? However you measure your life, each step of it requires acceptance and acknowledgment before moving on. I cringe at how many times I've tried to move on before accepting something about myself and my life, and how counterproductive this was. As I accept each small thing, each life-giving moment, I see and feel something new. I can't seem to tire of waking Isabella for her feeding--warm, wrapped in a bundle, fragrant soft skin, laid out in a stretch on th...

“Faith is the (realization of/substance of) things hoped for, the evidence of things unseen.” --Hebrews 11: 2-3 On the 19th week of Ordinary Time my husband and I brought our daughter to church for the first time. As luck would have it, Fr. Tom was short of all kinds of help, and asked me to read--so I hobbled on up to the altar to have a look at the scripture for the day, only to find my favorite line in the Bible staring up at me, reminding me of the blessings Sarah and Abraham received. Much as we had, bringing our child into the world after some struggles with faith. I smiled to myself. Only God would nudge me in this way, our own private understanding. But I wonder and pause now to consider a discussion I had with a fellow congregant after Mass--the different translations: realization vs substance. I totally appreciate realization as the definition of faith. I am in the midst of a realization, about myself and the world, through the eyes of a child, vulnerable and new to ever...

Been thinking about the power of dreams lately--the way they seep into our lives, the way we work out our souls through them, grapple with our problems. I’ve been dreaming pretty intently lately, with great detail. An interesting little symptom during pregnancy, this dreaming, I know, this has to do with my little one, growing and moving inside. Dreams carry into our everyday lives, and our waking dreams move us, if we let them, along a path, in some direction. Choice after choice we come to be who we’re meant to be in the scheme of our dreams. What’s mind-blowing is the way in which this process consistently changes and moves us. I think I only recently realized the extent to which other people’s dreams can affect me, move me, help create opportunities for choice. Of course, all of this, to my eyes, has a kind of spiritual bend to it. It’s easy to forget God’s part in the equation, and humbling to remember the ways in which our will to choose the path we’re on is in itself a crea...

I find baking relaxing. There’s something about following a recipe, considering each part and what it contributes, that has a quieting hold on me. Each step, rendered properly, yields a wonderful end result. There are various mitigating factors--I worry about having the right kind of flour or butter, enough flavoring, and the ever-vexing oven temperature issue--but for the most part a recipe’s defined structure helps create that aroma of freshly baked something, made by my own hands, that spells satisfaction of the senses. Following directions for anything can be this satisfying, especially when victory over some sort of conundrum is the result: destination found, item fixed, program recorded, etc. Time with God can lead to an understanding about prayer which, while we like to think so, has no definable ingredients every time, but does yield the same results: an opening of self to God. Well, if we let it happen--but of course, that’s the hard part. My time with God has morphed i...

Looking up to the altar, my head began to spin--the vision of the monks gathering, the smell of incense, the blue and violet of the windows all began to swim together, and I found myself sitting down to make it stop. I was overheating, but did not know what to do. It’s not overstatement to say that the woman standing next to me suddenly seemed to know what I was thinking and what was happening to me. She leaned in and whispered “I can go out the door with you if you would like. You look like you need to rest--are you ok?” I looked up at her blurry face, thankful she understood my embarrassment at interrupting the service, and could only choke-- “But I want to take communion.” She knew better. “Ok--I will take you to the front--on the side there’s a chair you can sit on and wait, and it might be cooler there. I’ll get you some orange juice. Don’t worry.” I nodded, and took her hand, like a child, and let her lead me. She disappeared, and suddenly I found myself involuntarily cry...

It’s so easy not to be present. I think of all the times I have watched TV and had a conversation, or talked to someone on the cell phone and walked and managed something else at the same time. Looking around, I see people do this everyday (much to my dismay when I see people chat or text as they drive). How many things do we miss as we fill our moments with multitasking? I recently had the privilege of attending a retreat at the Monastery of the Holy Spirit in Conyers , where I learned about St. Benedict’s Rule, and found myself reflecting on the tenet of “attending the present moment.” This sense of attending is an important part of the deal--this requires commitment on our part. There’s something refreshing about a retreat, where we can set aside our usual worries of the everyday in favor of tending to our souls. I thought of this in my “monastery moment”--I sat in the courtyard of the abbey and listened to both the birds and the monks sing. The steady cadence of the chante...

I have always hated folding laundry. I used to scrunch socks together and not really care how shirts got folded in an effort to get them into my drawer, if I was industrious, as quickly as possible. The drudgery and time consumption of household tasks used to really irritate me, and I know I am not alone. Since getting married, though, and sharing some of this work, I have found, oddly, a kind of Zen to folding--sitting quietly on the bed neatly arranging, finding sock mates (mostly), folding and rolling shirts in my husband’s military style. I accomplish this order out of chaos while my husband might be grilling our dinner or vacuuming and feel a two-fold sense of accomplishment: teamwork and then this uncanny feeling of accomplishment with even the small things of everyday life. Reflecting on the next Benedictine tenets--balance and flexibility--fits in nicely with doing laundry and folding and accomplishing the everyday in part because we all need to do these ordinary things, b...

Lately I’ve been working on living simply--and how I can make that possible in my life. I feel like I’m called to create simplicity as a foundation from which God will create me anew in a kind of everyday spiritual conversion. Today, I am honored to share with you the beginning of a reflection series on living simply that I started back during Lent and am striving to carry through the Easter season and beyond. During Lent I followed St. Benedict’s Rule --a basic breakdown regarding simplicity: moderation; balance and flexibility; attending to the present moment; generosity of spirit; and time with God. I want to reflect on moderation today, in part because what’s happening to me now calls me to rethink and pray through some big changes. We’re having a baby! My husband has been building a storage shed to make room (in such a small living space) for our little one. While I know things will get complicated when it comes to all a baby *might* need, I hope to maintain some simplicity in t...

Recently my husband and I took the dogs for a walk. They don’t get to do this often (since they roam our large yard), and when they do, they’re utterly enthusiastic about the trip--however short or ordinary--and I always find this beguiling. I want to be excited like this all the time! The going is hard at first--both dogs pull hard at their leashes, so eager to move forward, excited by new smells and sounds. Makes it hard for them to walk their humans, but maybe a little like them: too anxious to see what’s ahead. I started thinking, as Buster yanked in a new direction and sniffed at the foot of a tree, that when I get like this I force my own way instead of letting God calm me and handle me and lead me. Imitating my husband as he trains Dot to stop yanking, I hold Buster for a moment, letting his breathing slow and calm build. Each time he gets overanxious I pause, and in a little while he relents and walks beside me--and we both enjoy the scenery together. Maybe God does thi...

I am always fascinated by the way scent truly is the most powerful memory instigator--and for me that pairs with the visual lately, because I’m getting that Southern Spring feeling again. Each month brings a special scent and beautiful blossom, and it’s about at May that I start really noticing--hey, this same time last year the very same tree did the very same thing: sprung drooping blossoms of lemony-scented natural art. Every time I walk by it on my way into the YMCA, I sniff and take it in: magnolia. I am reminded that Mother’s Day is near, summer is coming, that school is nearly out, and that this time however long ago I was preparing for my wedding, or traveling across Georgia, or doing something marked in time by this blossoming tree, with its deep shade and twisted branches. I want to crawl up underneath the biggest one I can find, recline on a huge, old branch, and read. The same happens when I set foot outside my door, and the unmistakeable scent of honeysuckle greets me....

Today I spent my last day in class before I have my baby, and the experience called up for me the ways in which teaching has shaped my life. Saying goodbye to this, even temporarily as I am, has implications on the way I will come to view my identity. All this time, I have invested myself in the betterment of others--through writing and learning and discussion. I have seen students grow and other stymied, caught up with them years later and marveled at change, at maturity. Now I will come to see this at the other end of the age bracket, in my own child. I also saw in myself growth and change in ideas, and in the way I share these with others. I have made my classroom a place where not only did we discuss literature and all that usually entails--I made it a place where awareness becomes central to the lesson. I feel enriched by the experience of considering everything from my student’s varying faith perspectives and practices, to discussions on the Middle East as it now appears in...

Last night I counted the stars--for the first time seeing the moon and Saturn through a real telescope. Considering the constellations and the rich history behind them inspired me--the connections between the stars, the patterns they make, finding my way along the sky by the laser pointer of the kind gentleman who enthusiastically taught us what he knew. This morning I find myself thinking about this in the context of the friendships that have sustained me over the years. I have albums and boxes and now digital scores of pictures from every treasured trip, many moments of joy and of milestone. Friends and family in them tell me about myself, in retrospect-- I can’t repay the debt of gratitude I have for my friendships except to honor and commemorate. All this social networking has been a boon to friendship--I find deep delight in reconnecting with long lost friends as if we’d never had time and space between us: it’s a sort of alternate universe of friendship. I see connections no...

I am excited I got to share this with a wider audience--and this blog is great if you're looking for Catholic perspective. Check it out. http://charisministries.blogspot.com/

I find it hard to slow down. Are you like me? I have made various efforts to--most notably Centering Prayer , which requires 20 minutes or so of sitting still, eyes closed, focused on nothing but one word--or, at least, coming back to it, after my brain continues to run through a list of things to do, runs ahead of itself. Each day presents new challenges to this contemplative practice, but I keep on--the rewards are too great in my life to give up, and I feel compelled to create that moment for God in my everyday life. I was just thinking that, when I stay home this summer preparing for the baby and creating a curriculum for a new 1101 class, then my life will have significantly slowed down, and that I will probably have trouble not having three proverbial pots boiling at once! Perhaps I should enjoy this as the calm before the storm--the baby will certainly take a great deal of my attention, after all, and then I need to remember the other factors in my life: my husband, my frien...

I am overwhelmed today with gratefulness for all the blessings I have. I have a child kicking inside me, growing from translucence to a creature of heart and soul, bone and flesh, and seemingly who already knows and understands me. I know some of this is in my head, but I also know that God touches me with thoughts and ideas and realities. It’s how I know my baby right now. What’s strange about this is that while I feel movement, it’s still so unbelievable to think of how both separated and part of Peanut’s life I am. This unique time really has my attention: how can I feel such love and admiration for this little someone I have not met yet? I am so impressed with Peanut’s resilience--through two accidents and difficult times in the first months. I sense Peanut loving music of different sorts now--the kicking and dancing at bluegrass, peace and calm with classical and jazz, flutters with reggae. I love to feel the little movements--wonder what the baby’s adapting to in there? I ...

I am the daughter of immigrants, firmly Catholic and Portuguese in my upbringing, and I find myself reflecting back now on all that built my faith, my sense of the world. I think maybe, that by reflecting on my path, I can make sense of what happens to me in the now, and meet it with the same kind of faith, struggle, renewal, joy and trepidation I have always met life’s challenges with. I find myself later in life experiencing the Paschal mystery over and over, and the hope I share with you today is rooted in where I find myself now: unpacking the box of God’s surprises and both delighting in His ways and in awe of the long line of experiences that bring me here before you today. I moved to Georgia from Massachusetts 13 years ago, seeking a Master’s degree and following who I then thought was the love of my life--only to find myself in six months with the promise of marriage dashed, alone with my thoughts and degree work, and, happily, suddenly surrounded by friends and community tha...

I just got back from a small load grocery trip, to make my husband some tacos. I get all excited about the possibilities--the avocado, the cilantro, the lime, those flavors melded together. Makes me think of my favorite Mexican restaurant in town, owned and operated by immigrants who are now newly populating our area--of the humble simplicity of the food, the pride with which it is presented. Makes me also think of the little faces of children in the after school tutoring program, awaiting parents’ arrival from the chicken factories, fidgeting grimy shoes and smoothing well-worn skirts, hungry for their simple snack of a cookie. What struck me as I wandered the aisles was not so much the sharp pain in my back from sitting at work for too long, but the endless variety and choices that lay before me. To make this simple and humble meal, I had two choices of avocado, four choices of onions, mounds of cilantro and limes green as a summer field--in the dead of winter. I had something ...

Twenty-some hours on a train makes for plenty of opportunities to reflect, and as I travel on the next-to-last day of this decade, I’m reflecting on resolve--not necessarily resolutions. In music, the resolve helps lead into harmonic change in a song, and perhaps in life, I’m experiencing a desire for harmony. Looking out to the swiftly rolling countryside I meditate on the answers, on the way to achieve harmonic change in my life. Only God could have brought me to this point in my life! As the rails hum and the wheels of our train glide over them, unbeknownst to us warmly sheltered in our cabin, various bodies of water and mountainous wide expanses grace our windows. Each vista touches my memory--of the times I had taken this train before, or of places like these. The darkness of the trees as the sun sets--their trunks against the pastel December sky--brought to mind my childhood in New England, of beach trip afternoons or countryside drives, of a time when my thoughts and hang-up...