Life Sometimes Hurts

I debated a long time whether or not to say anything. As a catholic homeschooler their is a lot of pressure to only show the beauty in living out one’s faith and calling so as to encourage others. The reality is that having faith and enjoying one’s calling does not mean there won’t be serious challenges. I have always had a hard time with people who think if you practice your faith and pray hard life will only bring happy blessings. To them I say read Job!

God’s greatest graces and most beautiful blessings are born from pain and suffering.

I decided to in general way go public so that other hurting souls who may feel alone, ashamed or embarrassed to admit to being challenged will know they are not alone. Faith does not protect you from pain. Pain can destroy faith if we give into hopelessness and despair. It is a huge temptation. For anyone feeling themselves at the breaking point, God hears you! Fight, fight, fight, and when you have no more strength fall at the feet of God and surrender your pain to His will. Don’t move from there, don’t run, don’t think, don’t do anything. Just lay at his feet and cry, yell, be angry. He can handle all your emotions. He won’t take it personally and walk away. He wants you there so you can unburden yourself and let Him free you. I do it on a daily basis right now! He keeps welcoming me back. God will turn our pain into fertilizer for faith. For you non farmers, the original and best fertilizer is sh@!. Literally dung makes food grow! So that stinky stuff that has over taken your life and emotions right now is actually at work underground right now strengthening the your roots.

I won’t give into the pain and let the ugliness smoother me (though feel free to pray for me because I often am tempted). I am going to use it to till my field and let time show me the beautiful things that are growing!

Children’s Perspective on Dad

Why do you love dad and how does he make you feel?

Margaret 7 mths:
Big two toothed grin.

Joanna 1 ¾ yrs:
“Dada ta,” with a smile and affirmative head nod.

Sarah 4 yrs:
“He always tickles me there,” said while pointing under her arm. “He makes me happy”

Jane 5 ½ yrs:
“Dad makes me feel good. He hugs me and plays with me and kisses me and walks with me when we go to the water fountain. He hugs my heart. He gives mom money.”

Laura 6 ½ yrs:
“He is nice. He buys junk for us. He plays rough with me and board games and card games. He hugs me.”

Paul 7 ¾ yrs:
“He is very nice because he lets us play in the wizz. He makes delicious food. He makes me feel really good.”

Amelia 10 yrs:
“I love him because he is my dad. He makes me feel happy and comfortable and safe. The comfort is when he lays down and cuddles us. The safe is because when the rooster chased me he went back at the rooster. He makes me feel happy when he wrestles and plays with us and when he comes home.”

Lucas 11 yrs:
“He is my father. He is the one who supports me. He works at SAC and feeds me. He makes me happy except when we get into fights. He makes me feel good, special and loved.”

Rambling Thoughts on Prayer Part I: No Time to Pray

     Reading the lives of saints and catholic authors I have always felt inadequate in the “never ceasing to pray” department. I thought it impossible to always have God on my mind and lips. The idea of thinking of God 24/7 seemed exhausting. How could I get anything done if I was always praying? In one of the older catholic prayer books I was blessed to have been given, it was recommended to start with a short prayer. A simple, “Help me God” or “Thank you Jesus”. It seemed silly and childish, but easy! I wanted to praise God and think of Him, but distractions were ample with crying children, dirty floors…

     My excuse for not praying more was always time and lack of quiet. A couple of years ago I read, Holiness for Housewives and Other Working Women. While reading this book it finally dawned on me that He doesn’t expect me to pray the same routine as a cloistered nun or even as a woman whose children have left the nest. I didn’t need to have an hour a day by myself to read scripture and meditate. My prayer has to be of the work variety.

I offer up cleaning the same floor four times in the span of two hours because of milk, tracked in chicken poop, potty training toddler, and dog-water-bucket-splashing-children-who-should-know-better. God is praised for the miracle of life as I wash perfect baby toes and soft toddler curls. God is thanked for the wonderful husband who works hard to provide for us as I prepare dinner. God’s creation is marveled at his while taking nature walks with my young explorers. God’s wisdom is sought as I struggle to answer about evil in the world to growing adolescents. God’s peace is sought as I try to stay calm with the chaos of eight little people around me. Reflection of the Gospel story is pondered while I pray the rosary folding laundry, doing dishes, or cuddling freshly bathed PJ wearing children during our evening family rosary. My scripture reflections are often from one of the children’s school books. God’s holy saints are learned about from Lucas when he retells a story from one of his Seton books. (When I win the lotto I never play, I want to get the full Seton curriculum for all my kids.) Even illness is an opportunity to offer praise and gratitude to our Father! Illness is a great guilt reliever to stay in bed and read the Bible, or about the life of a Saint of my choosing.

In the beginning of my quest for more time in prayer I would often forget my goal. Anxiety about managing life or just “busyness” would distract me. For me it has been a slow habit to form. Having religious objects and pictures around the house serves as a great reminder. Teaching the children to say a prayer as an emergency vehicle passes or for souls in purgatory when passing the cemetery, and Grace before meals helps because they don’t forget and enjoy these family prayer times. When it takes my exhausted, scattered brain three or four tries to say one Our Father and actually concentrate on all the words, I know that God is happy with my small imperfect attempt to connect with Him. God has blessed me with my many “interrupters”. He expects me to pray through their care not despite it!