We noticed the grey spots in our toddler's premolars a couple months after the teeth erupted, but just brushed them a bit more and hoped for the best. A couple months later, they looked worse, so I took him to a dentist. The dentist had a happy, calm way of talking, which was nice. Levi was calm too and allowed the dental exam just fine, even though he was really shy and a little scared.
Except it really threw me off when the dentist happily, calmly, told me that Levi had cavities on each premolar and on most of the incisors, front and back and probably between the teeth as well. At least ten or twelve cavities, he said, and he would need x-rays to check the spots between the teeth that he suspected were decaying as well. He wanted to set up a surgery appointment at the Children's Hospital to destroy them all at once, and also get those x-rays and a cleaning in while the child was drugged into submission (??!!). Anyway, that's not the way we do things with Levi. Sometimes you have to force kids to do stuff, but sometimes consent and respect are really important, especially if they are scared.
That aside, the idea of using general anesthesia so casually on such a tiny person disturbed us, especially after a little reading up, so we said no. Really, the surgery idea was wholly preposterous for a few reasons, but the point is that we decided to get a second opinion and look into other options.
I read Cure Tooth Decay by Ramiel Nagel. Matthew dug into academic dentistry articles (I'm grateful to him), and we both learned about other things we could do to manage the situation. Minimally Invasive Dentistry is supported by the research and literature, but not as profitable for dentists and not very popular (yet). We had a few meetings to determine exactly what we were going to do (there are way more suggestions than anyone can actually implement), and it was stressful, but we went ahead.
I had a hard time finding another pediatric dentist because a lot of practices in town aren't accepting new patients, or don't accept two-year-olds because they are so little. I made a new appointment, but had to cancel it, then that dentist moved away or something... Three months went by, oops.
We took Levi to his new dentist last week and again he behaved well for the exam again. The dentist said he has no cavities, none at all! Just "really deep grooves, little pits on the incisors, and lots of stains." I told her the other dentist described those grooves and pits as "soft." She said, "well, they are hard." Which is exactly what would theoretically happen if his teeth had succeeded in remineralizing, but wow! We are astonished! I showed her the papers from the crazy driller dentist and she didn't want to say anything except that she didn't perform that exam, but she admitted that maybe they had indeed recalcified.
We're THRILLED. I'm really shocked. The decay was visible and looked awful, so it's amazing to know the unconventional stuff we did actually worked.
Just a quick run-down: we did a LOT of things, mostly dietary.
-We cut out as much phytic acid from the diet as possible. Levi went from eating oats or oatmeal daily to almost never. We switched to white grains with the exception of the sprouted whole wheat flour I add to our bread dough.
-We stopped letting him snack on dried fruit, another really big change. Raisins had been a staple.
-We brushed at least twice daily, one time with a fluoridated toothpaste. I flossed him a couple times, surely that counts for something, hahah. Before May, I didn't even stress if we missed a day entirely. Not anymore!
-On that note, the first dentist applied a topical fluoride treatment, and the second one did too. We also drink city tap water, as we did all along.
-We became really strict about not allowing anything except water after bedtime tooth-brushing. I had previously never put any thought or effort into that whatsoever.
-According to the Cure Tooth Decay book, the most important thing we did was supplement our diet with cod liver oil. We got really lucky because our kid likes the fishy-tasting stuff, and requests a spoonful if I forget.
-We use an expensive oral probiotic, ProBio Max DDS
-We also added daily high-vitamin butter oil (ghee from cows that ate fast-growing grass in late spring), and fat-soluble vitamins from high-quality animal sources (grass-fed dairy, pasture-raised eggs, organic meats, etc.) This was the most delicious and appealing aspect of the new plan, and truly enjoyable.
-I have cooked with organic bone broth whenever I can think to do so. According to what we read, we're supposed to be eating a lot more bone broth than we succeeded in doing, but I gave it my best effort. There were a couple weeks where I gave him a tiny mug with warm broth daily, but he didn't love it and often wasted half of it, so I stopped and just made soups and stuff.
Looking at that list, I realize we did actually make a pretty big effort to help Levi's teeth. But at the beginning of the process I felt confused and depressed about the whole thing, so I write this down to maybe help someone else. I really had no idea we would succeed. I just thought we would try to slow down the decay until he was old enough for other treatments. This is SO MUCH BETTER.
Also, it was delicious. I love the organic dairy.
I have my dentist appointment next week. I had one cavity last time, my first. Will they say it is gone? ;-)
Thursday, August 24, 2017
Thursday, March 16, 2017
Stop telling moms they have their hands full
I recently spent the day at the Denver Museum of Nature and Science, wandering around some cool exhibits with my friend's kinds while she had a meeting in another part of the museum. It was actually pretty easy since we used her double stroller and my toddler conveniently fit inside with the other two. For the Prehistoric Journey, I put the baby in a carrier on my back and held the toddlers' hands (ages 1.5 and 3). That was probably the most difficult bit, and it wasn't very difficult. Most of the time, they were chilling in the stroller, content and quiet and eating snacks and talking about animals.
I felt incredulous that in literally every exhibit, some older person felt the need to tell me I had my hands full. I did not have my hands full. Literally, figuratively, whatever, I just didn't. Since then, I've mentioned this story to other mothers with multiple children and they say this is just the normal thing for strangers to say.
I am so confused why this is the normal comment. You have your hands full? I can't even tell if it's a respectful compliment or a bit of schadenfreude from someone who doesn't have kids.
First, let me say, it's not a very nice comment. It felt like people were saying I had too many kids with me to handle. Beyond the judgy nuances, it's just not true. Maybe if they had been badly behaved the comment would make more sense, but as I said, they were quiet and reclined and just happy to be at the museum with a granola bar.
Next, it's a cliche and possibly indicates people have never thought much about what they're saying. So that's a good reason to just hold it inside. Anyway, I personally don't really like being addressed by strangers for no reason.
May I suggest everyone consider switching to just a quiet smile (I do like that). Or if you're the type that feels impelled to say things to moms you don't know, how about saying something nice? Here are some great examples:
"So cute!"
"They're having fun!"
"Looking good."
Now, the other side of the issue is when moms actually do have their hands full and may be a bit overwhelmed by children. I still think "you have your hands full" is a stupid thing to say to a stranger in public. Either say nothing, say something kind, or say something complimentary. These are the basic rules of how to be polite.
For example, when my baby was six months old, I carried him through a Buy Buy Baby store in my Boba wrap (hands-free mommy!). I saw a woman pushing newborn twins in a cart. First, I stared at the cute babies, obviously. Later I saw that one was crying pretty hard and the mother was fumbling to prepare him a bottle on the fly. Flustered, she dropped a scoop of formula powder on the floor. Clearly, this was a "you have your hands full" moment.
Personally, I know that bottle-feeding is WAY HARDER than natural feeding. My newborn rarely latched and I spent the first few weeks bottle-feeding him pumped milk around the clock. It was exhausting. I felt so much empathy for this woman that I just had to walk over and say SOMETHING. I said, "Hi, can I give you a hand?" And she said yes. So, there are rare circumstances where offering to help is an appropriate way to interact as well.
As a mom who will probably someday be "one of those" with more children than our culture deems "normal," I'd like us all to move beyond telling women they have their hands full. It's just not very kind. Thank you!
I felt incredulous that in literally every exhibit, some older person felt the need to tell me I had my hands full. I did not have my hands full. Literally, figuratively, whatever, I just didn't. Since then, I've mentioned this story to other mothers with multiple children and they say this is just the normal thing for strangers to say.
I am so confused why this is the normal comment. You have your hands full? I can't even tell if it's a respectful compliment or a bit of schadenfreude from someone who doesn't have kids.
First, let me say, it's not a very nice comment. It felt like people were saying I had too many kids with me to handle. Beyond the judgy nuances, it's just not true. Maybe if they had been badly behaved the comment would make more sense, but as I said, they were quiet and reclined and just happy to be at the museum with a granola bar.
Next, it's a cliche and possibly indicates people have never thought much about what they're saying. So that's a good reason to just hold it inside. Anyway, I personally don't really like being addressed by strangers for no reason.
May I suggest everyone consider switching to just a quiet smile (I do like that). Or if you're the type that feels impelled to say things to moms you don't know, how about saying something nice? Here are some great examples:
"So cute!"
"They're having fun!"
"Looking good."
Now, the other side of the issue is when moms actually do have their hands full and may be a bit overwhelmed by children. I still think "you have your hands full" is a stupid thing to say to a stranger in public. Either say nothing, say something kind, or say something complimentary. These are the basic rules of how to be polite.
For example, when my baby was six months old, I carried him through a Buy Buy Baby store in my Boba wrap (hands-free mommy!). I saw a woman pushing newborn twins in a cart. First, I stared at the cute babies, obviously. Later I saw that one was crying pretty hard and the mother was fumbling to prepare him a bottle on the fly. Flustered, she dropped a scoop of formula powder on the floor. Clearly, this was a "you have your hands full" moment.
Personally, I know that bottle-feeding is WAY HARDER than natural feeding. My newborn rarely latched and I spent the first few weeks bottle-feeding him pumped milk around the clock. It was exhausting. I felt so much empathy for this woman that I just had to walk over and say SOMETHING. I said, "Hi, can I give you a hand?" And she said yes. So, there are rare circumstances where offering to help is an appropriate way to interact as well.
As a mom who will probably someday be "one of those" with more children than our culture deems "normal," I'd like us all to move beyond telling women they have their hands full. It's just not very kind. Thank you!
Wednesday, October 21, 2015
Certified Nurse Midwife List
Hi!
I had my first baby a few months ago at Avista Hospital in Louisville, Colorado. We worked with a lovely midwife, Claudia Berg at Avista Women's Care.
I initially had a lot of trouble finding a Certified Nurse-Midwife (CNM). We wanted to be in a hospital for this birth but with a midwife. Unfortunately, this isn't so easy to do. While home birth midwives abound in Boulder, there aren't any who can deliver babies in the hospital here.
I'm really happy we found Claudia and I was able to have such a "natural" hospital birth. She did provide me with a list of nearby CNMs and I thought I'd share them all in one place:
Avista Women's Care in Louisville. CNMs Amber Johnson, Virginia Naegle and Claudia Berg.
The Birth Center of Boulder. CNMs Angela Stevens and Shaunti Meyer. www.birthcenterofboulder.com
Westside Women's Care in Arvada and Wheat Ridge. CNMs Julie Javernick, Norine Taylor, Jennifer Holcomb, Patty McHardy, Brenda Bridges, Pam Weitzel, and Julie Stretz.
Denver Health. "Approximately 26 CNMs. Amazing midwives with a true midwifery approach despite the large inner-city hospital setting."
Baby+Company of Wheat Ridge. CNMs Susan Mitchell and Laura Thielke www.babyandcompany.com
I had my first baby a few months ago at Avista Hospital in Louisville, Colorado. We worked with a lovely midwife, Claudia Berg at Avista Women's Care.
I initially had a lot of trouble finding a Certified Nurse-Midwife (CNM). We wanted to be in a hospital for this birth but with a midwife. Unfortunately, this isn't so easy to do. While home birth midwives abound in Boulder, there aren't any who can deliver babies in the hospital here.
I'm really happy we found Claudia and I was able to have such a "natural" hospital birth. She did provide me with a list of nearby CNMs and I thought I'd share them all in one place:
Avista Women's Care in Louisville. CNMs Amber Johnson, Virginia Naegle and Claudia Berg.
The Birth Center of Boulder. CNMs Angela Stevens and Shaunti Meyer. www.birthcenterofboulder.com
Westside Women's Care in Arvada and Wheat Ridge. CNMs Julie Javernick, Norine Taylor, Jennifer Holcomb, Patty McHardy, Brenda Bridges, Pam Weitzel, and Julie Stretz.
Denver Health. "Approximately 26 CNMs. Amazing midwives with a true midwifery approach despite the large inner-city hospital setting."
Baby+Company of Wheat Ridge. CNMs Susan Mitchell and Laura Thielke www.babyandcompany.com
Tuesday, July 21, 2015
Opinion
Hi,
Here are some things:
1. Long-term, committed, monogamous homosexual relationships
2. Birth control and human sterilization
People who morally object to the one but accept the other have some sorting out to do, I'm sorry to say. At best, it's just deeply unthinking. At worst, the dreaded h-word, hypocrisy. I think most of the people I know are just in the not-thought-through camp. So, it's time to think about it.
If chastity is just about enduring suffering or delayed gratification, if marriage is only about love, if sex is just for pleasure, if it's ok to disassemble normally functioning body systems like machine parts just for convenience, if fertility is an optional afterthought, then of course same-sex marriage is fine. And the only surprise that should be happening in our society right now is the surprise that it has taken so long for us to arrive here. And the "America needs to repent" finger-pointing at gay marriage is embarrassingly ridiculous.
For those of us who are more logical and morally object to both, let's please move on from complaining and fear-mongering. Maybe we could talk about how we can help, how we can love, how we can think of more helpful ideas for our homosexual friends and family.
For further reading of similarly unpopular opinions, see Wendell Berry's essay, "The Body and the Earth" or Karol Wojtyla's (JPII is a much catchier name) Love and Responsibility. Because our cultural problem is rampant irresponsible love in a lot of areas.
Feel free to comment. I personally think closed-mindedness is pretty annoying. And I know I'm not explaining much here.
Here are some things:
1. Long-term, committed, monogamous homosexual relationships
2. Birth control and human sterilization
People who morally object to the one but accept the other have some sorting out to do, I'm sorry to say. At best, it's just deeply unthinking. At worst, the dreaded h-word, hypocrisy. I think most of the people I know are just in the not-thought-through camp. So, it's time to think about it.
If chastity is just about enduring suffering or delayed gratification, if marriage is only about love, if sex is just for pleasure, if it's ok to disassemble normally functioning body systems like machine parts just for convenience, if fertility is an optional afterthought, then of course same-sex marriage is fine. And the only surprise that should be happening in our society right now is the surprise that it has taken so long for us to arrive here. And the "America needs to repent" finger-pointing at gay marriage is embarrassingly ridiculous.
For those of us who are more logical and morally object to both, let's please move on from complaining and fear-mongering. Maybe we could talk about how we can help, how we can love, how we can think of more helpful ideas for our homosexual friends and family.
For further reading of similarly unpopular opinions, see Wendell Berry's essay, "The Body and the Earth" or Karol Wojtyla's (JPII is a much catchier name) Love and Responsibility. Because our cultural problem is rampant irresponsible love in a lot of areas.
Feel free to comment. I personally think closed-mindedness is pretty annoying. And I know I'm not explaining much here.
Friday, October 24, 2014
How I became a patient in the maternity ward, and liked it, and even got a tour
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| My Life (almost) |
So, yeah, whatever, Sunday-Monday was pretty bad. I don't think my body absorbed any nourishment at all, despite my husband's heroic attempts to revive me. I've been feeling pretty weird these couple months anyway, so I just thought I had a bug in addition to the usual weirdness. Sadly, by the time I got to the ER I couldn't really sit in a chair anymore, but was sort of wallowing and gasping, all very unappealing. Happily, they hooked me up to an IV right away, and in the course of the night I absorbed 3.5 liters of fluid, wooo! Three and a half (!?).
A cool thing! I got my first ultrasound! They were looking for the appendix but couldn't see it. heehee. Little less space down there than usual. Matt and I did get to see little Lentil quite clearly, though! Little honeymoon souvenir is pretty amazing as always, just hanging out, flexing and moving limbs and probably having a party. I stopped writhing and gasping enough to say, ooooh!!! how amazing!!! how wonderful!!! look! 11 weeks along now. We could see a face and arm and quick little heart. Fun stuff.
Surgery is a weird experience, of course. Me to the doctor who left his house to come cure me in the middle of the night: "Oh wow, so, I'm having surgery tonight? Wow. Ok. Sure."
Me to the nurse: "I'm not really in that much pain, you don't have to give me anything, up to you."
Me to the nurse a minute later: "Wow, that stuff really works. I feel like I had a whole beer. How did you know I needed that? I think I can finally rest now." Then I slept for 3 hours in the ER bed. Well, kinda, I woke up each hour when the medicine wore off, just to throw up and get more medicine and go back to sleep. Poor Matthew just had to sit in the chair and pray.
In the operating room they asked me to tell my name, birthday, and what procedure they were doing all with that silly gas mask on. "My name is Mary Alisa, and it used to be Techentin like it says on my bracelet but really my name is Duchek because we got married. And my birthday is this, and I'm so relieved I'm not scared of this surgery, you see I've always been afraid of having a c-section, and afraid of operations, but now I realize..." But they interrupted me.
"Ok. We're not doing a c-section. This is an appendectomy You're going to sleep now." Dang, I didn't finish answering the too-easy questions.
"I'm not afraid. I trust you all. You're great. It's going to be fine."
"Yep, it's going to be fine, it's going to be fine." A chorus.
A moment later I woke up and felt better! It was amazing, instant relief! I kept telling the nurses how wonderful they were and how lovely their hospital is and they're really good at their jobs. I really wanted them to know how grateful I felt. I remember I even tried to cry with relief but it sounded too ugly so I quit.
They wheeled me into the Mom/Baby recovery room (was that chance? or irony? or intentional?) around 3:30 AM I guess and I waved at Matt and smiled and started rambling again about this amazing hospital where they fixed me instantly and the wonderful nurses and doctors and how they're all so good at their jobs. And I was sooooo happppyyyyyy.
This hospital room, though! Almost like a hotel room. By the way, this is the hospital where we'd most logically want to have baby. Wood floors, spacious, comfy furniture. And the entire North wall was just windows overlooking the gorgeous gorgeous foothills. I got to see the big night sky from my hospital bed. And the sunrise, and everything. Ah. lovely. And then I had a BREAKFAST SMORGASBORD! So exciting to someone who hasn't eaten in two days. But I'm always excited about breakfast even on normal days. And then a LUNCH SMORGASBORD. And Matthew finally got to sleep. It had been a couple sleepless nights, so I think he appreciated that.
My nurses were lovely and gave us a tour of the labor/delivery wing, too. Fits nicely with some ideas of birth plans in my imagination. So that's my story about how I learned to appreciate hospitals and IVs and not be scared of surgery and also many more useful things. And I'll NEVER HAVE APPENDICITIS AGAIN. THE END.
p.s. Matthew is taking good care of me and I'm fine and everyone's fine, thank you, and getting better every day, and yes I am resting all the time and continuously drinking water and also resting.
p.p.s. Thanks to Jennifer and Aurelia for the roses and sorbet and to Jessica for the yummy home-cooked dinner!!!
Monday, May 19, 2014
Small Victories
Children unexpectedly doing things right.
Babysitting. During lunch I mention that I love avocado. I think it's amazing. I let the kiddo try it. Later, mom sends me a text, "Thank you for getting [four-year-old daughter] to try avocado again! She has refused to eat it for a year. So random, but she said she loves it now"
Sweet. One small victory at a time.
A seven-year-old and I are doing math worksheets together outside, sitting on a trampoline. Because that's where we like to be, and so we can keep an eye on the baby chickens, of course, who are getting acclimated to the big outdoors where the only heat lamp is the sun. She's getting cranky, so I ask her if she wants to do one more page of addition or go eat a burrito (you see my food-is-good philosophy). She chooses math. What! Ok, cool.
Later, poor little four-year-old sister has been crying all afternoon and I'm in a mood to give her anything that will make her happy. She perks up and asks if I'll read her more Bible stories. Yeah, babe, you got it!
Loving work. Love, from Mary
Babysitting. During lunch I mention that I love avocado. I think it's amazing. I let the kiddo try it. Later, mom sends me a text, "Thank you for getting [four-year-old daughter] to try avocado again! She has refused to eat it for a year. So random, but she said she loves it now"
Sweet. One small victory at a time.
A seven-year-old and I are doing math worksheets together outside, sitting on a trampoline. Because that's where we like to be, and so we can keep an eye on the baby chickens, of course, who are getting acclimated to the big outdoors where the only heat lamp is the sun. She's getting cranky, so I ask her if she wants to do one more page of addition or go eat a burrito (you see my food-is-good philosophy). She chooses math. What! Ok, cool.
Later, poor little four-year-old sister has been crying all afternoon and I'm in a mood to give her anything that will make her happy. She perks up and asks if I'll read her more Bible stories. Yeah, babe, you got it!
Loving work. Love, from Mary
Friday, March 28, 2014
Annus Fidei - Year of Faith
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| First flowers of our Colorado mountain springtime. |
I became Catholic during a really cool time in the Church. Pope Benedict XVI announced a Year of Faith, saying, "reflection on the faith will have to be intensified, so as to help all believers in Christ to acquire a more conscious and vigorous adherence to the Gospel" (see the apostolic letter for the quote). I always thought that was really beautiful, so I spent the year meditating on that theme and specifically praying to God for more faith.
Easter is coming again (ooh, feel the electricity!), and I have been Catholic for nearly one year. I'd like to comment on that, and respond to some typical questions I've been hearing lately.
Like this one. "So, do you still hold on to some of your Protestant upbringing? Like, you haven't bought into everything, have you?"
Or simply, "how do you like it?"
Or even, "how do you feel about getting married in a Catholic Church?"
I looked back on what I said before I was Catholic, and I think I need to make a declaration now. I had doubts and disagreements with the Church, but they relaxed with the grace I experienced in the Sacraments. The Catholic understanding of the Sacraments as effective instruments of grace is real. I prayed about lots of issues (prayers to Saints, relationship with Mary, indulgences, the priesthood, the hierarchy, sexuality, apostolic succession, whatever is typical). It doesn't matter what, specifically, because I received the faith I asked for on every count. I am a believer. I love the Church. I am completely and totally committed to her. I made my choice willingly and I have no disagreements with her. I am Catholic on purpose.
I read the Catechism and I believe and support everything in it. Its explanation of Scripture, faith, and morals, are as rich as you can get. I read the Bible and it sounds Catholic (or sounds neutral sometimes).
My fiancé and I are going through lots of good Catholic marriage preparation and we are totally in concordance with the Church. We agree with the Church's understanding of marriage, and we are delighted and enthusiastic that we get to administer the Sacrament of Marriage to each other within a full Mass. Our excitement probably borders on annoying (sorry, people).
Mary. Is a great confirmation saint to me. I feel squeamish about a lot of folk practice of Marian devotion, as present in certain Latin American syncretism, for example. But, whatever. Official Church teaching about Mary is helpful, beautiful, and full of deep wisdom, even if it is intensely mysterious to me. My favorite devotional pictures and paintings feature Mary. I do occasionally pray to Mary.
"Do you still think you can pray right to God or do you think you have to go through a priest at confession and things like that?" Um, yes, and yes, and yes, of course. Do you know what I mean?
I used to wonder if I would regret this commitment. What angst! I didn't know the peace that was in store for me. Well, it's been a year, and I love what I've chosen better than ever and more all the time.
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
To Sanctify the Morning
Morning is like resurrection.
I love to wake up and say, I am alive! The silliness makes me smile. It's really fun. If you haven't before, you should try it.
Here's a recipe to make the morning sacred:
-Invitatory Psalm and Morning Prayer
-Yoga! The Sun Salutation is my favorite.
-Sunshine. Not required, but very nice. An open window is ideal.
So guess what I realized! DivineOffice.org actually has the Liturgy of the Hours in podcast form. This means you can just go to the website and click on Invitatory Pslam, then press Play. Then they sing it to you! This enables you to begin your yoga for some awesome meditation.
Then also listen to the Morning Prayer for the day and continue saluting the sun, or whatever you like. The Child's Pose is also a great prayer posture. Yoga lends itself quite beautifully to Christian Prayer.
I like this tip from DivineOffice.org: "Sacred Silence (indicated by a bell) – a moment to reflect and receive in our hearts the full resonance of the voice of the Holy Spirit and to unite our personal prayer more closely with the word of God and public voice of the Church." Ahh, yes. Let's.
So there you go. This is what I've been practicing lately, and it's a wonderful way to start the day. It's a short liturgy, but it makes me feel like I have plenty of time to breathe, and ample space in life to live with joy. So yeah, enjoy!
I love to wake up and say, I am alive! The silliness makes me smile. It's really fun. If you haven't before, you should try it.
Here's a recipe to make the morning sacred:
-Invitatory Psalm and Morning Prayer
-Yoga! The Sun Salutation is my favorite.
-Sunshine. Not required, but very nice. An open window is ideal.
So guess what I realized! DivineOffice.org actually has the Liturgy of the Hours in podcast form. This means you can just go to the website and click on Invitatory Pslam, then press Play. Then they sing it to you! This enables you to begin your yoga for some awesome meditation.
Then also listen to the Morning Prayer for the day and continue saluting the sun, or whatever you like. The Child's Pose is also a great prayer posture. Yoga lends itself quite beautifully to Christian Prayer.
I like this tip from DivineOffice.org: "Sacred Silence (indicated by a bell) – a moment to reflect and receive in our hearts the full resonance of the voice of the Holy Spirit and to unite our personal prayer more closely with the word of God and public voice of the Church." Ahh, yes. Let's.
So there you go. This is what I've been practicing lately, and it's a wonderful way to start the day. It's a short liturgy, but it makes me feel like I have plenty of time to breathe, and ample space in life to live with joy. So yeah, enjoy!
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| Islesboro sunrise from my bedroom window. A holy event. |
Monday, June 10, 2013
Corpus Christi
Last week was the Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ (aka
Corpus Christi).
Mass was even more awesome than usual.
It was a lovely, sunny Sunday, so my man and I rode our bikes to church. It's actually not hard to carry on a conversation one the bike path. On the way home, it went something like this:
"Did you know that lots of Baptist churches only have communion like once a month?"
"Woah. Crazy. But what if you miss it?" Matt wondered. I shrugged dramatically.
"I dunno. I guess it doesn't mean too much."
"Then why do they do it?" Matt asked.
"Psh, Jesus said to do it. He just didn't say how frequently."
"But don't they want to be like the early Church? They had communion every day. And what about that verse in Acts about how the Christians devoted themselves to the breaking of bread?"
"Wow, a Catholic is quoting the Bible at me!" Pardon my sassiness throughout this exchange! But it got me thinking...
The Real Presence! Why didn't I believe in it before? I suppose I didn't think about it much because I wasn't taught about it in church. Now it's such an essential concept to me I don't remember why I didn't believe in it, and I don't quite see why it's offensive or objectionable. Actually, I'm wondering where Zwingli and Karlstadt got the idea to argue against it, and why Luther couldn't persuade them to keep their faith. But even if they were voicing valid concerns, it seems to me like this argument is about 500 years out-of-date. Anyhow, I think the Catholic understanding of the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist is definitely the most compatible with scripture.
I now read the Bible and see it as a Catholic book. It's amazing how frequently I see Eucharistic themes nowadays (and not just in the Bible... now singing hymns about the blood of Jesus really blows my mind. I can't help but think of drinking the wine). But anyhow, some of the most interesting Old Testament precursors are Melchizedek offering bread and wine in Genesis 14, God providing supernatural bread in the form of Mannah, the priests offering the Bread of the Presence on the golden table in the temple (sounds so much like Mass!), and of course the Passover tradition, which I think is what most people associate with communion. I've never realized the depth of the Old Testament precursors of the Eucharist, but they're surprisingly plentiful. A knowledgeable friend lent me a book called Jesus and the Jewish Roots of the Eucharist by Brant Pitre. It's just fascinating, and I highly recommend it. One of the most exciting things is learning how closely the Mass follows the Jewish traditions surrounding the Bread of the Presence in the temple.
As for the New Testament... I love the Bread of Life sermon in John 6. I'm realizing that even Jesus feeding the five thousand in Luke 9 has deep Eucharistic themes (interestingly, this was the gospel reading in church for Corpus Christi. I learned a lot about the reason why from Father Peter's podcast). And of course, 1 Corinthians 11:24-ish is the most obvious statement of our beliefs. My point is that I think the New Testament passages make most sense taken at their word, so to speak.
But the most powerful influence on my thinking has simply been experiencing the Mass as a Catholic. I mean the sheer joy of it. Now that I get to participate in full communion, I completely understand why we call it Eucharist, or thanksgiving. Gone are the days of my trepidation, when I stared transfixed, overwhelmed with solemnity at "Behold, the Lamb of God." And I'm not intimidated any more by the immense gravity of walking forward towards the host. It does feel strange that I don't have a routine yet (I mess up! I forget what to do!), but the experience is mainly joyful. It fills my life with grace and I'm overwhelmed with gratitude to God.
It's an awesome thing. I actually mean that. I'm not using hyperbole. AWESOME.
It was a lovely, sunny Sunday, so my man and I rode our bikes to church. It's actually not hard to carry on a conversation one the bike path. On the way home, it went something like this:
"Did you know that lots of Baptist churches only have communion like once a month?"
"Woah. Crazy. But what if you miss it?" Matt wondered. I shrugged dramatically.
"I dunno. I guess it doesn't mean too much."
"Then why do they do it?" Matt asked.
"Psh, Jesus said to do it. He just didn't say how frequently."
"But don't they want to be like the early Church? They had communion every day. And what about that verse in Acts about how the Christians devoted themselves to the breaking of bread?"
"Wow, a Catholic is quoting the Bible at me!" Pardon my sassiness throughout this exchange! But it got me thinking...
The Real Presence! Why didn't I believe in it before? I suppose I didn't think about it much because I wasn't taught about it in church. Now it's such an essential concept to me I don't remember why I didn't believe in it, and I don't quite see why it's offensive or objectionable. Actually, I'm wondering where Zwingli and Karlstadt got the idea to argue against it, and why Luther couldn't persuade them to keep their faith. But even if they were voicing valid concerns, it seems to me like this argument is about 500 years out-of-date. Anyhow, I think the Catholic understanding of the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist is definitely the most compatible with scripture.
I now read the Bible and see it as a Catholic book. It's amazing how frequently I see Eucharistic themes nowadays (and not just in the Bible... now singing hymns about the blood of Jesus really blows my mind. I can't help but think of drinking the wine). But anyhow, some of the most interesting Old Testament precursors are Melchizedek offering bread and wine in Genesis 14, God providing supernatural bread in the form of Mannah, the priests offering the Bread of the Presence on the golden table in the temple (sounds so much like Mass!), and of course the Passover tradition, which I think is what most people associate with communion. I've never realized the depth of the Old Testament precursors of the Eucharist, but they're surprisingly plentiful. A knowledgeable friend lent me a book called Jesus and the Jewish Roots of the Eucharist by Brant Pitre. It's just fascinating, and I highly recommend it. One of the most exciting things is learning how closely the Mass follows the Jewish traditions surrounding the Bread of the Presence in the temple.
As for the New Testament... I love the Bread of Life sermon in John 6. I'm realizing that even Jesus feeding the five thousand in Luke 9 has deep Eucharistic themes (interestingly, this was the gospel reading in church for Corpus Christi. I learned a lot about the reason why from Father Peter's podcast). And of course, 1 Corinthians 11:24-ish is the most obvious statement of our beliefs. My point is that I think the New Testament passages make most sense taken at their word, so to speak.
But the most powerful influence on my thinking has simply been experiencing the Mass as a Catholic. I mean the sheer joy of it. Now that I get to participate in full communion, I completely understand why we call it Eucharist, or thanksgiving. Gone are the days of my trepidation, when I stared transfixed, overwhelmed with solemnity at "Behold, the Lamb of God." And I'm not intimidated any more by the immense gravity of walking forward towards the host. It does feel strange that I don't have a routine yet (I mess up! I forget what to do!), but the experience is mainly joyful. It fills my life with grace and I'm overwhelmed with gratitude to God.
It's an awesome thing. I actually mean that. I'm not using hyperbole. AWESOME.
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
Mary
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| Annunciation, Fra Angelico. Museo Diocesano, Cortona |
Now don't get me wrong, here. Mary is the saint I admire most. Mary is my confirmation name. I take the Annunciation and Magnificat very personally, rather like life-callings. In my room I have images of the Coronation of the Virgin, two cool rosaries, a hispanical Virgen de Guadalupe candle, and books of images of the Annunciation, with lots of my own doodles of them, too. A section of my thesis covered Spanish renditions of the Immaculate Conception, because I appreciate how awesome the paintings are.
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| The Coronation of the Virgin, Ambrogio Bergognone |
Mary's the best, really. Who knows, maybe she never sinned. I don't really have a strongly entrenched opinion on that, or on any of the weird (i.e different from Protestant) Marian dogmas of the Church. I've abandoned the hostile skepticism of my younger days because I find it too acidic and ungodly.
Yet I don't pray to Mary. This is because I am having difficulty with the concept of the intercession of the saints. The dead ones, I mean. I would totally ask Mary to pray for me if she were still alive and having a conversation with me. That's what praying to the saints means, by the way, for my non-Catholic friends. And I do rely on the intercession of my fellow Christians! The ones who haven't yet "fallen asleep," to use Jesus' phrase.
The Confiteor prayer contains the only place in the Mass where I don't participate. Can you guess where?
- I confess to almighty God
- and to you, my brothers and sisters,
- that I have greatly sinned,
- in my thoughts and in my words,
- in what I have done and in what I have failed to do,
- through my fault, through my fault,
- through my most grievous fault;
- therefore I ask blessed Mary ever-Virgin,
- all the Angels and Saints,
- and you, my brothers and sisters,
- to pray for me to the Lord our God.
So, in summary... Mary is worthy of veneration and reverence, respect, meditation, and lots of awesome devotional art. I love that the best example in the Bible of godliness, belief, and purity is feminine. I love how her prominence in Christianity affirms the goodness and dignity of womanhood and motherhood. The Magnificat is glorious and we should all memorize it and use it in daily prayer. I love to hear my loved ones call me Mary, because I want to be like her. But I still can't pray to Mary because I don't think the deceased are conscious of our petitions or thoughts. This is a work in progress.
Love,
Mary
Monday, April 1, 2013
Easter Monday
"I regard it as absurd and unjustifiable that we should spend forty days keeping Lent, pondering what it means, preaching about self-denial... bringing it all to a peak with Holy Week, which in turn climaxes in Maundy Thursday and Good Friday . . . and then, after a rather odd Holy Saturday, we have a single day of celebration...
"Easter week itself ought to be an eight-day festival, with champagne served after morning prayer or even before, with lots of alleluias and extra hymns and spectacular anthems. Is it any wonder people find it hard to believe in the resurrection of Jesus if we don't throw our hats in the air?... It's long overdue that we took a hard look at how we keep Easter in church, at home, in our personal lives, right through the system. And if it means rethinking some cherished habits, well, maybe it's time to wake up...
"And while we're about it, we might write some more good Easter hymns and take care to choose the many good ones already written that celebrate what Easter really is rather than treating it as simply our ticket to a blissful life hereafter... We should be taking steps to celebrate Easter in creative new ways: in art, literature, children's games, poetry, music, dance, festivals, bells, special concerts, anything that comes to mind. This is our greatest festival.
"Take Christmas away, and in biblical terms you lose two chapters at the front of Matthew and Luke, nothing else. Take Easter away, and you don't have a New Testament; you don't have a Christianity; as Paul says, you are still in your sins. We shouldn't allow the secular world, with its parareligious events and its cute Easter bunnies to blow us off course. This is our greatest day. We should put the flags out.
"If Lent is a time to give things up, Easter ought to be a time to take things up. Champagne for breakfast again- well, of course. Christian holiness was never meant to be merely negative. Of course you have to weed the garden from time to time; sometimes the ground ivy may need serious digging before you can get it out. That's Lent for you. But you don't want simply to turn the garden back into a neat bed of blank earth. Easter is the time to sow new seeds and to plant out a few cuttings... Easter should mean planting, watering, and training up things in your life (personal and corporate) that ought to be blossoming, filling the garden with color and perfume, and in due course bearing fruit."
N. T. Wright, Surprised by Hope. Chapter 15 Introduction: Celebrating Easter.
Some food for thought. Holy Week and the Triduum were really intense and serious for me. So I am delighted to say that my friends and I actually did spend Easter gardening in the warm sunshine, sipping wine, cooking lamb, singing songs, and going to big feasts. Friends and family, you are lovely.
I'm also delighted to say that my Confirmation and First Communion are on Easter Friday. I've been waiting a long time!
Spring is exciting. Easter is exciting. Life is exciting.
"Easter week itself ought to be an eight-day festival, with champagne served after morning prayer or even before, with lots of alleluias and extra hymns and spectacular anthems. Is it any wonder people find it hard to believe in the resurrection of Jesus if we don't throw our hats in the air?... It's long overdue that we took a hard look at how we keep Easter in church, at home, in our personal lives, right through the system. And if it means rethinking some cherished habits, well, maybe it's time to wake up...
"And while we're about it, we might write some more good Easter hymns and take care to choose the many good ones already written that celebrate what Easter really is rather than treating it as simply our ticket to a blissful life hereafter... We should be taking steps to celebrate Easter in creative new ways: in art, literature, children's games, poetry, music, dance, festivals, bells, special concerts, anything that comes to mind. This is our greatest festival.
"Take Christmas away, and in biblical terms you lose two chapters at the front of Matthew and Luke, nothing else. Take Easter away, and you don't have a New Testament; you don't have a Christianity; as Paul says, you are still in your sins. We shouldn't allow the secular world, with its parareligious events and its cute Easter bunnies to blow us off course. This is our greatest day. We should put the flags out.
"If Lent is a time to give things up, Easter ought to be a time to take things up. Champagne for breakfast again- well, of course. Christian holiness was never meant to be merely negative. Of course you have to weed the garden from time to time; sometimes the ground ivy may need serious digging before you can get it out. That's Lent for you. But you don't want simply to turn the garden back into a neat bed of blank earth. Easter is the time to sow new seeds and to plant out a few cuttings... Easter should mean planting, watering, and training up things in your life (personal and corporate) that ought to be blossoming, filling the garden with color and perfume, and in due course bearing fruit."
N. T. Wright, Surprised by Hope. Chapter 15 Introduction: Celebrating Easter.
Some food for thought. Holy Week and the Triduum were really intense and serious for me. So I am delighted to say that my friends and I actually did spend Easter gardening in the warm sunshine, sipping wine, cooking lamb, singing songs, and going to big feasts. Friends and family, you are lovely.
I'm also delighted to say that my Confirmation and First Communion are on Easter Friday. I've been waiting a long time!
Spring is exciting. Easter is exciting. Life is exciting.
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Thoughts on First Confession
Today I received the Sacrament of Reconciliation for the first time. I have to testify that it's a lovely experience.
First, I follow the Catechism's recommendation for a good examination of conscience. I love the emphasis on praying through certain passages of scripture to reflect on what you need to confess:
CCC 1454 "...prepared for by an examination of conscience made in the light of the Word of God. The passages best suited to this can be found in the Ten Commandments, the moral catechesis of the Gospels and the apostolic Letters, such as the Sermon on the Mount and the apostolic teachings.53"
53 Cf. Mt 5-7; Rom 12-15; 1 Cor 12-13; Gal 5; Eph 4-6; etc.
The actual confession seems hard, but the priest is compassionate and quiet. He looks like Jesus, actually. He is not in a hurry (normally priests are so busy!). He knows me, my name and my long journey here. He listens, mostly, and then answers with wise words. He prays silently before he says a penance (mine involves meditation on some particular parts of Scripture). He says absolution, prays for me, and makes the sign of the cross with me. We smile: he with kindness and I with gratitude. I walk away light with joy.
You know, it always seemed suspicious to me to think that the Sacraments are so effective at dispensing grace. We can't put the Holy Spirit in a box, right? It's supposed to be spontaneous and experiential, right? We sense great movements of God with our emotions, right?
Yes, certainly. But I am learning that, somehow, the Sacraments really do have the effect of pouring out grace on us and renewing us in the Holy Spirit. Every time. Even if the people involved (congregation and priests) are distracted or in a bad mood or not pure in their intentions. It's amazing.
Just a musing. Confirmation is a beautiful process. I submit that it may be the most profound way to participate in the season of Lent. As a Candidate (an already-Baptized Christian), I will receive the other Sacraments of Initiation a few days after Easter (Confirmation! Eucharist!). So I don't get to participate at Easter, but I will just get to appreciate the Vigil from the audience. But I'm looking forward to the Triduum. I can hardly wait!
First, I follow the Catechism's recommendation for a good examination of conscience. I love the emphasis on praying through certain passages of scripture to reflect on what you need to confess:
CCC 1454 "...prepared for by an examination of conscience made in the light of the Word of God. The passages best suited to this can be found in the Ten Commandments, the moral catechesis of the Gospels and the apostolic Letters, such as the Sermon on the Mount and the apostolic teachings.53"
53 Cf. Mt 5-7; Rom 12-15; 1 Cor 12-13; Gal 5; Eph 4-6; etc.
The actual confession seems hard, but the priest is compassionate and quiet. He looks like Jesus, actually. He is not in a hurry (normally priests are so busy!). He knows me, my name and my long journey here. He listens, mostly, and then answers with wise words. He prays silently before he says a penance (mine involves meditation on some particular parts of Scripture). He says absolution, prays for me, and makes the sign of the cross with me. We smile: he with kindness and I with gratitude. I walk away light with joy.
You know, it always seemed suspicious to me to think that the Sacraments are so effective at dispensing grace. We can't put the Holy Spirit in a box, right? It's supposed to be spontaneous and experiential, right? We sense great movements of God with our emotions, right?
Yes, certainly. But I am learning that, somehow, the Sacraments really do have the effect of pouring out grace on us and renewing us in the Holy Spirit. Every time. Even if the people involved (congregation and priests) are distracted or in a bad mood or not pure in their intentions. It's amazing.
Just a musing. Confirmation is a beautiful process. I submit that it may be the most profound way to participate in the season of Lent. As a Candidate (an already-Baptized Christian), I will receive the other Sacraments of Initiation a few days after Easter (Confirmation! Eucharist!). So I don't get to participate at Easter, but I will just get to appreciate the Vigil from the audience. But I'm looking forward to the Triduum. I can hardly wait!
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| The Return of the Prodigal Son |
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Baptize the Babies!
This is the story of how I changed my ideas about Baptism, and it will probably be most interesting to Baptist readers. Sorry in advance to my parents for the contrary things I'm about to write. This issue really alarmed me when I first changed my mind, but in recent conversations with friends I've realized that the Catholic value of Baptism doesn't seem nearly so radical to a lot of Christians as it did to me. You see, I started reading the Catechism as a fresh graduate of a Southern Baptist university, having attended Southern Baptist churches for seven years.
So, I was baptized twice. So were all my siblings, though none of us as infants (sorry, Christina, you two weren't either, otherwise I suppose you could each count three baptisms). We each had a baby dedication, too. Now really, this doesn't make much sense. I don't regret this, but I think it actually belittles the meaning and the effect of the Sacrament of Baptism.
I've always heard that baptism doesn't actually "save" you (I recall my family leaving the church of my childhood and citing an "incorrect" teaching on this as one of the reasons) and that it's essential for a person to experience it when they're old enough to understand what's going on. And when we moved to the South, I often heard preached that it actually has to be baptism by immersion in a pool of water for it to count. So, none of that sprinkling crap. I obviously needed to be baptized again, this time the right way. So my brother and I got baptized together by immersion in Tennessee in 2007, and it was really cool and I liked it.
So it kinda blew my mind to realize that "real Christians" who were sincere about their faith (i.e. my new friends) could be content with baby baptism. My good man was very patient with my outbursts of skepticism and incredulity while I processed this. How could they treat their children's salvation so thoughtlessly? I wondered. The problems of nominalism arise when people claim to be Catholic because they were baptized as infants but they really aren't believers and aren't living holy lives at all. That's a valid concern.
However. I did change my mind on this, for several good reasons.
Firstly, the types of good Christian parents I know always agree that it's important to have some sort of rite of dedication of a new child to God. I think this is so important that I'd like it to be an official Sacrament. Regarding salvation... God saves people by grace. A Sacrament is an outward sign of an inward reality. Sacraments actually have an effect, and they're an important way that God gives grace to us. That's why 1 Peter 3:21 is true: "Baptism, which corresponds to this, now saves you, not as a removal of dirt from the body but as an appeal to God for a good conscience, through the resurrection of Jesus Christ" (ESV).
One nice thing is that the Catholic Church acknowledges the reality of my baptism (one or the other, I suppose). Which is interesting, since the Southern Baptist church that baptized me thought that it was "just a symbol" and wasn't doing a bit of good to "save" me.
Another thing that changed my mind is simply an analogy. Before Jesus established the New Covenant, God's people showed that they belonged to him by circumcising themselves and their children. Their babies. At eight days old, actually, so it sounds like most people didn't have much choice in the matter. Then baptism replaced the circumcision of the Old Covenant. 1 Colossians 2:11-12 says, "In him also you were circumcised with a circumcision made without hands, by putting off the body of the flesh, by the circumcision of Christ, having been buried with him in baptism, in which you were also raised with him through faith in the powerful working of God, who raised him from the dead."
Infant baptism makes a lot more sense to me in this light. If it was right and good for the Israelites to circumcise their infants, I can see how it would be right and good to baptize them now, even if they don't understand what's going on.
Actually, about that... I'd just like to say that I still don't understand the full significance of my baptism. I learn more about it all the time as the Holy Spirit awakens me to new meanings of it. So, I understand it a lot more now than I did when I was immersed at age eighteen, and exponentially more than when I got sprinkled at age nine. So, should I get baptized again because it is more meaningful now? Definitely not. Because baptism actually does something. It matters.
As a side note, I do think it's lovely to have a Sacrament that the Christian chooses only after the appropriate "age of reason," and Confirmation seems like an excellent venue for that all-important "public profession" that the Baptists celebrate with their immersions. It's important to acknowledge some sort of initiation to Christianity when people begin to understand their religion and take it to heart. And yes, believer's baptism is important and worthy of celebration.
Anyhow, the Church claims that infant baptism was the norm from the Acts of the Apostles up until the Reformation. There's good reason to believe that when "entire households" were baptized, that included children and infants (e.g. Acts 16:15, 1 Corinthians 1:16). Though I think historical evidence of this custom surfaces in the second century at the earliest. Still, that's pretty early, y'all.
The Catholic Rite of Baptism is very beautiful and full of scriptural analogies. It's even better than the best baby dedication. If you're curious, you can read it here.
I'll conclude with this neat image of Mary and Joseph presenting baby Jesus at the Temple (Luke 2:21)
So, I was baptized twice. So were all my siblings, though none of us as infants (sorry, Christina, you two weren't either, otherwise I suppose you could each count three baptisms). We each had a baby dedication, too. Now really, this doesn't make much sense. I don't regret this, but I think it actually belittles the meaning and the effect of the Sacrament of Baptism.
I've always heard that baptism doesn't actually "save" you (I recall my family leaving the church of my childhood and citing an "incorrect" teaching on this as one of the reasons) and that it's essential for a person to experience it when they're old enough to understand what's going on. And when we moved to the South, I often heard preached that it actually has to be baptism by immersion in a pool of water for it to count. So, none of that sprinkling crap. I obviously needed to be baptized again, this time the right way. So my brother and I got baptized together by immersion in Tennessee in 2007, and it was really cool and I liked it.
So it kinda blew my mind to realize that "real Christians" who were sincere about their faith (i.e. my new friends) could be content with baby baptism. My good man was very patient with my outbursts of skepticism and incredulity while I processed this. How could they treat their children's salvation so thoughtlessly? I wondered. The problems of nominalism arise when people claim to be Catholic because they were baptized as infants but they really aren't believers and aren't living holy lives at all. That's a valid concern.
However. I did change my mind on this, for several good reasons.
Firstly, the types of good Christian parents I know always agree that it's important to have some sort of rite of dedication of a new child to God. I think this is so important that I'd like it to be an official Sacrament. Regarding salvation... God saves people by grace. A Sacrament is an outward sign of an inward reality. Sacraments actually have an effect, and they're an important way that God gives grace to us. That's why 1 Peter 3:21 is true: "Baptism, which corresponds to this, now saves you, not as a removal of dirt from the body but as an appeal to God for a good conscience, through the resurrection of Jesus Christ" (ESV).
One nice thing is that the Catholic Church acknowledges the reality of my baptism (one or the other, I suppose). Which is interesting, since the Southern Baptist church that baptized me thought that it was "just a symbol" and wasn't doing a bit of good to "save" me.
Another thing that changed my mind is simply an analogy. Before Jesus established the New Covenant, God's people showed that they belonged to him by circumcising themselves and their children. Their babies. At eight days old, actually, so it sounds like most people didn't have much choice in the matter. Then baptism replaced the circumcision of the Old Covenant. 1 Colossians 2:11-12 says, "In him also you were circumcised with a circumcision made without hands, by putting off the body of the flesh, by the circumcision of Christ, having been buried with him in baptism, in which you were also raised with him through faith in the powerful working of God, who raised him from the dead."
Infant baptism makes a lot more sense to me in this light. If it was right and good for the Israelites to circumcise their infants, I can see how it would be right and good to baptize them now, even if they don't understand what's going on.
Actually, about that... I'd just like to say that I still don't understand the full significance of my baptism. I learn more about it all the time as the Holy Spirit awakens me to new meanings of it. So, I understand it a lot more now than I did when I was immersed at age eighteen, and exponentially more than when I got sprinkled at age nine. So, should I get baptized again because it is more meaningful now? Definitely not. Because baptism actually does something. It matters.
As a side note, I do think it's lovely to have a Sacrament that the Christian chooses only after the appropriate "age of reason," and Confirmation seems like an excellent venue for that all-important "public profession" that the Baptists celebrate with their immersions. It's important to acknowledge some sort of initiation to Christianity when people begin to understand their religion and take it to heart. And yes, believer's baptism is important and worthy of celebration.
Anyhow, the Church claims that infant baptism was the norm from the Acts of the Apostles up until the Reformation. There's good reason to believe that when "entire households" were baptized, that included children and infants (e.g. Acts 16:15, 1 Corinthians 1:16). Though I think historical evidence of this custom surfaces in the second century at the earliest. Still, that's pretty early, y'all.
The Catholic Rite of Baptism is very beautiful and full of scriptural analogies. It's even better than the best baby dedication. If you're curious, you can read it here.
I'll conclude with this neat image of Mary and Joseph presenting baby Jesus at the Temple (Luke 2:21)
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| Presentation of Christ at the Temple, Giotto di Bondone |
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Becoming Catholic: Objections
Becoming Catholic comes up in conversation with me regularly. I get a lot of objections to this, and some of them are really valid. This week has reminded me of the Things I Don't Like... things that deserve discussion, concern, and our earnest prayers for the Church.
Obviously, there are lots of things that typical evangelicals object to that I enthusiastically defend. I'm down with the Catholic Sacraments (I can discuss later why I believe in the Real Presence, approve infant baptism and value confession and penance). I am not bothered by the Eucharistic rather than literary focus of the Mass. I do disapprove of certain aspects of Catholic teaching (e.g purgatory, intercession of dead saints, the political supremacy of the Bishop of Rome) and I am a bit irritated and concerned about certain Catholic practices (e.g excessive Marian devotion, excessive dependence on physical relics and such, the fact that it's so darn difficult to find a good Bible study, you know). However, I really only have one serious objection at this point, and it has to do with ecclesiastical exclusivity. I think it's wrong to teach that the Catholic Church alone enjoys the legacy of legitimate apostolic succession (an unbroken line of leadership and tradition going back to the apostles). And above all I think it's wrong to deny fellow Christians communion. Really wrong.
But the wrong here is on both sides of the schism. I do believe that the Church is right and good. I want to see unity restored to the Body of Christ. I don't know what to demand that the Catholic Church do better when many Protestants are unwilling to place themselves in the timeline of church history and think about how their Christian religion has been handed down to them from the church fathers. Some even consider the Church to be a corrupt (or worse, apostate) institution. How can I want the Catholic Church to speak with inclusion about people who don't want to be included? Well, this frustrates me.
I understand not sharing the Eucharist with those who deny the Real Presence of Christ in the host. That makes sense, I hate to admit, and this points to a familiar theme in ecumenical dialogue where disagreements perpetuate the rift and resolution seems millenia away. I see it like this: Catholics won't invite Protestants to the table, and most of them don't want to come anyway.
In all this, I am encouraged by the Catechism of the Catholic Church:
"The Church is One."
817 "In subsequent centuries serious dissensions appeared and large communities became separated from full communion with the Catholic Church - for which, often enough, men of both sides were to blame." The ruptures that wound the unity of Christ's Body... do not occur without human sin.
818 "However, one cannot charge with the sin of the separation those who at present are born into these communities and in them are brought up in the faith of Christ, and the Catholic Church accepts them with respect and affection as brothers... They have a right to be called Christians, and with good reason are accepted as brothers in the Lord by the children of the Catholic Church."
820 The Church must always pray and work to maintain, reinforce, and perfect the unity that Christ wills for her. That is why Jesus himself prayed at the hour of his Passion, and does not cease praying to his Father, for the unity of his disciples: "That they may all be one. As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be one in us... so that the world may know that you have sent me."
Notes:
I omitted footnotes and cross references. Please refer to the full text here.
Regarding communion, I am aware that I am not addressing Orthodox or certain Anglican groups, and that they provide notable and interesting exceptions.
The icon above shows Constantine and the Fathers of the First Council of Nicaea holding the Nicene Creed of 381. This discussion comes from the Four Marks of the Church specified in the creed. I also like the undeniably Catholic flavor of the statement of orthodoxy that unites all Christians.
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Holding onto the Good
Hi there. Post about my journey to Catholicism #2.
I'd like to affirm openly that I am becoming Catholic even after having had many great experiences in my evangelical Christian upbringing, and that this move should not be interpreted as a reaction against previous churches or as a gesture of disgust. Through this process of attraction to Catholicism, I have realized that I want to spend my life working for ecumenism. I know that I can only join the Church if it is for the cause of the unity of the body of Christ and for the sake of ushering in his Kingdom. I'm not sure how this works out exactly, and I've never been comfortable labeling my religion with anything other than "Christian." But I know what is right, and I know that this is what I need to do. And I think I will probably care this passionately about ecumenism for the rest of my life.
I have moved around too much, and perhaps the hardest thing about each relocation is leaving behind a church community (especially when leaving Madrid, my island in Maine, and the community in Jackson, TN). I feel the separations keenly and with deep regret.
Each church has its particular weak places and things I wish were better. But I am not turning to Catholicism out of any bitterness or any particularly negative experiences with Protestantism. I love the tradition that raised me. I appreciate the good training I've received: the familiarity with the Bible gained from 8 years in a Reformed school and 4 years at Union University, the freedom of expressive worship that I've always known, the comfort and familiarity with movements of the Holy Spirit, my mentors (none were Catholic), my Baptist people, all of you. The evangelical expression of the Christian faith that I've known is vibrant and exciting and quite healthy.
It's just that I spent some time with a more beautiful liturgy, and the mystery and the beauty of it stuns me and enthralls me and keeps me coming back. I'm amazed. It's that good.
This brings me to the subject of traditions: all Christians have them. Some traditions (habits, rituals, liturgies) are better than others. If I'm going to have liturgy, (and really, everyone does, even if the liturgy is very casual or involves continually changing the expression of worship) I have realized that I really prefer thoughtful, well-developed, time-tested, orthodox, deep stuff. I like using the Liturgy of the Hours and knowing that Christians have been thinking about the words and developing them for centuries. I like liturgical practices that have marinated in the best Christian thought and endured the test of time. I know that most Catholic traditions have made their way to me via many more intelligent, more serious, more experienced, more dedicated and scholarly Christians than myself.
I love to explore the inexhaustibly profound intricacies of the Mass and know that there will always be more to find out.
Christianity is really cool.
May we all grow to understand and love one another more, in the unity of the Holy Spirit.
I'd like to affirm openly that I am becoming Catholic even after having had many great experiences in my evangelical Christian upbringing, and that this move should not be interpreted as a reaction against previous churches or as a gesture of disgust. Through this process of attraction to Catholicism, I have realized that I want to spend my life working for ecumenism. I know that I can only join the Church if it is for the cause of the unity of the body of Christ and for the sake of ushering in his Kingdom. I'm not sure how this works out exactly, and I've never been comfortable labeling my religion with anything other than "Christian." But I know what is right, and I know that this is what I need to do. And I think I will probably care this passionately about ecumenism for the rest of my life.
I have moved around too much, and perhaps the hardest thing about each relocation is leaving behind a church community (especially when leaving Madrid, my island in Maine, and the community in Jackson, TN). I feel the separations keenly and with deep regret.
Each church has its particular weak places and things I wish were better. But I am not turning to Catholicism out of any bitterness or any particularly negative experiences with Protestantism. I love the tradition that raised me. I appreciate the good training I've received: the familiarity with the Bible gained from 8 years in a Reformed school and 4 years at Union University, the freedom of expressive worship that I've always known, the comfort and familiarity with movements of the Holy Spirit, my mentors (none were Catholic), my Baptist people, all of you. The evangelical expression of the Christian faith that I've known is vibrant and exciting and quite healthy.
It's just that I spent some time with a more beautiful liturgy, and the mystery and the beauty of it stuns me and enthralls me and keeps me coming back. I'm amazed. It's that good.
This brings me to the subject of traditions: all Christians have them. Some traditions (habits, rituals, liturgies) are better than others. If I'm going to have liturgy, (and really, everyone does, even if the liturgy is very casual or involves continually changing the expression of worship) I have realized that I really prefer thoughtful, well-developed, time-tested, orthodox, deep stuff. I like using the Liturgy of the Hours and knowing that Christians have been thinking about the words and developing them for centuries. I like liturgical practices that have marinated in the best Christian thought and endured the test of time. I know that most Catholic traditions have made their way to me via many more intelligent, more serious, more experienced, more dedicated and scholarly Christians than myself.
I love to explore the inexhaustibly profound intricacies of the Mass and know that there will always be more to find out.
Christianity is really cool.
May we all grow to understand and love one another more, in the unity of the Holy Spirit.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Dear friends, I am becoming Catholic.
I am becoming Catholic, and you deserve an explanation.
Since I moved to Colorado (literally, since my first Sunday) I have been attending Mass and falling in love with the Church. I am overwhelmed by beauty, delighted by liturgy, transfixed by sacraments, fascinated by mystery, comforted by orthodoxy. I attended confirmation classes, studied the Cathechism, and did a lot of reading. I talked with a lot of people: the priests, the Catholic friends I met, many friends who aren't Catholic but love me and love church unity, too. And with deeply concerned, disapproving Protestants. I talk with my brother. And I talk with a thoughtful, patient, sincere man named Matthew. But that's another story. This is about how I love the Catholic Church, not just about how I love him.
In my first month in Boulder, I found myself dating a Catholic, and I told him upfront that I would never, ever become Catholic (so deal with it!).
In my third month here I joined RCIA (Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults, confirmation class), not to join the Church, of course, because I was never going to do that. But just to learn more, meet more people at my new "home church," and have interesting conversations. I also wanted to get the lowdown on why I couldn't take Communion.
By Spring I was pretty distraught over being denied Communion with my community. Every week, every Mass. It gets real old. Except for that, I had decided that the Catholic Church was pretty wonderful, and thought it was too bad that wasn't part of my identity. We are tribal when it comes to religious expression. My people are not high-church people.
Summertime 2012 I decided to rejoin RCIA for my second year in Boulder, and at least pretend that this time I would really go through with confirmation. I secretly thought that probably I would still find some way out, and not have to commit to Catholicism for the rest of my life. I don't know. I balk at the totality of the commitment.
On the second of December 2012, the Church welcomed me in the Rite of Acceptance as a candidate for confirmation, and I am officially on my way to First Communion this Easter. And I'm excited. Deeply. I can't wait.
How did this happen? How do I discern this despite my objections and doubts? What are my reasons?
It has been a long journey. It's convenient to refer to my time studying Catholic art in Spain and cite my Honors Program Thesis: an enthusiastic celebration of the strong tradition of Catholic art, why the Reformers were wrong, and how Protestants need to learn from the Catholic tradition. And it's easy to refer to my pilgrimage to Rome in my third year of college, my unexpected and life-changing encounter with holiness at a candlelight Mass at Trinità dei Monti for Easter Vigil, my joyful Easter at the Vatican, my obsession with Christian art and history. (I mean, I just reread the other blog posts here, and I'm surprised how consistently I was inspired by Catholic Stuff). But the journey has come a long way since then, and my enthusiasm has only grown. Familiarity fostered love.
My doubts are many. I agonize over this, I do.
I'm a bit terrified.
I'm very, very serious. Brow furrowed, nose in books, snapping questions, praying agonized prayers. Absolutely overawed during Mass, holding my breath for reverence. Feeling foreign, feeling alien, feeling disturbed, feeling actual hostility toward some of the things I call "Catholic Crap," feeling clumsy, feeling humbled. Asking myself, will I regret this? to the point of tears. Knowing that I am still so ignorant of what I'm getting myself into.
But I'm also joyful. I am doing this out of love for the Church, passion for orthodoxy and the unity of the Christian church, and an ardent desire to partake in the Eucharist and the other sacraments. Every day confirms in me that I am choosing well, and what I am doing with this decision glorifies God.
I'm not fully committed yet. I still have some months to deal with my doubts and get used to the idea of calling myself a Catholic. The label feels very foreign, very "other." Until then, I'd like to explain further what I've learned, how I've changed certain ideas and practices in myself, how I've not changed, how I still disagree or disapprove of some Catholic stuff, and the details of how I've come to love and defend the Church anyway.
Thank you to every listening heart and every open mind I've encountered along the way. I love you, friends.
Would you like to stay tuned?
Since I moved to Colorado (literally, since my first Sunday) I have been attending Mass and falling in love with the Church. I am overwhelmed by beauty, delighted by liturgy, transfixed by sacraments, fascinated by mystery, comforted by orthodoxy. I attended confirmation classes, studied the Cathechism, and did a lot of reading. I talked with a lot of people: the priests, the Catholic friends I met, many friends who aren't Catholic but love me and love church unity, too. And with deeply concerned, disapproving Protestants. I talk with my brother. And I talk with a thoughtful, patient, sincere man named Matthew. But that's another story. This is about how I love the Catholic Church, not just about how I love him.
In my first month in Boulder, I found myself dating a Catholic, and I told him upfront that I would never, ever become Catholic (so deal with it!).
In my third month here I joined RCIA (Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults, confirmation class), not to join the Church, of course, because I was never going to do that. But just to learn more, meet more people at my new "home church," and have interesting conversations. I also wanted to get the lowdown on why I couldn't take Communion.
By Spring I was pretty distraught over being denied Communion with my community. Every week, every Mass. It gets real old. Except for that, I had decided that the Catholic Church was pretty wonderful, and thought it was too bad that wasn't part of my identity. We are tribal when it comes to religious expression. My people are not high-church people.
Summertime 2012 I decided to rejoin RCIA for my second year in Boulder, and at least pretend that this time I would really go through with confirmation. I secretly thought that probably I would still find some way out, and not have to commit to Catholicism for the rest of my life. I don't know. I balk at the totality of the commitment.
On the second of December 2012, the Church welcomed me in the Rite of Acceptance as a candidate for confirmation, and I am officially on my way to First Communion this Easter. And I'm excited. Deeply. I can't wait.
How did this happen? How do I discern this despite my objections and doubts? What are my reasons?
It has been a long journey. It's convenient to refer to my time studying Catholic art in Spain and cite my Honors Program Thesis: an enthusiastic celebration of the strong tradition of Catholic art, why the Reformers were wrong, and how Protestants need to learn from the Catholic tradition. And it's easy to refer to my pilgrimage to Rome in my third year of college, my unexpected and life-changing encounter with holiness at a candlelight Mass at Trinità dei Monti for Easter Vigil, my joyful Easter at the Vatican, my obsession with Christian art and history. (I mean, I just reread the other blog posts here, and I'm surprised how consistently I was inspired by Catholic Stuff). But the journey has come a long way since then, and my enthusiasm has only grown. Familiarity fostered love.
My doubts are many. I agonize over this, I do.
I'm a bit terrified.
I'm very, very serious. Brow furrowed, nose in books, snapping questions, praying agonized prayers. Absolutely overawed during Mass, holding my breath for reverence. Feeling foreign, feeling alien, feeling disturbed, feeling actual hostility toward some of the things I call "Catholic Crap," feeling clumsy, feeling humbled. Asking myself, will I regret this? to the point of tears. Knowing that I am still so ignorant of what I'm getting myself into.
But I'm also joyful. I am doing this out of love for the Church, passion for orthodoxy and the unity of the Christian church, and an ardent desire to partake in the Eucharist and the other sacraments. Every day confirms in me that I am choosing well, and what I am doing with this decision glorifies God.
I'm not fully committed yet. I still have some months to deal with my doubts and get used to the idea of calling myself a Catholic. The label feels very foreign, very "other." Until then, I'd like to explain further what I've learned, how I've changed certain ideas and practices in myself, how I've not changed, how I still disagree or disapprove of some Catholic stuff, and the details of how I've come to love and defend the Church anyway.
Thank you to every listening heart and every open mind I've encountered along the way. I love you, friends.
Would you like to stay tuned?
 |
| My favorite day: Easter Vigil at St. Thomas Aquinas University Parish in Boulder. This is my church, this is what I love, and this is where I will take my First Communion, Lord willing, at Easter this year. |
Friday, November 4, 2011
Hymn for the Mountaintop
Sometimes the scariest things in life are the most rewarding. The symbol of ascending a mountain has been speaking well to me about it recently.
This is about biking eight miles up a mountain in the dark before sunrise. It's about scary journeys. It's about traveling a long way in the cold, feeling the warmth of sunrise, welcoming the morning. Cresting the canyon and seeing the glaciers and snowfields in the Western mountains. Realizing you've arrived an a place of astonishing beauty. Realizing your new life is turning out to be filled with incredible blessings.
This is about moving to Colorado.
but God is the strength of my heart
and my portion forever.
3 my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge,
my shield and the horn of my salvation.
He is my stronghold, my refuge and my savior—
from violent people you save me.
7 “In my distress I called to the LORD;
I called out to my God.
From his temple he heard my voice;
my cry came to his ears.
10 He parted the heavens and came down;
dark clouds were under his feet.
11 He mounted the cherubim and flew;
he soared on the wings of the wind.
12 He made darkness his canopy around him—
the dark rain clouds of the sky.
13 Out of the brightness of his presence
bolts of lightning blazed forth.
14 The LORD thundered from heaven;
the voice of the Most High resounded.
17 “He reached down from on high and took hold of me;
he drew me out of deep waters.
18 He rescued me from my powerful enemy,
from my foes, who were too strong for me.
19 They confronted me in the day of my disaster,
but the LORD was my support.
20 He brought me out into a spacious place;
he rescued me because he delighted in me.
21 “The LORD has dealt with me according to my righteousness;
according to the cleanness of my hands he has rewarded me.
22 For I have kept the ways of the LORD;
I am not guilty of turning from my God.
23 All his laws are before me;
I have not turned away from his decrees.
24 I have been blameless before him
and have kept myself from sin.
25 The LORD has rewarded me according to my righteousness,
according to my cleanness in his sight.
26 “To the faithful you show yourself faithful,
to the blameless you show yourself blameless,
27 to the pure you show yourself pure,
but to the devious you show yourself shrewd.
28 You save the humble,
but your eyes are on the haughty to bring them low.
29 You, LORD, are my lamp;
the LORD turns my darkness into light.
34 He makes my feet like the feet of a deer;
he causes me to stand on the heights.
35 He trains my hands for battle;
my arms can bend a bow of bronze.
47 “The LORD lives! Praise be to my Rock!
Exalted be my God, the Rock, my Savior!
This is about biking eight miles up a mountain in the dark before sunrise. It's about scary journeys. It's about traveling a long way in the cold, feeling the warmth of sunrise, welcoming the morning. Cresting the canyon and seeing the glaciers and snowfields in the Western mountains. Realizing you've arrived an a place of astonishing beauty. Realizing your new life is turning out to be filled with incredible blessings.
This is about moving to Colorado.
Psalm 73:6
My flesh and my heart may fail,but God is the strength of my heart
and my portion forever.
2 Samuel 22 A Song of Praise
1 David sang to the LORD the words of this song when the LORD delivered him from the hand of all his enemies and from the hand of Saul. 2 He said: “The LORD is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer;3 my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge,
my shield and the horn of my salvation.
He is my stronghold, my refuge and my savior—
from violent people you save me.
7 “In my distress I called to the LORD;
I called out to my God.
From his temple he heard my voice;
my cry came to his ears.
10 He parted the heavens and came down;
dark clouds were under his feet.
11 He mounted the cherubim and flew;
he soared on the wings of the wind.
12 He made darkness his canopy around him—
the dark rain clouds of the sky.
13 Out of the brightness of his presence
bolts of lightning blazed forth.
14 The LORD thundered from heaven;
the voice of the Most High resounded.
17 “He reached down from on high and took hold of me;
he drew me out of deep waters.
18 He rescued me from my powerful enemy,
from my foes, who were too strong for me.
19 They confronted me in the day of my disaster,
but the LORD was my support.
20 He brought me out into a spacious place;
he rescued me because he delighted in me.
21 “The LORD has dealt with me according to my righteousness;
according to the cleanness of my hands he has rewarded me.
22 For I have kept the ways of the LORD;
I am not guilty of turning from my God.
23 All his laws are before me;
I have not turned away from his decrees.
24 I have been blameless before him
and have kept myself from sin.
25 The LORD has rewarded me according to my righteousness,
according to my cleanness in his sight.
26 “To the faithful you show yourself faithful,
to the blameless you show yourself blameless,
27 to the pure you show yourself pure,
but to the devious you show yourself shrewd.
28 You save the humble,
but your eyes are on the haughty to bring them low.
29 You, LORD, are my lamp;
the LORD turns my darkness into light.
34 He makes my feet like the feet of a deer;
he causes me to stand on the heights.
35 He trains my hands for battle;
my arms can bend a bow of bronze.
47 “The LORD lives! Praise be to my Rock!
Exalted be my God, the Rock, my Savior!
 |
| The Summit of Green Mountain, Boulder |
Monday, September 19, 2011
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Dear Dad,
Did you know, as a child I used to feel sorry for other kids because they had someone other than you for a father? It's true.
Thanks for always making sure I am well-provided with everything I need to do my best, from bringing me home from the hospital (even though you didn't know what to do with me) all the way through college. I notice.
Also, the trip to Camden Hills/Bath/Captain's Fresh Idea (ha ha)/Boothbay/Southport was one of the highlights of my summer (even if I didn't come back with a sweet red convertible BMW). Mostly because I love just being with you. Thanks for treating me right.
Happy, happy birthday! I wish we could all be together today!
Love you and miss you, daddy
Mary Alisa
Thanks for always making sure I am well-provided with everything I need to do my best, from bringing me home from the hospital (even though you didn't know what to do with me) all the way through college. I notice.
Also, the trip to Camden Hills/Bath/Captain's Fresh Idea (ha ha)/Boothbay/Southport was one of the highlights of my summer (even if I didn't come back with a sweet red convertible BMW). Mostly because I love just being with you. Thanks for treating me right.
Happy, happy birthday! I wish we could all be together today!
Love you and miss you, daddy
Mary Alisa
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Ambitions for this Summer
Or, mainly, a Summer Reading List, and other assorted goals.
I want to read:
-Nourishing Traditions, Sally Fallon
-The Weight of Glory, C.S. Lewis
-Post Captain, Patrick O'Brian.
-Created to be His Help Meet, Debi Pearl
(Already begun, and not sure of the extent to which I agree)
-Crossing to Safety, Wallace Stegner
-What to Eat, Marion Nestle
-The Gift of Asher Lev, Chaim Potok
(I had no idea My Name is Asher Lev had a sequel)
-Honoring the Body: Meditations on a Christian Practice, Stephanie Paulsell
-Receiving the Day: Christian Practices for Opening the Gift of Time, Dorothy Bass
(A book about "receiving each day as a gift from God... She encourages readers to open their hearts every morning in quiet thanks to God for life, to learn to structure their lives with flexible regularity, to use their time for things that matter and to live today confidently, without fear. She also discusses the benefits of keeping the Sabbath, observing the Christian year with all its special holidays and religious celebrations, and counting days and moments with an eye on eternity." Sounds good.)
-Commodore Hornblower, C.S. Forester.
(Classic adventures. The Hornblower Saga never gets old, no matter how many times you re-read it. Bonus: happy memories of Dad reading it out loud to us)
-The Hero and the Crown, Robin McKinley
(well, re-read, really. It was my favorite book when I was about nine)
-The Percy Jackson books? Maybe? The prospect makes me happy, but we'll see.
And more bits of the Apocrypha, but I'm not sure which yet.
Also, one of my grandmother's Sewing Circle friends will hopefully be teaching me to weave fabric on a floor loom. This is so cool I can hardly believe it might actually happen.
Other aspirations include:
-lots of experimental cooking from scratch, from whole foods
-teaching Ali to sail, one on one. We will pretend to be Pellew and Hornblower.
-carrying my sketchbook around on hikes in Islesboro, and producing a lot of drawings
-making my own lip balm
Photos of some inspiration: the work of Sheila Hicks. Saw an exhibition at Phillips Academy when I was in Andover this winter, and I am still in awe. I want to learn more about textiles!
I want to read:
-Nourishing Traditions, Sally Fallon
-The Weight of Glory, C.S. Lewis
-Post Captain, Patrick O'Brian.
-Created to be His Help Meet, Debi Pearl
(Already begun, and not sure of the extent to which I agree)
-Crossing to Safety, Wallace Stegner
-What to Eat, Marion Nestle
-The Gift of Asher Lev, Chaim Potok
(I had no idea My Name is Asher Lev had a sequel)
-Honoring the Body: Meditations on a Christian Practice, Stephanie Paulsell
-Receiving the Day: Christian Practices for Opening the Gift of Time, Dorothy Bass
(A book about "receiving each day as a gift from God... She encourages readers to open their hearts every morning in quiet thanks to God for life, to learn to structure their lives with flexible regularity, to use their time for things that matter and to live today confidently, without fear. She also discusses the benefits of keeping the Sabbath, observing the Christian year with all its special holidays and religious celebrations, and counting days and moments with an eye on eternity." Sounds good.)
-Commodore Hornblower, C.S. Forester.
(Classic adventures. The Hornblower Saga never gets old, no matter how many times you re-read it. Bonus: happy memories of Dad reading it out loud to us)
-The Hero and the Crown, Robin McKinley
(well, re-read, really. It was my favorite book when I was about nine)
-The Percy Jackson books? Maybe? The prospect makes me happy, but we'll see.
And more bits of the Apocrypha, but I'm not sure which yet.
Also, one of my grandmother's Sewing Circle friends will hopefully be teaching me to weave fabric on a floor loom. This is so cool I can hardly believe it might actually happen.
Other aspirations include:
-lots of experimental cooking from scratch, from whole foods
-teaching Ali to sail, one on one. We will pretend to be Pellew and Hornblower.
-carrying my sketchbook around on hikes in Islesboro, and producing a lot of drawings
-making my own lip balm
Photos of some inspiration: the work of Sheila Hicks. Saw an exhibition at Phillips Academy when I was in Andover this winter, and I am still in awe. I want to learn more about textiles!
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