"Aspire to live a tranquil life, mind your own affairs and work with your own hands." - 1 Thess. 4:11
I have a job - a couple in fact! I've even submitted invoices, but that's far less important that feeling useful and using God's gifts.
When we made the move to Germany, I knew working would be tough. I am lucky to work for a wonderful organization full of great people at home (Volunteers of America), and they said they would keep sending some writing/editing work my way even after we moved. For the most part though, I have been unemployed as I waded through the various tax and legal implications of attempting to work here.
The Catechism of the Catholic Church says this, "Unemployment almost always wounds its victim's dignity and threatens the equilibrium of his life." (2436) I get it. For months, I didn't quite feel like me. And my husband can vouch for the last part of that paragraph: "Besides the harm done to him personally, it entails many risks for his family." In my case, that's random meltdowns and far more stress than a person should have when they are not working (and don't need to financially).
My work has never been about making money or becoming important. For the 15 years of my working life, my careers have been about serving the community as a journalist and in the nonprofit sector. To me, it was always a calling and a ministry. Being at home left me with an acute sense of being disconnected from my community and indeed from my faith.
The Catechism backs me up: "Work honors the Creator's gifts and the talents received from him. ... In work, the person exercises and fulfills in part the potential inscribed in his nature." (2427-8) So, if I am no longer using my talents in the way God has led me, what am I doing? What is my purpose?
Yes, I am taking care of my husband and our daughter. Those are critical, life giving parts of my vocation. But they are parts. God did not give me the talent or drive to entertain a preschooler all day or keep a perfect house. It has taken me a while to come to terms with that, and I regularly ask myself if I am making excuses -- but that is a post for another day.
I do know without a doubt God wants me to tell His story through the lives of our brothers and sisters. Thanks to technology, wonderful contacts and some new opportunities I am able to continue.
The last several months also gave me an appreciation for those who, for whatever reason, are not working. At Volunteers of America, work of some kind is a critical part of treatment plans for people with disabilities and Veterans. Work has power. Through it we create and contribute to our world.
May God bless all who labor and those who are seeking to use his gifts in service to their families and communities.
Tuesday, February 16, 2016
Thursday, January 14, 2016
Cleanliness, Godliness and me
"Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me." Psalm 51:10
The annual January organization blitz is in full force this year. The release of Marie Kondo's follow up to “The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up,” the rise of "Bullet Journals," and of course the sales on bins and organization systems all promise new ways to make our lives more orderly.
I am the first to admit I am in great need of such systems. I am a terrible housekeeper (sorry Mom - you did teach me better). And since I stopped working regularly, the lack of structure in my day means time seems to get away from me more, and I'm not as productive.
So the Kondo book is on order, and I actually kind of like this Bullet Journal thing to keep my runaway thoughts and lists in one place. Maybe 2016 will be the year I restore some order and sanity to my life.
Since our physical world is so connected to the spiritual, the need for order has religious implications as well. In this Washington Post column, Author Karen Swallow Prior explores this connection. She clarifies "cleanliness is next to Godliness" is John Wesley, not the Bible, but adds the saying is rooted in a long history of connections between physical and spiritual cleanliness.
"The desire to create order amid chaos, to resist the dirt of decay, reflects the order and purity of the one who created us," she said.
But if taken to extreme, cleanliness and tidiness can bring us to a Pharisaical scrupulousness. The Old Testament is full of rules for cleanliness.
Worse, as we immerse ourselves in this organizational overhaul we can start to think we control the world around us. When it doesn't fit in our nice, neat boxes, we are lost. Even Kondo has a place for things that are necessary but don't fit in her mantra of "sparking joy," like can openers. Life can't always be ordered according to our wishes.
Cleanliness and tidiness are certainly marks of good stewardship for what God has given us. But God is always in control. In that knowledge, we find peace.
May you be blessed with a clean house, and more importantly a right spirit.
The annual January organization blitz is in full force this year. The release of Marie Kondo's follow up to “The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up,” the rise of "Bullet Journals," and of course the sales on bins and organization systems all promise new ways to make our lives more orderly.
I am the first to admit I am in great need of such systems. I am a terrible housekeeper (sorry Mom - you did teach me better). And since I stopped working regularly, the lack of structure in my day means time seems to get away from me more, and I'm not as productive.
So the Kondo book is on order, and I actually kind of like this Bullet Journal thing to keep my runaway thoughts and lists in one place. Maybe 2016 will be the year I restore some order and sanity to my life.
Since our physical world is so connected to the spiritual, the need for order has religious implications as well. In this Washington Post column, Author Karen Swallow Prior explores this connection. She clarifies "cleanliness is next to Godliness" is John Wesley, not the Bible, but adds the saying is rooted in a long history of connections between physical and spiritual cleanliness.
"The desire to create order amid chaos, to resist the dirt of decay, reflects the order and purity of the one who created us," she said.
But if taken to extreme, cleanliness and tidiness can bring us to a Pharisaical scrupulousness. The Old Testament is full of rules for cleanliness.
Worse, as we immerse ourselves in this organizational overhaul we can start to think we control the world around us. When it doesn't fit in our nice, neat boxes, we are lost. Even Kondo has a place for things that are necessary but don't fit in her mantra of "sparking joy," like can openers. Life can't always be ordered according to our wishes.
Cleanliness and tidiness are certainly marks of good stewardship for what God has given us. But God is always in control. In that knowledge, we find peace.
May you be blessed with a clean house, and more importantly a right spirit.
Wednesday, January 6, 2016
The light has come!
"They were overjoyed at seeing the star." Matthew 2:10
Happy Epiphany!
Today's Gospel revolves around a star casting such a great light it attracted the magi from a distant land.
It's the culmination of the last 12 days of Scripture about Christ as the light of the world:
On Christmas Eve: "The glory of the Lord shone around them."
The Second Sunday of Christmas: "This life was the light of the human race."
And today, the appearance of the star.
Thanks to my first winter in Germany, I finally get it.
It is dark here, y'all. People warned me. They told me to take my Vitamin D. But nothing really prepares you for sunset at about 4:30 p.m. and sunrise at 8:45 a.m. The picture here is our walk to Kindergarten a little after 8. Even at "high" noon, the sun is just over the houses across the street.
Darkness oppresses and isolates. I don't want to get out of bed, and I would rather just hole up in the house. Darkness heightens fear and encourages suspicion. It limits us.
But in the light -- in Christ -- we can see the beauty of the world. We trust our senses and our judgement of the people and places we encounter. We are free.
In the German church, Epiphany is still celebrated on the 6th of January, and it marks the official end of the Christmas season. The city will pick up our tree tomorrow, and the decorations will return to the basement.
But the light remains. We will continue to celebrate with Karneval, and each day will bring a little more light.
May we reflect the same light of Christ in our lives.
Sunday, January 3, 2016
Rejoicing in routine
"Devote yourselves to prayer, keeping alert in it with an attitude of thanksgiving." - Colossians 4:2
Happy New Year!
Today is the first Monday of 2016, which always feels like the first real day of the year. Husband returned to work. Kiddo goes back to school tomorrow, and I am praying for a sense of routine and normal.
A few months ago, my friend Katie posted this piece she called "The Thrill of the Dull and Mundane Life." I think she expected the title to be paradoxical, but to me it sounded an elusive dream.
"On one of my hardest mornings," she wrote. "I waved goodbye to Andrew from the porch and, seeing a plane soar overhead, I cried because I wished so painfully that I were on it."
As I read that paragraph, I cried because I so wanted her normal routine of home and kids and school and church.
For about six months, we have lived in a state of semi-controlled chaos. From learning of our new assignment, to moving to figuring out what it means to live abroad, nothing has been normal. Being in Europe is great, but despite my Facebook posts, it's not all travel and adventure. We have to LIVE here.
Everything -- from banking to grocery shopping to taking out the garbage - requires a language/cultural interpretation. Everything takes longer than I think it should. Those little things add up, so something as simple as looking at a cook book is likely to lead to frustration when I realize I can't get cheddar cheese or cream of chicken soup for a casserole.
A recent near-catastrophe at the bank reminded me of the power of gratitude. Once it was resolved, and I realized I had not in fact lost $1300, I went to the Christmas program at the Kindergarten. The kids sang, and we ate cookies, and I felt a renewed sense of thanksgiving. All of the other frustrations of the day melted away.
Paul wrote the above passage while he was in prison. He must have been frustrated and scared, but this chapter doesn't show it. Instead he speaks with confidence and thanksgiving that his ministry will continue. In thanksgiving, he keeps perspective on the mission.
I still pray for some sense of normal, and I'm hopeful that the new year will bring more routine. But my resolution is to live with more gratitude, and in this Year of Mercy, to pray for God's mercy.
No matter where 2016 takes us, a spirit of thanksgiving means we will always feel God's blessings.
Happy New Year!
Today is the first Monday of 2016, which always feels like the first real day of the year. Husband returned to work. Kiddo goes back to school tomorrow, and I am praying for a sense of routine and normal.
A few months ago, my friend Katie posted this piece she called "The Thrill of the Dull and Mundane Life." I think she expected the title to be paradoxical, but to me it sounded an elusive dream.
"On one of my hardest mornings," she wrote. "I waved goodbye to Andrew from the porch and, seeing a plane soar overhead, I cried because I wished so painfully that I were on it."
As I read that paragraph, I cried because I so wanted her normal routine of home and kids and school and church.
For about six months, we have lived in a state of semi-controlled chaos. From learning of our new assignment, to moving to figuring out what it means to live abroad, nothing has been normal. Being in Europe is great, but despite my Facebook posts, it's not all travel and adventure. We have to LIVE here.
Everything -- from banking to grocery shopping to taking out the garbage - requires a language/cultural interpretation. Everything takes longer than I think it should. Those little things add up, so something as simple as looking at a cook book is likely to lead to frustration when I realize I can't get cheddar cheese or cream of chicken soup for a casserole.
A recent near-catastrophe at the bank reminded me of the power of gratitude. Once it was resolved, and I realized I had not in fact lost $1300, I went to the Christmas program at the Kindergarten. The kids sang, and we ate cookies, and I felt a renewed sense of thanksgiving. All of the other frustrations of the day melted away.
Paul wrote the above passage while he was in prison. He must have been frustrated and scared, but this chapter doesn't show it. Instead he speaks with confidence and thanksgiving that his ministry will continue. In thanksgiving, he keeps perspective on the mission.
I still pray for some sense of normal, and I'm hopeful that the new year will bring more routine. But my resolution is to live with more gratitude, and in this Year of Mercy, to pray for God's mercy.
No matter where 2016 takes us, a spirit of thanksgiving means we will always feel God's blessings.
Sunday, November 22, 2015
Reclaim the spirit of love
"God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather a spirit of power and of love" - 2 Timothy 1:7
Watching the news lately, it would be easy to succumb to fear. It's a natural first reaction when innocent people lose their lives so suddenly and violently.
As I watched the story from Paris and the reaction unfold, a sense of unease set it. All of this circle the wagons talk just didn't seem right -- or Christian. Then I remembered the above verse from 2 Timothy.
And this one from Matthew 6: "And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life?"
And Isaiah 41:10, "Do not fear, for I am with you."
And for the pop culture philosophers out there, from Yoda himself: "Fear is the path to the dark side."
As the news keeps coming and borders tighten, fear seems the easier path. Fear of another attack. Fear of refugees. Fear of Muslims. We cannot give in to the hysteria of that fear. Fear is not of God.
When we spread fear, we are playing the same game as the terrorists. Fr. Frederico Lombardi, Vatican Spokesman said it well in the National Catholic Reporter: "These murderers, possessed by a senseless hatred, are called ‘terrorists’ precisely because they want to spread terror. If we let ourselves be frightened, they will have already reached their first objective."
Instead, God asks us to be strong and to love. God's love is not schmaltzy or weak. He didn't give us the spirit of doormats. God's love means we look at each other as created in his image. Gods love, when reflected in us, has the power to change even the most difficult situations.
Our town is home to a number of refugee families from the Middle East. My contact with them has been limited, but I can offer two images:
One is a man in my German class. He is intelligent, friendly and hard working. He is often one of the first ones to answer questions and reminds everyone to speak in German instead of their native language. He knows he will have to learn the language to work and create a better life.
Another are the people we walk past each Sunday on our way to Mass. One or two will kneel on the hard cobblestones with a hat upturned. Their posture is striking and makes the passerby physically uncomfortable. A coin in the hat brings a smile, thankful they are closer to the necessities they need and perhaps just thankful someone saw them as human.
Neither case prompts any sense of fear. I am more likely to admire their courage and feel pain at their need.
Understanding that pain and finding solutions for people in need is hard. Spotting the different among us and cultivating fear is easy. May we have the courage to do the hard thing and create a spirit of love.
Watching the news lately, it would be easy to succumb to fear. It's a natural first reaction when innocent people lose their lives so suddenly and violently.
As I watched the story from Paris and the reaction unfold, a sense of unease set it. All of this circle the wagons talk just didn't seem right -- or Christian. Then I remembered the above verse from 2 Timothy.
And this one from Matthew 6: "And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life?"
And Isaiah 41:10, "Do not fear, for I am with you."
And for the pop culture philosophers out there, from Yoda himself: "Fear is the path to the dark side."
As the news keeps coming and borders tighten, fear seems the easier path. Fear of another attack. Fear of refugees. Fear of Muslims. We cannot give in to the hysteria of that fear. Fear is not of God.
When we spread fear, we are playing the same game as the terrorists. Fr. Frederico Lombardi, Vatican Spokesman said it well in the National Catholic Reporter: "These murderers, possessed by a senseless hatred, are called ‘terrorists’ precisely because they want to spread terror. If we let ourselves be frightened, they will have already reached their first objective."
Instead, God asks us to be strong and to love. God's love is not schmaltzy or weak. He didn't give us the spirit of doormats. God's love means we look at each other as created in his image. Gods love, when reflected in us, has the power to change even the most difficult situations.
Our town is home to a number of refugee families from the Middle East. My contact with them has been limited, but I can offer two images:
One is a man in my German class. He is intelligent, friendly and hard working. He is often one of the first ones to answer questions and reminds everyone to speak in German instead of their native language. He knows he will have to learn the language to work and create a better life.
Another are the people we walk past each Sunday on our way to Mass. One or two will kneel on the hard cobblestones with a hat upturned. Their posture is striking and makes the passerby physically uncomfortable. A coin in the hat brings a smile, thankful they are closer to the necessities they need and perhaps just thankful someone saw them as human.
Neither case prompts any sense of fear. I am more likely to admire their courage and feel pain at their need.
Understanding that pain and finding solutions for people in need is hard. Spotting the different among us and cultivating fear is easy. May we have the courage to do the hard thing and create a spirit of love.
Wednesday, November 11, 2015
Celebrating soldiers
As Americans and especially as a military family, today we celebrate Veterans Day. We honor the men and women who have committed their lives for the ideals of our country: freedom, justice, hope.
Until this year, I never made the connection that Veterans Day also falls on the feast of St. Martin of Tours, the patron saint of soldiers. St. Martin is huge in Germany for reasons I haven't figured out yet. But tonight we will gather in the town square, where children will hold up paper lanterns they made in school and we will process singing songs about this man who lived more than 1500 years ago. At the end of the procession, a local man dressed as St. Martin will come and tell the community the story of the soldier turned bishop.
Martin was an officer in the Roman army. The most famous anecdote begins on a cold winter night in France. St. Martin saw a beggar shivering in the elements on the side of the road. He stopped his horse and cut his cloak in two, giving half of it to the man. He likely would have given all of it, but half belonged to Rome. That night Martin had a dream that Jesus was wearing the cloak.
St. Martin is everything a military officer should be. He is a humble servant of his greatest ideals. He encourages and serves those in lower rank. One story says Martin would regularly clean the boots of the servant assigned to him. He fights and speaks out on behalf of those most vulnerable.
I have had the privilege of knowing many such officers in our Air Force, and am proud to count my husband among them. So today, I pray through the intercession of St. Martin for all of our men and women in uniform that they remember their oath to serve our country and always those in most need.
Monday, October 26, 2015
Better to be a humble child than a proud parent
"Unless you turn and become like children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven." - Matthew 18:3
My child amazes me.
I say that not just as a proud mom, but as a person genuinely in awe.
During the baptism preparation class we took before she was born, the speaker told us that someday we would stop in our tracks and realize how much our children were teaching us about living a Christian life. The moment occurred multiple times over the past month, as my 3-year-old has taught me more than I could imagine about faith and fearlessness.
First was ballet. We took her to see "The Nutcracker" last Christmas, and ever since, we had been promising her this fall she would get to take ballet. Germany was not going to get in the way. I found a studio, and a friend contacted the teacher so we could try it out. The teacher speaks great English, but, of course, does most of the instruction in German. Catherine didn't care. She jumped right in with the other girls. A huge grin stayed on her face and she jumped and twirled and volunteered to go first as if she had been taking lessons for years.
Then came Kindergarten. Ballet is only once a week, so all day, every day is a different story I thought. No. Again, we walked into school, she met the teacher, changed into her house shoes and ran off with the kids. By the time I picked her up, she was giving another girl a hug and didn't want to leave. After a couple weeks, I asked if she understood the other kids: "No Mommy, but we play anyway," she said matter-of-factly. Clearly her barriers are not the same as mine.
Somewhere in her brain, she senses or believes that ballet and Kindergarten are good for her. She trusts that I'm doing the right thing for her, and she doesn't ask a lot of questions about why (for once). If she can trust me, as flawed as I am, why is it so difficult for me to trust God?
The quote from the gospel of Matthew comes in a short exchange with the disciples. Again, they are misunderstanding the Kingdom of Heaven and ask Jesus who is the greatest. And Jesus must have wanted to scream, but instead he calls to a child and holds him up as an example of humility. Children haven't learned to depend on their own understanding. Instead, they have such faith in their parents that fearlessness comes naturally.
They run and dance and sing and laugh without worrying about what other people think or how it makes them look. They plunge into unfamiliar settings because they trust in the ones who put them there.
All of our journeys are full of places where we might doubt or fear even when we know we are going in the right direction. May God grant us the grace to overcome with a big grin on our face and say yes to his plan.
My child amazes me.
I say that not just as a proud mom, but as a person genuinely in awe.
During the baptism preparation class we took before she was born, the speaker told us that someday we would stop in our tracks and realize how much our children were teaching us about living a Christian life. The moment occurred multiple times over the past month, as my 3-year-old has taught me more than I could imagine about faith and fearlessness.
First was ballet. We took her to see "The Nutcracker" last Christmas, and ever since, we had been promising her this fall she would get to take ballet. Germany was not going to get in the way. I found a studio, and a friend contacted the teacher so we could try it out. The teacher speaks great English, but, of course, does most of the instruction in German. Catherine didn't care. She jumped right in with the other girls. A huge grin stayed on her face and she jumped and twirled and volunteered to go first as if she had been taking lessons for years.
Then came Kindergarten. Ballet is only once a week, so all day, every day is a different story I thought. No. Again, we walked into school, she met the teacher, changed into her house shoes and ran off with the kids. By the time I picked her up, she was giving another girl a hug and didn't want to leave. After a couple weeks, I asked if she understood the other kids: "No Mommy, but we play anyway," she said matter-of-factly. Clearly her barriers are not the same as mine.
Somewhere in her brain, she senses or believes that ballet and Kindergarten are good for her. She trusts that I'm doing the right thing for her, and she doesn't ask a lot of questions about why (for once). If she can trust me, as flawed as I am, why is it so difficult for me to trust God?
The quote from the gospel of Matthew comes in a short exchange with the disciples. Again, they are misunderstanding the Kingdom of Heaven and ask Jesus who is the greatest. And Jesus must have wanted to scream, but instead he calls to a child and holds him up as an example of humility. Children haven't learned to depend on their own understanding. Instead, they have such faith in their parents that fearlessness comes naturally.
They run and dance and sing and laugh without worrying about what other people think or how it makes them look. They plunge into unfamiliar settings because they trust in the ones who put them there.
All of our journeys are full of places where we might doubt or fear even when we know we are going in the right direction. May God grant us the grace to overcome with a big grin on our face and say yes to his plan.
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