sewing

I LOVE my sewing classes!

Love 'em, love 'em, love 'em!
I love quilting and the memory of my old quilting days.  Quilting is how I discerned that I did not have a vocation to be a nun.  I loved quilting and pie-baking so much, and it was on those two bases that I did not pursue a religious vocation!
    So to be surrounded by all these quilts as I open up my sewing machine and learn something new--it is to "know who I am."  That brings me happiness!!!

an impossible and great life

     My life is just impossible! We started homeschooling yesterday.  It is perfectly impossible to get everything done!  Parenting and formation (spiritual, psychological, emotional), 4 children's schoolwork with a wild and very loud toddler in tow; laundry, 3 meals and snacks, phone calls and emails, and (my least favorite) bills.  Oh my goodness!  I broke into tears at 4:30 when I was on my knees helping the kids straighten their arts and crafts shelf, and a loose and unruly stack of papers and books fell on my head at Mary's mishandling of them.
     We have started school a week early, so that we can experiment with the order of the day.  We are only doing 3 subjects per child.  We are figuring out chores, coming up with ideas for Annie, etc.  I built in time, so that when something goes wrong, instead of getting upset, I could think, "What do we need to do differently to make this work better?"  (But isn't that what all of life is about?  Building in that time, and replacing upset with wonder and problem solving!)
     I thought about replacing homeschooling with a local school.  There is a great local school called Mt. Saint Michael's, and all 4 older kids would fit in perfectly there.  I have been in discernment about that, praying about it and getting sort of excited that this might be my last year of homeschooling.  Ron has begun that prayerful discernment as well.  In moments when it all seems too much, I have that to consider.
    But 2 nights ago, Ron said to me, "Katie, I want to know how you are doing in your discernment.  But as for me, I am so amazed at what they get here that they would not get at Mt. Saint Michael's.  They are not just going through workbooks--they LOVE their work because of how you talk with them.  They are not just reading for school; they LOVE novels and read for pleasure.  They could get a good education at Mt. Saint Michael's. But they are not likely to get--that something extra that is hard to explain.  You are truly making them great.  Their ability to solve a problem, their inquiry into great ideas, their love of the poor--even just seeing Clare do the dishes on her little stool at the sink without being asked--these are remarkable children, and your impossible life is making that happen."
     This conversation happened after the kids were in bed.  That night, the 4 older children and I had had a long discussion about books, and the importance of reading.  Mary wound up compiling a stack of books to read, while Leigh and Clare whipped out their little readers and hammered through one after the other with all their might.  My brain was swimming with every positive chemical the human body affords, as I delighted in this miracle scene.
    Who knows where my discernment will be at the end of the year.  But for now, I'm offering the hardship of each day for the best intentions I have: the spiritual happiness of my friends and family, and for those most in need of mercy.

Plato's Philosophy of Art

     I just do not agree with Plato's philosophy of art.
     Plato says that, just as nature is a reflection of the Forms, art is a reflection of nature.  So art is twice removed from the Forms.
     To me, art is like a highway to what is transcendently real.  I agree with Plato that what is transcendent is more true than what is visible.  I agree that there are Forms--absolutely.  But art is like a wormhole to the Forms.  Art shows us what the world is like and who we are better than just looking around does.
    Good art does, that is.

the power of motherhood

     So I was just having a margarita with my friend, Amy, who is a mother of 5.  Her four year old boy has 3 older sisters.  My friend says to me, "Kathryn, my son is talking a lot about wanting to be a mother.  I think I need to talk to him about the importance of manhood.  I've got to help him see that being a boy is a good thing."
    Then she pauses and unsolicitedly offers her theory of why he is so desiring to be a mother: "I think he wants all the power.  He sees me and he assumes, 'If I am a mother, I'll have lots of power.'"
       Now that is a woman after my own heart!

Contemplating today. . .

. . . the mystery that a God who is completely unknowable to human beings chose to be known anyway.  And when He chose to be known, He did so:
1) in flesh
2) in darkness
3) in death
4) in being a servant

The best way of finding God, then, is through our weaknesses, deaths, and in becoming servants.  We must embrace the losses, the ruins, the failures, the humiliations, the disappointments, the sicknesses, the death!  We must find ways to become servants--more and more ways; new levels of servanthood.  We must go lower and lower.  It is not just a matter of becoming okay with our losses.  It is a matter of rejoicing in them.  They are the portals to heaven.
     It is as though our lives are one constant hitting against a brick wall.  We are trying to become important to the people that matter to us, we are trying to achieve success, we are trying to secure comfort and avoid pain.  But we are constantly falling short of these goals.  These goals are mirages, like lovely pictures painted on a wall.  We strive after them with all our might, and when we arrive, rather than entering the scene, we just bruise our noses on the bricks.  How do we find the escape tunnels through the wall?  When we find a disappointment or a loss, and seek the Cross there, when we really desire union with Christ Crucified and thus embrace the loss with all our might, we get through the brick wall, and find the hidden pathway to God.
     Ah!  That people could find this peace!  I wish I could bottle it up and give it to all the ones I know and love.  I wish I could give it to everyone.

bottom out

     This is the week that I bottomed out.  I have been supporting Ron, his work, his relationship with his family, his emotional well being and the general flourishing of his life.  It has been an intense effort and priority over these past several years, and especially this summer.
     This past week was the fifth week this summer that he was out of town.  When I brought him to the airport a week ago, I was already beyond what I could give.  The week has been me giving out of a deficit.  It has been like spending money on credit or like an engine running with no oil.  The sparks have been flying in my emotional life, and I have been expecting an explosion!
     I have managed to give the kids whatever morsels I had, and it makes me smile to think of their little gains:
     Leigh got a great haircut!

We've all been doing P90X together!  (check out Annie too!)

Mary and Jake and I stayed up till midnight one night--I think of it as their debut into pre-teen life.  We talked and laughed and had a ball--they thought it was historic (and it was!)

      But I am really, really tired.  I am depleted.  My brain hurts and I feel like I am going to burst into tears at any moment, all day long.
      Ron came home last night, and I am so glad I did not emotionally deregulate.  I told him the honest truth about where I am and what my needs are, but I did it in a constructive and loving way.  No guilt trips or accusations.
     He has been really, really tender and responsive.  He is listening well, giving me what I need in the moment as well as discussing what my needs are long term.
    I am overwhelmed with gratitude that I have been giving beyond what I have for a trustworthy man.  He is not taking for his own advantage--these trips have been to support our family and me in particular. My long term goals are things he can better meet if he makes these immediate career gains, and he is making that clear.
    There is that old story about how after we die, we all sit at a banqueting table together with very long utensils.  The people in hell are starving at the banquet, while the people in heaven are full.  The people in hell cannot get the food into their mouths--the utensils are too long.  But the people in heaven have learned to feed each other.  While no one can feed himself, if everyone feeds everyone else, each person will get fed and no one will go hungry.
    Ron and I are in a very intense time, learning how to give each other our all.  We both need the other one to be trustworthy, or the other one will have a nervous breakdown!
     This next period is a time for me to recover.  I am so raw and in such a deep deficit that it is going to take some real creativity!  


  

practicing and preaching

      Our whole family is on its way to Milwaulkee so that Ron and I can present A New Way to Love for Catholic Couples to the conference the Bishops have chosen to launch the marriage initiative of the USCCB.
     The astounding thing to me is that yesterday, Ron's only day home in a long time, we had a very hard day.  Lots of problems to iron out, and we were both quite upset with each other.
     But we spent several hours tenaciously clinging to the Dialogue process, and we never fought.  We just mirrored, validated and empathized over and over until we were through it.
     There was plenty to fight about, but we never fought.  We spoke kindly, and anything the kids heard was fine for them to hear, because there was nothing said that was not loving.
     To be on the other side of the problem, all back to a happy, unified place, as we pack our bags and ready ourselves for the flight--I am awestruck with the joy of practicing what we are preaching.  It is a cause of joy that Ron and I are reconciled, and another cause of more joy that our marriage is concordant with what we are about to say through the microphone!