the battefront of the mind

This week has been a bit rough at my house. We are not yet settled into the kids school days routines, my own online school starts Monday. My daughter Corrie had another seizure at work, and my daughter Melissa is suffering. Her fiance suddenly called it quits, with no warning and apparently, little or no remorse. She is a college student, just getting settled in herself,or trying to. She has fought and overcome so much in her life already. One of my prayers for her is that God blesses her richly someday with a husband that loves her for exactly who she is.




Also, I have had some light bulb moments get past the noise in my brain. God is so impressive. When He wants to tell me something, He makes sure I get it. So much better than Fed Ex. But they're not bad.

Last evening, I drove out to pick up Melissa at her school. Her father also went to school there, and, at the time I met him, still lived near the campus. Whenever I would drive there, I remembered the directions by saying the name of the streets, in the order I took them. Yesterday, driving that route again, I saw them go by, and said to myself the names, the way I used to---High---Price.
Lesson learned.

Also, several days ago, while commenting on a friend's blog, I was telling about the time I was hospitalized for a  four month long headache. While writing, another one of those little lights popped on. Ah, the lessons taught by my friend, Hindsight.

During that time, I was; 1.a new convert; 2.In the process of extricating myself from yet another bad relationship; 3. Meeting resistance from said relationship-ee, resulting in being harassed and stalked at every turn; and 4; scraping to make a living for the three kids under my roof at the time, two in schools that required tuition. I will spare you the gory details. Cause they are. Gory.

The headache varied in intensity, but never went away. It was affecting my ability to work. After many doctor appointments, tests, and trials of medications, I saw the main doc of the headache clinic at Jefferson Hospital, a Russian woman, (and quite fabulous). She said I was suffering from a headache "cycle." That, basically, I was having the headache because I had the headache for so long. And that what I needed was to go into the hospital for three days, where I would be administered a cocktail of IV drugs that would "break the cycle." Again, I'll spare you the ins and outs, except to say that it didn't work right away, but within a few days, I felt a lot better, and though I did and do get headaches, it has never gotten that bad again. That is the human part of the story.

Here are my impressions of the supernatural part.

I was mired in a way of thinking for most of my adult life up to that point, and it was holding me back from being able to mature in my faith. The internal script-loop went something like this:

"I am tired and sad." (this was my depression mantra, not surprising, right?)

"I am not allowed to be happy."

" I got myself into this situation (enter the bad situation of the day here), so I am stuck with it."

"I need to stay with my current choice of a man and prove to God and the world I can have a stable relationship and life." (never mind the fact that God gave me plenty of warning about how I made my choices, and let me know He was never invited to that particular party. Oh, I thought I had asked Him, but it was the kind of asking your kid does when they're already halfway out the door, coat on, friends waiting outside, "It's okay if I go out, right?" _not that my kids ever do that_)
* (I must qualify a teeny bit here and say I am not advocating everyone to abandon their marriages. All but one of the relationships I am referring to here were not the married kind. And the one that was, was 1.invalid, and 2. abusive)

There were other premises I worked around, but that gives you the idea. My point is, all that talk was occurring in my mind. In my head. My head was the battlefield .My thoughts were being held hostage, and God, seeing as how I converted and all, now had His proverbial foot in the door. So He went to work. It was kind of a labor and birth. The headache part was the pushing. (Gar, those poor newborns!) I think God was saying, "okay, I am intervening here, and taking back the territory of your mind (and heart) so you can finally move past this destructive pattern. And to top it all off, I am going to bring your future husband into the picture. Cause, girl, you can't do it yourself!" And He did. Somehow, once I addressed the headaches, the bad life-stuff started to unravel and get worked out. I still had plenty of work to do, but the results were starting to show.
*(another note. If you have not read the part of my conversion story in which I explain the power of the Eucharistic Lord,you can find it--here. Wow, I refer to that post a lot.)

Do I ever still think wrongly? Yes. But the difference is, I see it quicker that I used to, because it seems so out of place now. Do I still need lots and lots of work? Yes. Lots. But Praise God, it doesn't seem to involve headaches.But please do pray for my dear friend Joyce over at The Little Way. She suffers with monstrous ones.

Blessings and Peace

Kelly

7 (early) quick takes (#3) in lieu of Blog Abstinence Friday

one

 Blog Abstinence Friday is something my good friend Joyce over at The Little Way, thought of. Here is how she put it-

In light of the horror that has made Philadelphia the epicenter of moral decay, perhaps you will join me in making this Friday a day of blog abstinence.  We will use the time we normally spend reading our favorite blogs, commenting and posting, in prayer for all the outrages committed against the Sacred Heart of Jesus, particularly here in the City of Brotherly Love.

What do you say?  Will you join me?  We will abstain from reading and writing on Friday, February 18th.  We will offer this small sacrifice in reparation.  Can you get the word out to other bloggers?

To which I said, yes! And if you are a blogger, you may want to join us. And if you're not a blogger, you still can join us! Notice she added the reading of blogs into the mix...any act of sacrifice would be accepted...

two

As far as the Philadelphia Debacle goes, I am rendered speechless. On top of the original report last week, another, further one was released today. One that for some of us in my locale, added another layer of grief. On reading other blogs and comments, I have seen everything from soup to nuts, and all I really know is my head is spinning and I am at a complete loss to say anything. All I know to do is pray and sacrifice. A dear  priest said last Sunday that the Church is being purified.

   ouch.

three

 On Valentines Day evening, my husband and I did something I have never, ever done in all my 49 years. It was equally wonderful and terrifying. I felt so out of place, and now still, after the deed, still feel like an impostor. Other people do this all the time, but for me it has the trappings of extravagance. Not that we didn't need to do it, we did. As much as I am happy about it, I kind of hope I never have to do it again! Here is the result of our foray into the world of people who buy large items.

Both he and I figured we could live in it if it ever came to that. It is nicer than our house, after all.

four

You know you and you spouse are becoming the same person when at the same moment, at mass, no less, you both think that orange juice is going to be needed for breakfast, and feel the need to lean over and whisper about it. 

five

I never really got over the Sick from three weeks ago, and while I am not as ill as our friend,  Mary Catherine, or my daughter, Meghann, it was bad enough that I finally went to the doc and got an antibiotic. A lot of it was realizing I will be singing at the pro life mass we attend (Helpers of God's Precious Infants--Saint John the Evangelist) at 7AM on Saturday morning. After trying to teach the CCD kids a few songs on Tuesday night, I just knew it wasn't going to happen if I didn't do something. So here's hoping that the med will do a semi-miracle by Saturday morning. 7AM isn't my best time for singing to begin with!

six

In doing lots of thinking about this Lent, I am looking forward to disconnecting from TV and facebook, as I have mentioned before. But now I am beginning to think of things I want to do with that time. One is that I want to read about the Church Fathers. (Faith of the Early Fathers Volume 1 by William Jurgens, has been recommended). There was another one I can't remember now... I also plan to go through and clean the house well. The last time I did that was in November, before Meghann and Co. came for their visit. Since then, it's been pretty much downhill. And other things like that, things I neglect due to distraction and lack of custody of my emotions and poor discipline in general. My good friend Marie and I often talk about how we got more done when we worked outside the home than we do now! I also plan to blog more regularly, and improve my blogging ( I hope!). We'll see how all those best laid plans go. And not to forget, amid all our many intentions in prayer-that now we have our Church's purification process to sacrifice for as well. But remember that, as Father Corapi reminds us--No Good Friday, no Easter Sunday; No pain, no gain, ; no cross, no crown! which leads me to ---

seven

 Spring. Lots of bloggers are all a- buzz about it.  Here in Philadelphia, Spring can be an iffy affair. Sometimes we go from winter to summer, like ka-BLAM.  The coats are still laying in the hallway, when suddenly we begin to talk about putting in the air conditioners. I would love if spring and fall were much more drawn out, like, you know, more than fifteen minutes long.  I still have hope, though, for the time when we can open the windows;  and for the time when the feeling of the sun is a welcome one- before it reaches the point when we are retreating from it, closing the curtains and doors against it, and once again having to seal ourselves off from the outdoors.

Wishing you a blessed weekend--see you Monday!

Peace,

Kelly

 

a Sunday thought

When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, "I used everything you gave me".
 Erma Bombeck

For the past few days, I have been using some of Erma's funny quotes for my facebook status. To me, the funniest things are the truest things. This one stood out though, as being true in a profound way. It reminds me of St. Therese of Lisieux and her Little Way.

It is something like this--to love and accept completely the people and tasks God has put in my life. To do the routine things with faithfulness and joy, offering them to God, knowing that the great things are out of my reach. In so doing, the little things become great.  Like the widow's mite, or the loaves and fish.

Whatever I am given to do on a certain day, let me do it to the best of my ability, and not forget love. The world has enough clanging symbols. The uncanny thing is, when I strike out in some direction out of obedience, I am often just at the beginning of some unseen road, and where that road leads, I can never foresee.

"Love proves itself by deeds, so how am I to show my love? Great deeds are forbidden me. The only way I can prove my love is by scattering flowers and these flowers are every little sacrifice, every glance and word, and the doing of the least actions for love." St. Therese of Lisieux, The Little Flower   

Now, to depart completely from the higher things in life, to this.

My dear husband Bob has a habit of mixing up words while typing, such as interchanging bear and bare, etc...

Here are two of his best.

Recently our basement took on a smell that was exactly like a litterbox overdue for cleaning. Except we don't have a cat. We had no idea where it was coming from. Our landlord, David,  (the nicest landlord on the planet) was coming to do some maintenance, so Bob emailed him to tell him about the smell.  He stated that there was a fowl odor in our basement. When Bob got home from work, it was all I could do not to cluck.

But this one is for the record books. Our youngest, Malaika, goes to our parish school, St. Monica's. Over the years, we have had to appeal to our pastor, Father Kelley, for a bit of leeway here and there in order to manage our tuition payments. One time, Bob emailed him explaining our latest late payment (?). He added at the end, " I hope this doesn't cause you any incontinence".

Silly typo?

A chuckle.

Silly typo to a priest? 

Priceless.