Lent 2016, the gauntlet

Well, here we are at the doorstep of yet another Lent. I remember last year's Lent and that it was hard or something, and for general forgetfulness, I am truly thankful.


I am fully on board with the saying, " Lent is not a diet." In some ways, I think that just omitting certain foods is a cop out from putting real thought into the furthering of our spiritual life.Just being hungry is not enough, though it has its merits. I personally need something that will point me toward God in a more conscious way. Many days, okay, most days, I get all caught up in the events of that day and go merrily on without Him.

So I want to have a multi-point approach this year. A little of this and a little of that.


The Plan.


1. Ransom some time back by going off of Facebook. I may blog here and there, and throw the post up on Facebook, (and try really hard not to chase after the piled up notifications).  I do this every year, and find I am looking forward to it more and more.

2. Generalized good eating but no specific dietary restricting. Except Fridays, of course, and just keeping things modest.  We have several celebrations throughout Lent, and this year, the birth of our second grandchild, so there will be some appropriate times to indulge a little. I have heard that NOT participating in someone's joyful celebration, (when possible), would in itself be, if not sinful, at least sort of ungenerous.

3. Reading. I began Rediscover Jesus by Matthew Kelly, and want to continue that. I also have lots of great spiritual books lying about. Unplugging to some extent and watching less TV will clear some space.

4. Going to daily mass, adoration, stations of the cross, and  more frequent confession. I am not going to say this day or that day, because my life just doesn't support that. I do want to say a daily Rosary.

5. Doing this.

6. Give alms wherever an opportunity arises. Sometimes this happens with giving someone time rather than money.

7. Little sacrifices. Doing something someone else wants rather than what I want. Praying while driving instead of listening to music. Doing something extra for someone that is not expected.
Offering up all difficulties of the day. Hurt feelings, bad drivers, crowded stores, disappointments, heartaches. You get the gist.

8. This may seem counter intuitive, but be joyful! Laugh. Find the humor in things. Smile at someone. Don't indulge in grumpiness or irritability. Hug someone. (be appropriate! haha). Give good vibes away.  Jesus said,  “If you keep My commandments, you will abide in My love; just as I have kept My Father’s commandments and abide in His love. These things I have spoken to you so that My joy may be in you, and that your joy may be made full." John 15:10-11.

That all may seem like a lot, but really, it's more of a mindset.  Setting the mind on Jesus. That's the goal, right?

Here's to a joyful and holy Lent!

7 quick mid-Lent-slump takes

1.

Last week my Lent routine fell apart. I missed daily mass three days, forgot my daily prayers a couple days, and when I finally got to mass on Friday, was provided with an opportunity to pray Stations of the Cross, but didn't get the flyer with the words on it as I entered, and then felt too self conscious to go around looking for it, so I just listened to the collective mumbling of everybody else, and called it "going to Stations." I did kneel and say, "for by your Holy Cross, you have redeemed the world,"so that made it count.

2.

Our cat, otherwise known as He Who Has Never Left The House, SOMEHOW has gotten fleas. Not a terrible case, but STILL. We have bathed him in Dawn dish soap several times, which he LOVES, and then have to vacuum and wash everything that isn't nailed down. (Which is, everything, because I don't know about you, but we don't nail things down).  Rinse and repeat. And NO TALKING about the fleas or we will all be itching. So, yes, right now, I am itching.

3.

I am reading The Collected Stories, by Isaac Bashevis Singer. I have always loved reading Jewish literature, I read everything by Chaim Potok as a kid/young adult. This book is all short stories, some are folk tales, some set in modern times in New York City, still folk-tale-ish. They all, so far, deal with the presence and effect of evil in the world. What is interesting is how his Jewish perspective is very like the Catholic one.

4.

If you suffer from disappearing socks while doing your laundry at home, try taking your wet laundry to the laundromat. I went from three pairs to none. Now I have to rummage in my 13 year old daughter's drawers whenever I am about to leave the house and don't feel like going sockless in my snow boots. Now I know why she emerges from her room in seventeen seconds after I send her in there to put away her clothes. I also found where my can opener went. Still better than finding food in a dresser drawer. Months-old food. It has happened.

5.

Lent has been very Lent-ish this year. Dear friends and family that really need prayers! Please add my intentions for them to your prayers whenever you think of me going around sockless with no can opener. But there really are some heavy needs, besides mine. We also STILL have not received our tax return, even though it has been the prescribed 21 days. sigh. We just want to pay some bills! And I am beginning to dream about cookies. But those will have to wait till Easter. I would at least like to be able to start gathering the ingredients to do my Easter baking. Then I can see that we are getting closer! Some people read daily Lenten spiritual readings as a count down, I pore over Easter bread and ricotta pie recipes. To each his own.

6.

What do you do for St. Patrick's day?  We have corned beef and cabbage, and some years I make Irish potatoes. My daughter Corrie's birthday is the 17th, so we mash up her birthday with St. P's day. This year, we are including the flea bag cat , as he is a year in March. Malaika figures he is a ginger (he is orange) so he must be Irish. And thankfully it falls on a Sunday, so yes, once again, food.

7.

Well, I am off to the laundromat, with mismatched borrowed socks, in the falling snow, feeling itchy because I brought up THAT subject, feeling a little irritated with the IRS, and a little worried, too. How Lenten. But also thankful for my husband carrying out the 400 pounds of wet laundry in the snow earlier, to save me at least one trip. And that I can go to the novena mass tonight, thereby saving me from missing mass altogether. And for being offered a part time job cooking for the IHM sisters at our parish. Every little bit helps. I will probably have some tales about that!



You friends and loved ones--know that I am praying for you, even as I blunder about. Love you!

a summer ramble

  The warm weather and approaching summer season always make me want to do certain things. Just like spring gives me the cleaning bug, summer still to me is about reading lots of books, preferably outside in the sun, and most preferably near a body of water. Right now, this amounts to sitting out on our back patio, roughly the size of a powder room, with the hose running over my feet. My flower bed and a few other potted flowers help the scenery out a bit, (the mint adding to a nice smell in the breeze), but really, my mind does most of the work in creating a little oasis. All it takes is; 1. the book and a towel or chair, 2. some nice smelling sun oil or lotion, 3. a cold drink, and of course, some water. I even enjoy smell of the water on the cement.

All of this takes me right to my backyard on Crescent Ave. It also reminds me of my mother, who, God rest her soul, had a routine she followed for summer that went something like this. 1. Always up by 7AM no matter what, washed, dressed, makeup on.  Mornings she would do housework, watch maybe a game show on tv, then mid morning, get her bathing suit on and go out to the pool. We got a 4 foot above ground pool when I was about seven years old. My mom was actually kind of afraid of water that was over her head or if she couldn't hold on to something, but loved water in general. We have a picture of her when she was somewhere in her 30's sitting on a raft in the ocean. The funny part of it, I was told, was that the water under her was about a foot deep.

Anyway, I associate my mother and those summer days with sun, water, and the smell of suntan lotion. We had a row of chairs down the side of the yard, and like you may have "your" chair in the living room, she sure did have hers out in the yard. A little side table for drinks and snacks. Definitely no umbrella! No sir. We were out there to get sun, not avoid it. Her skin turned a deep reddish brown every year. We have Native American ancestry, mixed in with the Irish and German from my dad's side. I get that color too, only not as dark as she. I would sit out too, with a book, or even float around the pool on a raft with said book. I only dropped them in once or twice in my Reading While Floating career.

When I got a little older, I took over the morning vacuuming  of the pool; balancing on the edge and walking around. Many days I would take an early swim. I eventually became a competitive swimmer, and still enjoy lap swimming whenever I can. (though the swimming I did in that pool was more like turning practice).

Funny, my parents never pushed me to get a summer job, though eventually I did, especially the summer before college. I still feel the need to slow the pace when the kids get out of school. We always frequent the library more and attempt to get to a pool whenever possible. The city pools are eh, so-so, but worth whatever unpleasantness if it gets us a swim.


It's nice to feel that connection to my mother and my growing up years, and I guess she instilled in me well the beauty of the summer outdoors. The fish part I think just developed. I also seem to need the quiet, the time alone, as much as the location and setting.

This, of course, is the ultimate in sun/book/chair therapy. Whenever it can be achieved, go for it.

But for now, this

plus this

 here

Is just fine.

for your reflection

In Lenten terms, I hope I am as close to blooming as these are!

I thought I would share a few of the passages that have jumped out at me during my Lenten reading these past weeks.

This one is very reassuring, to those of us still working out the knots; from Francis De Sales' Introduction to the Devout Life.

   A slow cure, as the maxim says, is always surest. Diseases of the soul as well as those of the body come posting on horseback but leave slowly and on foot.

And, from The Imitation of Christ, by Thomas à Kempis,

The Value of Adversity

It is good for us to have trials and troubles at times, for they often remind us that we are on probation and ought not to hope in any worldly thing. It is good for us sometimes to suffer contradiction, to be misjudged by men even though we do well and mean well. These things help us to be humble and shield us from vainglory. When to all outward appearances men give us no credit, when they do not think well of us, then we are more inclined to seek God Who sees our hearts. Therefore, a man ought to root himself so firmly in God that he will not need the consolations of men.

When a man of good will is afflicted, tempted, and tormented by evil thoughts, he realizes clearly that his greatest need is God, without Whom he can do no good. Saddened by his miseries and sufferings, he laments and prays. He wearies of living longer and wishes for death that he might be dissolved and be with Christ. Then he understands fully that perfect security and complete peace cannot be found on earth.

 I admit, I have never gotten to the point of wishing for death. I have, though, realized that during times of trial, I do "lament and pray," and when things are swimming along, I sometimes forget God in my daily moment to moment. I do seem to have a pretty steady flow of things to keep me praying, so God has my number on that point.


I also was strangely touched by Chapter 23,Thoughts on Death. I have a version that has Old English. Sometimes it emphasizes the meanings of the words. I linked the modern version. I don't understand yet why that chapter grabbed me.

Blessings and Peace, 

Kelly

Noise

Today was another summer Monday, which basically means that it was a day without much of a plan. It also happens that I am currently reading a rather gripping novel, so whatever I know I should be doing is always competing with the book. I tend to consume books during the summer. While I did put away a good portion of it--I also was attempting to "accomplish" things (those "shoulds") in between reading sessions.  I did get laundry, vacuuming, floor washing and the ever present dinner cooking done, and of course all the many miscellaneous in between things.

But this was one of those days that there was too much noise and not enough silence. Not the external kind-the nagging static that keeps up a constant inner rumble that goes like this. "If you lie here reading too long before showering and dressing, the likelihood that there will be some disaster requiring a quick retreat into the street will increase a hundredfold."  As I was imagining myself out there in my ratty pj's and not enough undergarments, I dropped my book and didn't want to get up and lie back down again, plus my neck was starting to hurt. I promised myself I could sit back down afterward with a nice cup of coffee, and that was bribery enough. The only problem was that, once in the shower, I saw the bathroom needed scrubbing, and on the way back to my room, I spotted the dirty laundry pile in the hallway, and if that wasn't enough, upon opening my door, I saw with new eyes the accumulating piles of papers and (yes) books...sigh. I hadn't even gone downstairs yet.

Most days I can take the daily to do list in stride and can reason with the noisy demanding tyrant in my mind, by talking with God, going to a daily mass if possible, praying the rosary and getting the priorities of the universe in order. And the inner quietness that results is nothing short of a symphony. A quiet one.  


I learned many years ago that if I focus on the Lord, He will keep me focused on the best thing on any given day. The best thing is rarely a thing and almost always a person. Most days those persons are my kids. Yes there will always be the washing, cooking, the dreaded shopping--but if I have not forgotten God, somehow, I can do that stuff, be present to the people around me, and still get a chunk of time to read my book. Is it magical? Sometimes. Mostly it isn't, it is me learning that His yoke is easy and His burden is light.  Following Him in the little workings of my day brings a peace and settled calm that helps things to flow. Fighting against Him and wanting my own priorities, served up in my own way, brings that sluggish, feet- in- the- mud feeling. As I am frequently a person with cement between the ears, I relearn this all the time. Thankfully, He is patient and forbearing.

Here are two reasons to be faithful to my vocation.

Nuff said?

Today's snippet of hilarity  is brought to you by--"The Things that happen when the floor is freshly scrubbed", otherwise known as Murphy's Third Law of Kitchen Floors. 
Last week was Rachael's seventeenth birthday (Rachael pictured above looking very grown up indeed) (Ben just turned fifteen, if you can believe that--) and I scrubbed and polished the sticky, take- the -flip- flop-right- off- your- foot, kitchen floor. It looked good for a day or two.  Enter the Willing-to-help-in-Any-Way Husband. I asked if he would put some sugar in the jug of iced tea, the kind with the little spout at the bottom. Of course, no problem! Well, except this problem. After the sugar is added, he put it in the freezer to chill quickly, and closed the door. I thank whatever heavenly force that prompted him to open the door a few minutes later and see that the freezer door had pushed the cute and handy little spout, holding it open for roughly half the tea to flow out into the bottom of the freezer. He good-naturedly proceeded to clean it up, but not before a fair amount of sugary tea found its way to the now only somewhat shiny floor. (this is time number two that this exact thing happened to him-- he was officially relieved of tea-duty).

Fast forward to today, the floor by now has suffered many other injustices, but it is not all the way back to the barnyard state yet, so as I mentioned before, I tore myself away from my book and scrubbed it up again.( I have extensive experience with the Law of the Freshly Scrubbed floor. Over the years my shiny floors have attracted such things as,  a knocked over ten pound bag of sugar, a toddler "helping" mix up a batch of banana bread batter that somehow flew off the counter, clouds of flour, and of course, the ultimate magnet, the Sticky Drink).  As we sat at the table after dinner, my charming husband gallantly offered to make the after dinner pot of coffee. He did so while telling jokes, but my eye was on him putting things on the edge of the counter. The coffee basket (thankfully still empty) first, and then the entire large container of coffee itself, perched half on and half off the counter. I yelled out, in defense of my floor, interrupting one of the jokes, and again! Saved. Whew. So while the coffee is gurgling along, I retreat to the computer and he decides to take out the trash, (not his favorite job, whose favorite anything ever involves handling trash?) Next thing I know there is yelling. I have forgotten to properly empty out the box of pancake mix before putting it in the recycling bin. He is apparently wearing what puffed out of the bottom of the box while he crushed it to fit more neatly in the bin. (We are very ardent recyclers). The kids took the brunt of the blame. I said nothing. He later confessed he realized I had been the pancake chef over the weekend.( which I am proud of, they were good). After all was said and done, you know it--the Law of the Freshly Scrubbed Floor had its way after all. Just goes to show you that you really can't argue with one of the really intent lessons of housecleaning. It is never done.