To Refuse Him Nothing

February 25, 2009 at 1:10 am (Dying to Self, Lent, Mother Teresa)

Tomorrow is  Ash Wednesday. Hard to believe it’s the end of February and Lent is already here.

Lately, I’ve found myself re-visiting the writings of Mother Teresa as well as her Patroness, St. Therese of Lisieux. I think I did the same thing last year at the beginning of Lent. It must have something to do with how these two women truly understand what self-abandonment and sacrificial love mean. They were both so in love with Jesus that they held nothing back from Him. Their lives on earth were testaments to what it means to die to one’s self-love and personal desires in order to love him and the people around them. Mother Teresa even made a vow in this regard; a vow to refuse Him nothing.

On the surface it sounds so simple. How often I’ve said I will surrender everything to God. The words are easy to speak but to live them, to abandon myself so completely that I refuse Him nothing nor resist Him in any way, that’s another thing entirely. I want to love Him so much that I would do His will no matter the cost to my pride, my plans, my comfort, my deepest desires. But, the truth is I am weak and more often than not I wrestle with God before I finally submit to his will. I have journals full of conversations with God that reveal just how hard my flesh will fight to hold onto what it desires. Over the years I’ve learned to give up and go fewer rounds with God but sadly my selfish resistence often results in sin that comes in the form of  missed opportunities to love others.  These small opportunities to love are the very thing that Mother Teresa was convinced Jesus wanted most from us.

To the good God nothing is little…He stoops down and takes the trouble to make those little things for us–to give us a chance to prove our love for him…Yes my dear children, be faithful in little practices of love, of little sacrifices–of the little interior mortification–of little fidelities which build in you the life of holiness and make you Christ-like…So do not look for big things, just do small things with great love. (Mother Teresa)

As I think about Lent and the ways in which I might sacrifice during this season my spirit wants to refuse Him nothing. I want to stop wrestling with God and submit my will the first time He asks (in the big stuff and the small stuff).  My flesh, however, is another story.  This makes giving up dessert and Blue Moon look like a piece of cake (bad pun fully intended).

Actually, this isn’t something I would want to say lightly to God. It’s only by grace that any of us even desire to surrender and it’s only by grace that we ever choose His will over our own selfish desires. So as I begin my Lenten journey I think I’ll start by asking for grace–the grace to learn what it means to die to self for the next forty days (and the rest of my life).  

 

 

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Stories

February 20, 2009 at 8:16 pm (Prayer, community, mass)

My pastor often comments on the fact that our parish community is full of stories: Stories of God’s grace, stories of grief and heartache, stories of promise and hope and ultimately love stories between us and our Savior. He references this so often that now I can’t help but sit in Mass (especially daily Mass) and look at my brother or sister sitting next to me and wonder, “What’s their story? What’s brought them here today? What are the prayers and cries of their heart?”

I’ve come to know a few of the regulars at daily Mass and I’ve learned bits and pieces of their stories, of their faith journeys with Christ.  Knowing their stories and knowing them broadens my perspective and my prayers when I’m at Mass. I’m less focused on my story and my prayer intentions and I find myself praying for those around me: For Rosanna who has a sick grandson, for Marilyn whose son is not walking with the Lord, for Gina who is discerning the call to a religious vocation, and for Joe, who I know misses his beloved Irma Lee.

My questions about some of the others in the pew next to me may never be answered but I’m glad the Holy Spirit leads me to think about them because somehow when I start thinking about their stories I become less concerned about my own. And isn’t that the way it should be? Of course when I come to Mass I have my own personal needs and prayer intentions. Sometimes they’re all I can think about. But, the liturgy really is about community prayer and not just my personal prayers.  When we celebrate the liturgy together we come to commune with God and with each other; we come to offer up prayers for all of our stories. And most importantly, we come to offer thanksgiving for our common story, the salvation story into which our God has graciously written each of us.

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Thanks Mom

February 19, 2009 at 5:21 pm (Bible, Daughters, Prayer, motherhood)

Today is my mom’s birthday so I thought I’d wish her a Happy Birthday and tell her how glad I am that God brought her into this world. I suppose I’d better be glad ’cause if she hadn’t been born then I wouldn’t be here either. Obviously the gift of life is the greatest gift my mom gave me. But, there’s another gift my mom gave me that I’m reminded of on a weekly, if not daily basis.

One of my most vivid childhood memories is waking up early for school and seeing my mom sitting in the living room reading her Bible and praying. Later when my brother went away to college I’d pass by his room where she’d sit at a desk with her Bible open, notes from her studies spilling from between its pages and usually a list of people she was praying for.  From what I can remember she did this faithfully every morning before getting ready for work.  When I was older and struggling with all the angst that came with being a teenager my mom would spend time in the morning writing a Bible verse on a 3×5 card and a short note to encourage me. She’d slip it into my backpack and I would usually find it sometime during the school day.

 My mom would tell you she’s no saint but I can’t begin to tell you the impact her prayer life and love for the Bible had on me. If there’s one thing I am sure of in this life it’s that my mom has spent countless hours on her knees in prayer for me and our family.  And I know she’s still praying and not just for us but for anyone for whom we might ask her to pray. When my sister recently called to tell my mom a dear friend of hers was in ICU after an massive heart attack my mom prayed faithfully for this man she’d never met.  When I mentioned the son of one of my closest friends might have serious vision problems my mom prayed regularly and asked about him often.  I think my mom’s prayer life is one of the greatest ways she expresses her love for her family and friends.

Not only were her prayers a great gift but I’m certain that her example has helped to form my own prayer life and love for God’s written word.  I know my faith journey would not be the same without this example. I can only hope that my girls will see that same faithfulness in me that I saw in my mom.

So Mom, this post is for you.  Today I honor you and thank you for giving me the two greatest gifts: life and the key to living this life, knowing and loving God through prayer and His Word.  I love you and I hope you have a very happy birthday. Oh, and please note that I was a good daughter and didn’t announce your age.  :-)

 

That's my mom with Claire on Christmas morning

That's my mom with Claire on Christmas morning 2008.

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Hide and Seek

February 16, 2009 at 1:07 pm (Advice to my children, Daughters, Love, Marriage)

A woman’s heart should be so hidden in God that a man has to seek Him just to find her.

-Max Lucado

 

Dear Claire and Ella:

Today you’re too young to fully understand this quote. Right now you’re far more interested in jumping on the trampoline with your daddy and playing hide and seek with your friends than you are in matters of love. But, when you are older, should you decide that God is calling you to married life, I want you to remember this quote and bind its truth to your heart.

There will come a time when men will seek after your heart and try to win it with their charm and the things of this world. And when they do, remember this, you are a beloved daughter of God, hidden in Christ Jesus. And this is where your heart should be–hidden in Christ and set upon the treasures of heaven. 

If you hide your heart in Christ you will not be impressed by men with earthly treasures. You will not be swept off your feet by vain ambition and temporal attraction. If you hide your heart in Christ He will rescue you from such worldy distractions as well as the pain and disappointment that comes from following after them.

My beautiful daughters guard your precious hearts and heed the wisdom in these words… hide your heart so deeply in Jesus so that only a man who seeks first Christ and his Kingdom will ever have a chance of finding it.

Love,

Mom 

 

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‘Til Death Do Us Part

February 14, 2009 at 12:07 am (Dying to Self, Love, St. Francis De Sales)

Self-love dies only with our body.

St. Francis de Sales

 

I read this quote from one of my favorite saints before siting down to catch up on folding a week’s worth of laundry (don’t ask how I got behind by a whole week).  So I’m folding away while thinking about how when I die one thing I won’t miss doing is laundry and the sad fact that only when I die will I be rid of this flesh and the self-love that comes with it.  Yes, laundry and self-love have deep spiritual connections.

Actually, dealing with my self-love is a lot like trying to get all my laundry done. As soon as I think everything is clean, folded and neatly put away  I look down and realize the clothes I’m wearing still need to be washed. The pervasiveness of my self-love is just like the over flowing laundry basket in my house.  And both never cease to amaze me. Just when I think I’ve conquered some aspect of this self-love I find it rearing its ugly head in another area of my life. It’s that struggle that St. Paul talks about in Romans 7:21-23…

So I find this law at work: When I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God’s law but I see another law at work in the members of my body, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within my members.

Could he be talking about self-love? After all, what’s at the root of most sin: self-love and pride, right? It’s always right there inviting you to choose self over others, self over self-sacrifice, self instead of the obedience that comes from a deep abiding faith in Jesus.  

It would be easy to get discouraged by the fact that self-love will be with us until the day we die (as well as the fact the laundry will never really be done). But, St. Paul reminds us that there’s something else going on in this battle inside.  I like what he says about his inner most being delighting in God’s law. I’ve clung to that truth many times in my faith journey. It’s my saving grace –this desire to delight in God that sits deep within my soul. It’s the thing that keeps drawing me to Him with true repentance and keeps me fighting for true love when self-love wages war against my heart and mind.

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gift from a friend…Gift from the Sea

February 12, 2009 at 2:40 am (Contemplative Living)

starfish on the beach

For my birthday a new friend and kindred spirit gave me a copy of Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s book Gift from the Sea.  Though written fifty years ago I’d never heard of it before. The book is the result of  the author’s experience while spending a month alone in a cottage on the beach in Captiva Island, FL. 

I happen to love the beach and the water and I’m fond of Captiva Island so the idea of spending a month there in an old beach cottage by myself with nothing to do but read, write and sit and listen to the waves sounds wonderful to me. Of course it also sounds like a distant dream which is why the origin of this book intrigued me. I mean if I can’t do it, I might as well glean something from the heart of one who has.

I sat down to read this book, not surprisingly, after I’d spent the day at the beach last Sunday. I was hooked after reading the opening paragraph.

The beach is not the place to work; to read, write or think. I should have remembered that from other years. Too warm, too damp, too soft for any real mental discipline or sharp flights of spirit. One never learns. Hopefully, one carries down the faded straw bag, lumpy with books, clean paper, long overdue unanswered letters, freshly sharpened pencils, lists of good intentions. The books remain unread, the pencils break their points and the pads rest smooth and unblemished as the cloudless sky. No reading, no writing, no thoughts even–at least, not at first.

This is me. The bag full of books, notes I intend to write and send to distant friends, the new journal I plan to fill with all my thoughts, prayers and dreams, I carry it with me to the beach on each summer vacation with great expectations. But those expectations are rarely met.  At least not in the span of the few days I usually spend at the beach. There’s too much to “undo” before I can “do” at the beach. Too much emptying of my heart and mind that must happen before I can read those books and fill all those journal pages.  Lindbergh says it far more eloquently than I…

At first, the tired body takes over completely…Rollers on the beach, wind on the pines, the slow flapping herons across and dunes, drown out the hectic rhythms of city and suburb, time tables and schedules. One falls under their spell, relaxes, stretches out prone. One becomes, in fact, like the element on which one lies, flattened by the sea; bare, open, empty as the beach, erased by today’s tides of all yesterday’s scribblings.

How true this is for me. It always takes the few days I have to get to that empty place. Sadly, my time at the beach is too short. Before I know it, the time comes to drag that bag, which is now full of sand and seashells, back to the car and head home. But if only I could stay. What might happen with those books, those journals, what might happen in my heart and mind  if I had that next week? Perhaps I would discover…  

Some morning in the second week, the mind wakes, comes to life again. Not in a city sense – no- but beach-wise. It begins to drift, to play, to turn over in gentle careless rolls like those lazy waves on the beach. One never knows what chance treasures these easy unconscious rollers may toss up…

Treasure. That’s what I’m expecting to find as I carry my bag down to the beach. I’m looking for those treaures you find once the tide has come in and then gone out.  I suppose my problem is I’m looking for them too soon. I’m looking for them while the tide is still high. I need time for the water to recede, for the beach to be laid bare with all it’s treasures to behold.

O what I could do with a whole month alone at the beach–a month to sit with my toes in the sand, to not read but then read, to stop thinking so that I could think clearly.

My practical and realistic brain says dream on….

My contemplative heart does just that.

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One for the Road

February 9, 2009 at 11:36 pm (Family, Family Traditions)

Yesterday was gorgeous here in Florida. One of those winter days the Sunshine State is famous for. After a week of record breaking cold it was a welcomed relief and it was about time.

It’s also about time for our regular winter/spring Sunday beach outings to start up again. This is one of my favorite family traditions: Sunday Mass, family brunch and then off to the beach for some R & R. Well, I get some R&R, Scott usually gets to bury his little girls in the sand and toss them around in the water. The water was a bit cold this Sunday but the girls still kept him busy.

Our beach tradition starts with loading the car with every beach toy we own. Then the girls buckle up, put the windows down and request their favorite tune for the road trip. Gotta’ love the fact that the drive really only takes about one song and then we’re at the beach.

Their favorite tune to jam out to is Matt Maher’s Grace is Enough. Their second favorite was their one request for the road this Sunday. Claire prefers to sing while Ella moves and grooves.  My two drama queens/rock stars requested I put a link to the song on my blog, so here it is. [Note: Duffy's performance isn't nearly as good as Claire's and Ella's but it'll  have to do]. 

[To  my northern friends: Build that next snowman for us. We'll build a sandcastle for you.]

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Grace in Disguise

February 6, 2009 at 9:20 pm (Carrying your cross, Grace)

You desire to rid your life of the cross you carry and fill this emptiness you feel.  But what if this cross, this trial with its emptiness, are graces God has given you to help see your need of him? Is it possible that the very things you desire to get rid of are his gifts to you? Gifts that when opened and explored reveal the depth of his mercy and love because they make you to long for and seek the one true lover of your soul.

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Lordy, Lordy…

February 5, 2009 at 10:03 pm (Children, Family)

I woudn’t describe myself as an early riser but somehow I’ve gotten into this early morning schedule where I wake up at 5:00. This morning, since I was already up, I decided to leave my comfortable chair by the fireplace where I like to read and venture out into the cold weather to go to the 7:00 am Mass. [Note:  It was 33 degrees this morning -- that's just too cold for Florida and for this Florida girl.]

Now no matter how tired I am or how early it is, I never regret going to Mass (except maybe the time it was pouring down rain and the girls and I were soaking wet by the time we made it to the church doors. Not sure what I was thinking on that day). So, despite the really cold weather–I wore my coat and scarf the whole time– Mass was worth it. 

Feeling at peace and ready to face the day I left the church and headed out to the parking lot to meet Scott and transfer the girls from his car to mine.  Normally during this transfer I’m met with some moans from my seven year old about how I made her get out of bed early to come meet me (she’s practicing for when she’s a sleep-deprived teen). If Claire isn’t moaning then my feisty five year old lets me know she’s starving and  has yet to eat breakfast.  But in the back of my mind I’m thinking today is going to be different. Today, afterall, is my birthday. Surely their dad has coached them and told that today they ought to give some appropriate loving birthday greeting to their mom.

Sure enough, the girls are wide awake and ready to greet me. Claire bursts from the car with a stack of handmade cards and wishes me a happy birthday. How sweet. Now it’s Ella’s turn. What sweetness will my youngest offspring bring to this day? With a big grin and her loud voice Ella shouts out…

Lordy, Lordy, look who’s forty!

I look at Scott. He’s trying not to laugh and gives me this look that says I have no idea where she got that from. So much for dad’s coaching.  I look at Claire who is looking at Ella with her big sister knows more than little sister look. She promptly steps in to be my hero and to set the record straight…

Hey Ella, you’re wrong. She’s not forty yet. She’s thirty-nine. She’ll be old next year. Right Mom?

Uh well, thanks for clarifying things Claire. 

So, I’m not old yet.  According to my firstborn I have one more year to be young. Well, 364 days to be exact…but who’s counting? :-)

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