Pontificating

I was raised Catholic. Today, I'm an actual, practicing, Catholic. In some circles, I'm not near Catholic enough. I'm not sure where the grading scale is or who is the "decider" of our quantity or quality of Catholicism. I don't worry about it too much.  The Arch Mother, who raised money to build their parish church, worked for Catholic Charities, and hosted half the Archdiocese in their home, never had time for people who wanted to "judge" your level of faith.

I know who I am and what I believe. But I do understand that the Catholic church is dealing with an identity crisis - too many people associate it with scandal and decadence and not enough with social service and faith. 

Yesterday when it was announced that white smoke was drifting above the Vatican in Rome, I had an emotional response.  Honestly, a startling response. I stopped my car and sat quietly in a parking lot listening to the media reports. For me, it was a stark reminder of how deeply I care about my faith and my church family.

When the kids got home from school, we concluded it would be fun to make Argentinian food in honor of Pope Francis for dinner. Great!  Except while I love to cook - Latin influenced food has not been a big part of my repertoire (ANY part of my repertoire).

I Googled some recipes, decided that I didn't have time to reinvent the wheel and it was a bright, sunny, March afternoon (to my Minnesotan mind it looked warm).  So the four kids and I grabbed our coats, scooters and walked to the grocery story.  My thought was that while last minute Argentinian food was probably unreasonable at the end of my busy day, we could at least find some good Latin options.

No dice.  Actually, no Chimichurri. Our local grocery store, considers tacos and salsa to be the extent of their Latin foods. Maybe it's silly, but I was shocked.  Scratch that. Decided we'd go home and watch the news coverage of the new Pope while we ate our decidedly NOT Latin dinner.

Hmmm. By 6:15 pm, the bright, March afternoon was significantly chillier. The return mile from the grocery store was a lot quieter and significantly quicker.  If we could have cut through people's yards, we would have.

Arrive home! Turn on TV! American Idol? Survivor? No pope. Damn our cable free household! So I grab my laptop determined to make the kids see how fascinating the election of a new pope can be (and hoping to distract them from the slow turn towards exhausted meltdown that mom is taking - might I mention that I washed all the sheets in the house and had yet to return them to their rightful beds).   I find the clips of the new Pope's first waves and comments, finally relieved that some part of this memory making plan is working out. 

We watch for about an minute, listening to the calming translation of his Italian, when my middle son says:

"Who is that guy?"

"It's the new Pope, Jorge Maria Bergoglio, Pope Francis," I say.

"Umm, no it's not," says he.

"Yes, honey. It is. See - that's why he's standing in the balcony waving to the people in Rome."

"You're wrong. The principal told us that the new Pope was father Mark."

Father Mark is our parish priest who is very involved in our parochial school.  He's well known to the kids and we've had him a few times to the house for dinner. Clearly there had been some confusion at school and so my son was absolutely, positively certain that the principal, whom he views with reverence, had told him that Father Mark was the new Pope.

"Nope, Buddy.  Father Mark isn't the new Pope, he's not a Cardinal and he's not in Rome."

"Right, but you said the new Pope didn't have to be a Cardinal."

He was right.  I did tell him that. What I didn't say was that of course the new Pope would be a Cardinal. While the church could break with tradition, no one expected it to do so.

My son was terribly disappointed by Pope Francis.  He did not look near as young or as cool as father Mark. I made a note to call the priest and let him know that at least one person thought he deserved a promotion.

I have been critical of the Catholic Church, my most popular entry on this blog, deals with some of my struggles, and yet I found myself defensive yesterday. Listening to the critical chatter on Facebook and Twitter about "another scandalous, conservative Pope." The lines and lines of judgement without any real sense of information or experience. I was surprise by how strongly I reacted.

One poor friend got a real diatribe from me because she said she was hopeful but concerned about this new Pope and the direction of the church.

Pope Francis will have neither a perfect history nor perfect future. He is human. But because we are human, we can be honest and still be hopeful; we can be forgiving and still forthright. And so I agree with my friend. We are called to face every day and every situation with hope and concern, if we can promise to always live to this standard, everything would probably turn out better, both for our church and in our world.

We must view the church with our intellectual talents, our honest hearts and our open minds. For the first time in a long time, I feel how true this really is, and I feel we have a renewed opportunity to receive the Holy Spirit. 

Discrimination, abuse and the role of women in the church are not issues that will be solved tomorrow - but with faith and our own energy - we have a better chance today of leaving our children and grandchildren a church that is a beautiful instrument of love, light, joy and peace.

So, while Pope Francis is not Father Mark, he is a fresh step in a new faith future. We, Catholics, must take that step, that first hopeful and concerned new beginning, together. 

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace,

Where there is hatred, let me sow love;

Where there is injury, pardon;

Where there is doubt, faith;

Where there is despair, hope;

Where there is darkness, light;

Where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master,

grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console;

to be understood, as to understand;

to be loved, as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive.

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,

and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.

Amen.

January Ruminations

I've been wanting to lighten up some of my writing lately, but I keep coming back to this kind of basic January writing, its darker, colder.  In January I find myself more introspective, more focused on uncovering, digging. I spent some time today going back through my personal blog - the private one I write mostly for my kids. Almost exactly five years ago, I wrote this essay. It was on the heals of my 59 year old father-in-laws sudden death, which was unfortunately only ten months after the sudden death of his 32 year-old son (my husband's only brother).  A lot has changed in the last five years - my sister-in-law has found a beautiful love again and had another baby. We've added a fourth child, named after his uncle and grandfather. We've made some peace with the realization that loss is as much a part of life as love is. If you've read other posts, you'll see some common themes. Thought I'd share... - BTH

So I've been ruminating about a lot of things these last two weeks, thinking about how we'll talk to the kids when they're older about the events of the last year. I wonder all the time how much they will remember - how all of this affects kids even when they don't have formal memories. And one of the hardest things for me to accept is that for the first time I've felt an absence of God at times. I've felt empty, cried out, exhausted and fearful. It's a bit hard to admit, but it is the truth. I've had a hard time wanting to try and focus in mass, I couldn't tell you what the homily was about at my father in laws funeral, I couldn't really listen.

This doesn't mean we haven't been praying. Every night before we go to sleep, my husband and I say a prayer together, reflecting over the day, our blessings and our future. And that act has helped us, to relax, to let go, to refocus. But I've found myself a little angry during the day. Angry about what we've lost, angry that I know this isn't the last heartbreak, for the first time I think I really saw that life is as much about loss as it is about love. I've been wondering how God thinks we're going to get through this - and whatever else comes our way. I cannot look at the sorrow on my husbands face without feeling truly helpless and a little sick. I've been trying to be really positive, but I just haven't felt it.

Yesterday while I was feeling a little desperate and maybe a little sorry for myself, I had a quiet moment of renewed Grace. I was thinking about the things I've learned in the last year.

• There is no right thing to say when someone dies. Send a card, a note, flowers, memorials, don't try and say the right thing, just let them know you care and you're available.
• Relaying your own horror story doesn't help people feel better - they know they are not alone in their suffering, but having to bare yours too is just too much at the beginning.
• Ask people how they are - take the moment to give someone the opportunity to talk or to move on. Really care. Really listen. You never know how "Are you OK?" might change the future.The Athlete  helped save a neighbor's life about 6 weeks ago because he paused and asked if he was OK and then stayed with him and called an ambulance. He has a wife and three daughters who had a husband and father at Christmas.
• Grief makes people tired and feel like they aren't themselves. Sometime I look at my husband and he looks winded - like he's running a race.
• You cannot reinvent your past, the choices in your history are just history. Today's opportunities are the only things that really counts.
• We all need help. No one can get by alone.
• Be gentle with yourself and the people around you - we're all doing the best we can - and sometimes it isn't enough, but sometimes it is.
• When someone asks you for help, don't hesitate, say yes. You can always figure out the logistics, but sometimes all the other person need to hear is "yes". It is probably harder for the person to ask for help than it is for you to do the favor.
• If someone shows up at your front door unexpectedly, maybe God thinks you need a push in the right direction.
• A robed man with a beard and a Shepard's pole is for illustrated children's books - in my experience there is no lightening bolt, no burning bushes. God's hands are in people who show up to stand behind you, beside you and if need be, to carry you when you cannot bare it yourself.

And I thought about all the help we've received (and even more that has been offered), all the people who have arrived at the kitchen door with chili, lasagna, pizza, chicken, pasta, and chicken noodle soup. Our core babysitter,  brought over cookies and wouldn't take any money on Saturday night when she babysat. She's a junior in high school and she told us, 'I just thought you needed a night out'. And all the people who I can tell are heartbroken for us - when you talk to someone and you can tell they just bleed for you - somehow that's comforting.

And that's where my moment of Grace happened. I felt stronger. I don't mean to make it sound like I'm wrapping up grief neatly - sadness and loss are very messy stuff - but I'm starting to remember that the hand of God is covered in the love of the people around you. And the only way forward is to receive Grace when it shows up or calls and to be Grace when you know you can.

Family Pact

Even with all my good intentions, the first day back to school after winter break didn't go so well for my nine-year-old son. I can't put my finger on it, nor can he, but he came home with droopy eyes and a heavy heart.

He said something on the trip home from school that really resonated with me. At first I thought he meant it in a positive way, as an affirmation of his sense of identity.  But a quick glance at his slumped shoulders and hanging head showed me that, in reality, he was feeling beaten down.

"I'm not easily categorized," he said.

He's a smart, sensitive kid, seemingly older than he is, very social, very extroverted. I realized he was thinking about how he fits in, how he finds his place at school (and sometimes in our very own family). I love this about him - he is a kid who helps me see myself in new and more compassionate ways. I wish everyone had a kid like this. Do you see it if you do?

I had to write a short bio recently and it took me ages. I couldn't for the life of me think about how to describe myself.  Am I first a mother? A wife? A writer? An entrepreneur? A daughter? It gave me a crisis of confidence that I couldn't come up with something to say about myself. Exactly who am I in a few sentences? My son caught me staring at the computer and walked over, smooched me and went back to his book. Crisis averted.  It didn't matter what the words said.  Maybe I didn't know what to call myself, but I definitely know who I am.

During our chat yesterday, I related a story to my son about a conversation I had a few weeks ago with a childhood friend. Our kids are in school together now and we've gotten back in touch. After a few beers at a fundraiser, we got to reminiscing about high school. We knew each other from grade school, but as we got into high school we didn't spend much time together.

I love the friends that I made in high school, but I remember it as a hard time in my life, probably the lowest point for my self-esteem. I never felt cool. I thought that I was missing out on some joke.  I told this friend that, from a distance, he was someone who looked like he hit his stride in high school.  He had lots of new friends; he was a good athlete, etc. His wife overheard our conversation and laughed at me.

"High school was really a terrible time for him."

"Really?" I said. "I would have thought you were very Rah Rah about high school."

He felt lonely and often isolated. He felt like he didn't fit in. He went on to tell me that I was a specific example of someone whom he thought thrived in high school.  I was one of those people he envied. He even said the dreaded word: popular.

"Me?"

In sharing this story with him, I wanted my son to understand that how you feel and how you appear don’t always align. He shrugged his shoulders at me.

"I know, Mom, I know."

My kids are starting to try and identify themselves outside of the family unit and I can't do it for them.  They have to find the way themselves.  From our own experiences, we know it won't always be easy.  In fact, sometimes (but hopefully not most of the time) it will be miserable.

This morning, in case I was going to waver, I got a more firm indication that this is true. I couldn't remember the word my son had used to describe how he felt yesterday, and so I asked him again.  He reminded me and then asked why I was asking. I told him that he had gotten me thinking.

"I don't want you to fix it for me, Mom."

Ouch. Am I that obvious? But, he's right. He's totally right.

Family is like a pact. We take a vow very similar to marriage when we have kids.  And just like a marriage vow, you don't know how important it all is until you're in the midst of it. It's not a command or a decree. It's an agreement to be present through thick and thin.

I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life. I take you to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.

We didn't promise to fix their problems; we didn't promise to fight their battles; we didn't promise to protect them from everything bad or hurtful in the world. We promised to be true. We promised to love them. We promised to respect them and support them. We promised to stand by them in good times and in bad.

I'm going to have these vows printed and framed. My husband and I said them at our wedding more than 12 years ago, and we've lived them pretty well ever since. Today is the first day that I see these vows are so much bigger than a single promise, so much more complicated than just between two adults. We made this same promise to our kids on the day they were born. We just didn't have to say it out loud.

On Marriage (an open letter to my children)

I'm writing this to you today because by the time you care about reading these words, you'll know how this upcoming vote will have turned out. You'll have the perspective that the passing of time offers. I don't know if you'll agree with us. I don't know how the world will look from where you are sitting at that point, but it is important for me to tell you that we've never taken the subject of marriage and family lightly, that we have reflected deeply on what is happening around us.

In a few weeks, the state of Minnesota will hold an election. As part of the election, the government is asking voters to define marriage in our constitution as a union between one man and one woman. We are not the first state to have this kind of vote - and the states before us have all passed these kinds of voter referendums.

Your dad and I have what lots of people think of as a traditional life. We married young, we are practicing Catholics, we've welcomed kids enthusiastically into our lives (you're welcome). Dad works and Mom stays home (for the most part). We pay our bills, pay our taxes, vote in every election, volunteer at school, at church and in our community. We are a forever marriage. I have no doubt about that.

Sexuality is something that people often have a hard time talking about - partly because it is private and partly because it is sacred. But as your parents, it is something that we believe is important to talk about, to think about and to understand.

Dad and I believe that God made each of us in God's own image, which is something that seems impossible to fully grasp. It is too big a concept to understand. Since creation, people have been trying to find ways to simplify it into words or concepts that the masses can understand, but I'm confident we cannot get it right. We are not meant to know all things, to see all things, to fully understand all things. That is the crux of faith. We must trust God without being sure of all the answers.

I have watched all four of you take your first breath of air. It is miraculous - simply miraculous. I think of you all as presents we waited for breathlessly. We didn't pick out characteristics, gender, temperament. We just received you into our lives and felt immense gratitude. I know that you are all different - so different - from each other, even though you've all been raised by the same parents, housed in the same home, schooled in the same places. But - I have never doubted that you are unique reflections of an omnifaceted God.

We believe part of that reflection of God is your unique and precious sexuality. Most people are heterosexual, but some are homosexual, and it is our belief that they are both reflections of - and gifts from - God.

This belief goes against what our current Catholic Church teaches. For a long time, we've been listening to our church leadership speak about the dangers of embracing equality in our understandings of sexuality. The church currently believes that homosexuality is a sin and should never be acted upon or encouraged.

This is all very tricky for your dad and me. We believe sexuality is precious, nothing to be exploited or used lightly. We believe in monogamy. We believe that sex is meant to be shared as a connection between two people who love and respect each other. Sex is certainly not the most important part of marriage, but it absolutely is a big part. It is a part that has to be nurtured like anything else. It's hard for people to be honest about sex - it make us uncomfortable to talk about it. But the truth is that God created sex just like everything else. As long as we're treating ourselves and our bodies respectfully, we shouldn't feel shameful about it.

And so that has led us to struggle with the church. But let me be very clear: we struggle, but we do not lose faith. The church is a reflection of our humanity. It is a growing, living and changing entity. It is not a building or a city in Rome. It is a collection of tiny reflections of God. But we are not God. We make mistakes, and our understandings change with time. Our interpretations also change as our knowledge base expands.

Many people would lead you to believe that the world is spinning into a dark and dangerous time, but Dad and I believe the opposite. Our world actually values life and love in a much more significant way than it did 500 years ago. We are starting to see that we are partners in this world with cultures very different than our own. God gave us this one planet - this one life. We are starting to see it for what it is - a diverse and beautiful collection of people rooted together by our very creation, by our first breath of air. Absolutely there is sin and darkness in the world, and as we said at your baptisms, your charge in this world is to see through the darkness, to find the light, in fact to be the light.

When I was a child, the church was going through the final process of allowing for girls to become altar servers. It had been forbidden for many years, but as the church's understanding of women's roles evolved, eventually girls were allowed to serve mass with a priest. Still today, the language of the church allows for a priest or a bishop to refuse to have female altar servers, but they are not forbidden to do it anymore. This may seem like a small change, but it shows that the church is open to evolution.

I believe that discussing the value of marriage is incredibly important, and we agree that many people do not treat marriage with the selfless determination and perseverance that it deserves. Marriage is not easy.  It requires us to compromise, to elevate and to hold ourselves to higher, better standards. It is nothing to enter into without a willingness to work harder and be better than you are today. It is not something to enter into without finding the right person to marry and without being the right person to marry.

Yet much of this current political and religious discussion of marriage isn't about those things. It's about fear that same-sex marriage could be taught in schools, that it could become illegal to not give benefits to same sex couples, that businesses and schools might be fined for embracing same-sex parents. The ads all talk about these terrible consequences. As a parent, I am supposed to be afraid that you, my kids, might think being gay isn't the end of the world. Well, I've prayed long and hard, and I am not afraid.

In the end, behind the ads and the signs and the letters, it's about a belief that some people are born more sinful, more flawed and less in the image of God than others. It is about the belief that some people are made lesser. No matter how I approach the arguments, I can't get past that truth.

Each day I pray. I open myself up to what God might need to show me, to what I need to do and change about the choices I am making. And every day the call has become stronger and louder that we need to stand up for what we know in our hearts. We are called to be God's gentle reach and voice in this world, even when it is uncomfortable, even when it is hard.

Whatever your orientation, dad and I expect you to treat your sexuality with the reverence and respect it deserves. We believe in long term commitment. We believe in marriage. And we hope that when you are old enough to commit - and if you choose to get married - that all people, regardless of sexual orientation, will be able to join you. We posted a sign, we've taken a stand, we will vote No.