Remain in me, as I remain in you

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Remain in me, as I remain in you. Just as a branch cannot bear fruit on its own unless it remains on the vine, so neither can you unless you remain in me.
I am the vine, you are the branches. Whoever remains in me and I in him will bear much fruit, because without me you can do nothing.
Anyone who does not remain in me will be thrown out like a branch and wither; people will gather them and throw them into a fire and they will be burned.
If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask for whatever you want and it will be done for you.
By this is my Father glorified, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples.
As the Father loves me, so I also love you. Remain in my love.
John 15: 4-9

In the atrium, right before their first confessions, the children gather with their parents and meditate on the  the true vine. It is my favorite of five preparatory meditations. I will never tire of watching the "ah ha" in the eyes of children (and, frankly, their parents) when they see that God is the sturdy vine that supports healthy gowth and He also prunes so that they will bear much fruit.

Lent is a time of pruning. Before the rapid growth of springtime, before the burst of joy at Easter, He prunes. I have been blessed in Lents past. I have been blessed with a gracious God who cares so much for me that He  made clear to me what I must do lest I wither and die. Last year, He showed me how to prune away the branches in my life that were keeping me from spending time in Him, from remaining in Him. He showed me that there is a difference between talking about religion and being drawn into the very being of Jesus Himself.

I turned to the timeless prayers of the Church, to scripture, and to the wisdom of the saints of old. I went again and again and again, with the rhythm of a well-practiced monk, to the Liturgy of the Hours. And there, I lingered, remaining in Him. Easter found me clinging to God.

Let your religion be less of a theory and more of a love affair.

~G.K. Chesterton

Lent is a gift. A grace. An opportunity. Lent calls us to Him.

Lent is a chance for a Love Dare like no other. It's a chance to let the God prune and then to water us with His grace. It's also a chance to rest in Him, to stop trying to struggle under our own strength and let His love be sufficient be more than enough. It's a time to surrender to the love of God. A woman cannot have a love affair with a stranger. She cannot have a love affair with someone she knows only through the teaching of other people.

In order to be in love with God, she has to remain in Him. But how? How to remain in God? How to know Him so well that she rests in Him, abides in Him? How to be always with God?

To be ignorant of scripture is to be ignorant of God.

~St. Jerome

“The Gospel,” they explained, “is to be understood not as a book or a doctrine, but rather as a person: Jesus Christ, the definitive Word of God, who made himself a man.”

~drafters of the preparatory document of the 2012 Synod on the New Evangelization

 

To know God as a person--to have a relationship--she must know Scripture. And not just a little, not just as read from the missal. Not just on Sundays. But really, really know it. Know it so well that she rests in it, that it is the background music to her life, every minute of her life. Know it so well that it abides in her and she in it.

If you remain in me and my words remain in you..

I want to breathe the Word of God to the point where I don't know where I stop and He begins.

Have you ever met someone like that? Someone truly united, truly remaining in God? It's an amazing thing to behold. She walks in grace. She blesses with her smile, with her gestures, with her words. She lives the life for which she is created because she is the genuine image of God He intended her to be.

I want that.

So, yes, this Lent is about Scripture, with the sure idea that this is not a temporary Lenten habit but a lifetime habit.

I know that in order to make time for Him, I will have to again prune away those things rob time, waste time. I will have to quiet the voices that do nothing to bring me closer to God and nothing to help me hear Him. And then I will make some conscious choices.

There will still be that Lenten spring cleaning list (For those of you to whom I promised it, I haven't forgotten. An unexpected death this week has our family schedule making way for mourning and funeral. Maybe next week I can share). God will accompany me as I clean. I've downloaded an amazing new audio dramatization of the RSV Bible to my computer and my iPod. I can listen as I deep clean corners, as I fold laundry, as I clear clutter. And if my children happen to be with me, all the better. They can listen, too. I start the day's listening every day with Colossians, because I promised a friend I'd memorize with her and I'm woefully behind where I should be by now. And then, I move on to the Gospels.

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I'm focusing on the Gospel of Matthew because that's the Church's focus this year. So, it's Matthew again and again in my listening, until it's a part of me. The children and I are memorizing large chunks of the Gospel of Matthew together, using a simple system. I fully admit that I have exploited the ridiculous competitive spirit in this family to motivate some major memorizing. Whatever it takes. I think this gift of the Word could be the greatest gift we ever give our children.

The books baskets have been stuffed with Bible story books and children's Bibles. And I will make time, several times a day, to read them aloud in unhurried, joy-filled moments with my own dear loves. (I hope to make a list of New Testament story picture books to share with you very soon--feel free to email me with your favorites.)

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There are Bibles in nearly every room of my house and we've recently begun to consult several translations and commentaries and a Bible dictionary whenever something comes up in conversation. These moments of discovery are joys with older children.

And then there is that lovely electronic version on my Kindle. A Bible everywhere I go.

Lenten reading this year? Oh, it's so much more than just Lenten reading.

It's Jesus.

The Word of God.

 

Small Steps Together: Fasting

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Right around Christmastime, I was really sick. In hindsight, I don't think I recognized how sick, even though I knew something was wrong. I gained fifteen pounds in fifteen days. My body temperature struggled to get above 96 degrees. I could barely keep my eyes open. I had sores all over the inside of my mouth. And I really felt as if my body was attacking itself.

I have long known that I have a gluten sensitivity. Back in my wheat grinding, four-loaves-a-day-baking days, I would get hives on my face if I reached up to push my hair away from eyes with flour-dusted hands. My mouth itched when I ate bread. After struggling with these symptoms, infertility, and depression for a few years, I got serious about cutting gluten out of my life. Four months later, I was pregnant. And then, I was really good about keeping gluten away. Sarah was conceived shortly after Karoline's first birthday. Then, on bedrest, gluten crept in. I was at the mercy of people bringing me food and I just didn't want to be picky. I was too shy to ask people to avoid wheat. So, I tried to eat around the wheat and just did the best I could. I never really cleaned up my act again.

During Advent, it's particularly difficult to stay away from wheat. Just a little bit here and there, a cookie (or even a piece of one), something fried at a party where there is nothing but appetizers with some form of gluten. I didn't do well, despite my best intentions. So there was the gluten allergy--an autoimmune response with intensity.

At the same time, my thyroid did its own autoimmune dance. Not entirely unexpected; pregnancy is hard on a thyroid (nine of those, even harder) and radiation is really hard on a thyroid (but good for curing lymphoma). My thyroid has done it's very best well past when they thought it would quit, but it's tuckered out.

I plodded through January with thyroid medication. Some relief, but really, very little. And then, someone connected dots for me. There is quite a connection between gluten intolerance and thyroid disease. The more I looked, the more I found. And there is also a connection between gluten intolerance and lymphoma. There's a lot medical science has not yet discovered, but what's already there is really enough for me. Those dots, they were connected.

No more gluten. Not even a little. Ever.

I talked to my pastor. I talked to the priest at the mission church. Both of them were very supportive. All I needed to do to get a very low gluten host was to ask before Mass. And to come up before the rest of the congregation to receive. What a gift!

But, for an introvert, that asking--every time drawing attention to my special need-- and that setting myself apart by going up ahead, that's hard. If you are naturally extroverted and not at all shy, you'll have to take my word for it. That's effort. It's sacrifice. It also requires that I always, always get to Mass early, so that I can ask. If we squeak in just before time or we are even a second late, it's too late. I have to go without Communion.

But it's a sacrifice necessary to receive our Lord!

It's gift. It's grace. Actual grace.

And this time, it's not so hard to stay away from even the little bits of gluten. I look at that puddle of carmelized deliciousness that has pooled in the center of the monkey bread and I know that it has slid down warm, yeasty rolls. So, it is forbidden. And instead of swiping my finger through just a little, just a taste,  I remember that I won't even meet Jesus in the wheat. If I won't have even a wafer of wheat for God Himself, why would I have it for that sticky sugar? And with the thought of Him comes all the strength I need to abstain.

When I pull up at the fast food restaurant, all of us far from home at dinner time, and my stomach is growling and I'm met by a sign that says "All foods come in contact with other foods. Nothing is gluten free" I order a big lemonade and I am grateful, insanely grateful for something filling my stomach. Another time, another place, and it's water. No food at all; there is nothing for me. But somehow, the liquid is enough. God fills the space.

This Lent, I am encouraged to go beyond wheat, to embrace the spiritual discipline of fasting and to trust that God will bless my efforts to the benefit of my soul.

 And Jesus rebuked him, and the devil went out of him, and the child was cured from that hour. Then came the disciples to Jesus secretly, and said: Why could not we cast him out? Jesus said to them: Because of your unbelief. For, amen I say to you, if you have faith as a grain of mustard seed, you shall say to this mountain: Remove from hence hither, and it shall remove: and nothing shall be impossible to you. But this kind is not cast out but by prayer and fasting.

Matthew 17:17-20

I remember that He comes to me in the wafer that tastes like brittle burned rice, but He comes. He offers the grace to abstain. So too, does He offer the grace to fast.

When my children ask what to give up for Lent, I always tell them to give up something that they cannot possibly give up on their own, something that will make them call upon God for help. Sometimes, God decides what that will be. When He does, He provides all the grace we need. We are just called to cooperate.

I can do this! By the grace of God.

As Lent begins, the thoughts of the church turn to sacrifice: prayer, fasting, almsgiving.  Small Steps focuses and sacrifice this month. Would you share your thoughts with us, let us find you and walk with you? I'd be so grateful and so honored to have you as a companion. Please leave a link to your blog post below and then send your readers back here to see what others have said.

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How does He love me? Let me count the ways...

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I sat with Karoline in the early morning light, cuddled up together, candle lit, for our beloved "story time." Karoline has learned that if she forces her eyes awake as soon as she hears me stirring in the morning, she will have me all to herself. And I will read and read and read any book of her very own choosing. Often, almost every day, one of those books is Abraham's Search for God, a book from our family collection of Old Testament picture books.

Abraham
The story is a legend of young Abraham, who instinctively knows that the idols and statues worshipped by his ancestors are not the true God. So, he looks to sun and moon, to thunder and rainbow, and finds them all lacking. Finally, the little boy Abraham recognizes the one true God in the beauty of the created world around him. He doesn't worship creation, but Creator.

On that morning not long ago, I asked Karoline if she could see God in her world. Could she search like Abraham did? Where was He? She eagerly shared that He was on nature walks, in knitting lessons, in the atrium (the Catechesis of the Good Shepherd), in her little sister, and on Skype with her brother. She chattered on and on, naming and listing with all the sincerity and enthusiasm a four-year-old can muster. I remembered some magnetic list paper I'd recently grabbed from the dollar bin at the craft store. And I began to record her list.

When she took a breath, I said to her, "You know you are really good at seeing God in your everyday life. Look at all these things! These things are the way He tells you that He loves you."

Karoline glowed at the thought.

"And when we make this list, we can think harder about these things and about God and we can stop and thank Him for every one of them."

And she did. She kept searching. I kept writing for her.

I let the idea bubble in my brain for a few days. Each of my children brings a different temperament and personality to his or her relationship with God and then I bring yet another to my own. I wondered if we couldn't all encourage one another to be aware of the gifts. Katie noticed Karoline's list hanging on the refrigerator and wanted one of her own. So I helped her begin. Sarah noticed both lists and crawled up on the counter, drew on them and tore the front page away from the pad. Sigh. Need a new plan.

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Could I dare my children--all of them--and inspire them to count the gifts? Could we begin right now, at the start of Lent, and count together as a family, gathering all that awareness into individual books of praise to be filled by Easter morning? I don't know. Maybe. It was worth a try. I gathered them all in one place (something very rare in and of itself) and I told them the plan. I tried to explain the concept of One Thousand Gifts in a way that made sense to them. And then I gave them each a blank book and a dare: Can you count one thousand ways God loves you?

With one exception, they have all taken eagerly to the challenge. Their notebooks are private, but a few glances I've had when they've shared their thoughts have been amazing insights into their souls. And an interesting aside: their lists very much reflect their love languages. It's remarkable how God speaks differently to each them.

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For myself, I have a journal on the kitchen counter and another in the diaper bag. Still, I find myself noticng gifts without pen and paper at hand-- at ballgames, at the park, at the grocery store. Sunday morning, as I was leaving home for church, I saw a robin in the rain. I need to remember to write "robin in the rain." I tell myself these things, but often, I do forget. I recalled that Patrick had sent a text to my phone, from my phone, back when my phone wasn't working. Could I text my gratitude notes to myself and then record them later? I almost always have my phone with me. I could and I did.  That phone still isn't working well. Sometimes it takes hours, even days, to receive texts. So, when my phone chimed twenty minutes later and I read, "robins in the rain" I smiled at the unepected joy of it. God messages on my cell phone!

The acoustics in our church are not good and I often have trouble hearing. Given my morning, perhaps it's no surprise that, just an hour later,  I heard our priest say  "May God bless and text you" instead of "May God bless and protect you." Yes, I giggled a little, please, God, keep texting me.

a list:

~robins in the rain

~all nine children home for a grace-filled, peaceful week

~basketball

~hard rain

~safe flights

~a good cry

~late night emails

~yarn that doesn't untwist

~people who will spin such yarn for me

~pay cuts

~child who cleans without being asked

~the man who cooks dinner on an afternoon that begs me to write and write and write, steady rain as my rhythm

~stacks of freshly folded laundry

~old friends

~the boy whose eyes light up when he recognizes grace and he suddenly runs to find his gratitude journal

~the Facebook wall of an old friend and neighbor on the day her father dies--it's like a block party on a summer evening in my childhood; they're all there, all remembering, all loving her.

~four versions of the Bible strewn about my bed and three of us searching, looking for meaning, for Him