{this moment} - A Friday ritual. Photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. If you're inspired to do the same, visit Soulemama to leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.
I know we've moved to a new month and so I'm supposed to move to a new small step, but the last couple of weeks of May moved too quickly to suit me and far too quickly to blog all that was in my head, so I'm going to squeak just a few little thoughts on grace into the first June Small Steps Together. That makes sense, doesn't it? We all rely on His grace to have the strength and the calm and the self-composure to be gentle. So let's look at some grace notes and then talk about being gentle.
From May 24th:
With light from You, I now see that I could not accomplish by myself the things that I wanted to do most. I said to myself: ‘I shall do this, I shall finish that,’ and I did not do either the one or the other. The will was there but not the power, and if the power was there, my will was not; this because I had trusted in my own strength. Sustain me then, O Lord, for alone I can do nothing. However, when You are my stability, then it is true stability; but when I am my own stability, then it is weakness. -- St Augustine
My list lately is ridiculously long. All the things I want to do. I the things I have to do. All the obstacles in the path of both want-to and have-to. I love, love, love this quote. This really is the "all" of how to be a good wife and good mother of many. Only under God's strength. Only with God's grace. And it's a constant weighing and measuring. The list itself has to be in God's will. What would He have me do with the time He has given me in any given day? And what would He have me do with the nights? So often, I push the margins of day and night, blend the boundaries beyond recognition and so defeat myself and defeat His purpose for me. Jen has some good thoughts on that this week. The important thing for me to remember is that God gives me sufficient grace for each day, every day. As long as what I'm endeavoring to do is in His will. His yoke is easy and His burden is light (Matthew 11:30). So, if I'm straining under the burden of my daily life, it's time to stop and pray about it--pray as long and as hard as necessary before the Holy Spirit shows me where I'm out of step, what I've taken on that isn't what He intended for me. When I do that--when I live each day intentionally, giving it back to God as my gift of grace--the list is still long but it is entirely do-able.
One more:
May 26 (Feast of St. Philip Neri)
Think: Cheerfulness strengthens the heart and makes us persevere in a good life. Therefore the servant of God ought always to be in good spirits." (If "God Be With Us: The Maxims of St. Philip Neri)
Pray:
God, I am not always naturally in good spirits. Grant me the grace to be cheerful; remind me every moment that I live for you and no matter how dark the day appears, you can and do cheer me. With your grace, I can be in good spirits and I can persevere despite the trials that inevitably will come my way.
Act:
Are you grumpy? Ask for grace. Are you tired? Ask for grace. Are you discouraged? Ask for grace. Are you angry? Ask for grace. Be open and yielding and genuinely happy to embrace His plan. Notice that your shoulders loosen and your brow smooths. Smile. Let cheerfulness lighten you. If necessary, fake it until it's real.
We've talked previously about the concept of faking it until it's real. And it was perhaps misunderstood by some. Sometimes, I don't feel virtuous. I don't feel cheerful or courageous or gentle. I don't feel like doing what I know God wants done. But I beg His grace and ask for His light to do virtuously anyway. And I can. By the grace of God. And then, after faking it, it does indeed become a part of me, a virtue practiced often enough that I feel it, breathe it, live it. Only by His grace.
That brings me to gentleness. Almost every woman I know struggles with gentleness. They find it doesn't come naturally. They find that fatigue, in particular, is the near occasion of sin when it comes to sinning against gentleness. They want to go gently into the good night. Mostly, though, they just want good nights.
Can I awaken, even after the restless nights, the sleepless nights, the nights filled with nursing and nebulizers and take to heart the counsel of St. Francis de Sales?
Put your soul every morning in a posture of humility, tranquility, and sweetness, and notice from time to time through the day if it has become entangled in affection for anything; and if it be not quiet, disengaged and tranquil, set it at rest. -- St. Francis De Sales quoted in Small Steps entry for today, June 2
Humility
Tranqulity
Sweetness
A gentle-quiet heart, at peace with the Lord because I've committed my to-do list to His Will and endeavored, through His Grace, to do only what He wants me to do, to be only the person He wants me to be. With every step, through every day, remaining detached from the affection of anything that turns me away from God and His goodness. God and His gentleness.
St. Francis de Sales expects that after the morning offering, there will be times during the day when the world rocks and peace is elusive. He reminds us, with gentleness, to stop and set our souls at rest. Where and how can we do that? Shall we throw our aprons over heads the way Susanna Wesley did? Shall we lock ourselves in the bathroom, turn on the water, and pour our hearts out to God? Will it do us good to put the baby in a front pack and the toddler in the stroller and go for a brisk, prayerful walk? Whatever it is that we need to bring tranquility and sweetness to our souls, that's what God wants for us in that moment. Because He does, indeed, want us to be gentle.
All the time.
~~~~~~~~
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In the comments of the Yarn Along post, Laura mentioned that this blog was one of only two Catholic blogs on the voting list for Top 25 Faith Blogs at Circle of Moms. Lots of blogs of witches there, though. Honestly, I couldn't find my blog there. I saw another Heart of my Home blog. I scrolled through a whole bunch of pagan goddess blogs and then, I just moved on before I got to the end because I'm sitting at Starbuck's with limited working time and that just didn't seem to be worth trading time away from home. But, it is a curious thing to me because I don't know a single Mom Witch in real life and they are definitely well represented over there.
Update: Someone found my blog there. You can go here to vote for me and you can vote once a day. Or you can go to the link above and scroll through to vote for other blogs. The witches and pagans are well organized and well ahead of Christian blogs. Sure would be nice to see Christian blogs well represented at the end of this voting.
My Baby Surprise Jacket is still stalled. Elizabeth isn't feeling well and I am absolutely terrible at all things spatial. Hence, I can't wrap my brain around what she's trying to tell me about picking up stitches. Stay tuned. The good thing is that we're both stubborn and we won't give up. I promise a new tutorial post soon and I know I still owe you a prize post. This is summer schedule boot camp week. I'm totally focused on making my kids do whatever I tell them as soon as I tell them establishing rhythm.
While I've been waiting for my brain to catch up with my fingers, I finished this sweater for Sarah. I spent hours--literally-- waiting for the ferry to go back and forth across the Potomac for soccer last weekend. Put the van in park, listened to a book on tape until I could bear it no more, and then listened to Scotty McCreery's "album" over and over again while I knit and knit and knit. About that book: I usually love Roald Dahl, but I could not bear to hear how the witches talked about children. It was making me physically ill. I never write negative reviews--usually I just say nothing if I have nothing good to say, but it brought tears to my eyes to have my kids hear this book. Maybe I'm overly sensitive. Or I just don't suspend disbelief enough to be unaffected by fantasy. Whatever, I'm not a fan.
I love the way this yarn behaved and I think the shirt is pretty poppy hug. The pattern runs small. I added eight extra stitches under the arms and it's still a bit snug, especially since I knit it for a layering piece for next fall and winter. Not much need for sweater hugs in Virginia in the summer. The heat index today was 105 degrees. I also tweaked it a bit at the bottom, finishing with a broken rib stitch. {Geez--I tweaked it. Sounds like curriculum;-)} Knitty gritty on Sarah's hug sweater on Ravelry.
I just sent Give them Grace: Dazzling Your Kids with the Love of Jesus to my Kindle. Haven't yet begun to read. I will admit here and now that I bought this book because of its title and cover. It just looks like something I would really love. And because it's on Kindle, it won't add to my house clutter.
Speaking of house clutter, I'm after it with reckless abandon this week, truly eradicating it from my house. I'm on a tear. And then, maybe I can think my way clear to write again. I once read that the best way to teach children how to be good writers was to teach them how to clean out and organize their closets. There is something to that. If you can't organize and get rid of the clutter, you can't write logically or edit well. At least that's what I'm telling my children.
Mary Beth has saved enough babysitting money to buy herself a brand new MacBook. This accomplishment has me bursting with pride. She went a little camera crazy this afternoon in order to have lots of pictures with which to christen her very own iPhoto. So the pics of my baby in a pretty poppy hug come to you from Mary Beth's Mac.
Now, I'm off to haul away another bag or two of stuff. And grab a hug or two of the kid kind.
Do go visit Ginny. That new baby is scrumptious.
Not quite playing along with Amanda this week. (By the way, both Amanda and Ginny have life's most extraordinary moments to share.)
I have several photos on my camera begging to be shared in this space right now, so we're going for the multiple moments of coming home and finding out what has been --err-- unwinding in one's absence.
I cried on the way to the airport. All those trips back and forth--the sendoff, the awesome visit, the too-short Thanksgiving and Christmas breaks, the sister trip, the Nicky trip, Spain, Brazil, Holland,--all of it played as a montage in my mind. And I was just so glad that this ticket home was a one-way ticket. At least for now.
Sometime in the middle of February or so, I sent Paddy a picture text when we were at Rita's Italian Ice. He'd been telling me about Rita's for years, having had the experience in distant towns. We have one locally now and I wanted to tell him how heartily I agreed with his assessment that it is awesome. The text made him sad. I was instantly sorry I had shared where we were and what we were doing without him. So, I promised we'd go the minute he came home. We went to Rita's directly from the airport.
Pick Up Happiness.
Pretty sure I just did.
At home, Patrick sized up the swift that has taken up nearly permanent residence on the kitchen table. He wanted a demo.
After Gracie got home, we settled into our customary knitting time. Patrick wandered in and didn't know quite what to do with himself. So he did what came naturally--the habit that has a long and storied history. He opened the yarn cabinet and took out a "ball." And he juggled it. With his feet. Declared it not round enough.
{bonus: You can see the laundry that came home with him. We washed quickly because the whole house was overcome with the stink.}
Took out another.
No! I hastened to put an end to that. It's Malabrigo. you can't play with it.
He picked up another ball. Declared it the most superior for juggling purposes. He asked what kind it was.
You know, chimed in Nicholas helpfully, like Dan Marino.
Indeed. Just like that.
I'm Elizabeth. I'm a happy wife and the mother of nine children. I grab grace with both hands and write to encourage myself and others to seize and nurture the joy of every day. I blog here with my daughter, Mary Beth, a wholehearted young lady on the brink of adulthood.
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