First One to 270!
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Elizabeth and I were brainstorming ways to involve the kids in tonight's election and thought you might enjoy these print-outs and a few book ideas too.
Color the Electoral College Map
Happy counting!
Praying and still Praying
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O God, we acknowledge you today as Lord, We thank you for the privilege We thank you for your law, We thank you for the opportunity that this election Lord, we pray that your people may be awakened. Awaken your people to know that they are Awaken them that the same hands lifted up to you in prayer Awaken your people to a commitment to justice Lord, we rejoice today May that make us all the more committed We ask this through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Not only of individuals, but of nations and governments.
Of being able to organize ourselves politically
And of knowing that political loyalty
Does not have to mean disloyalty to you.
Which our Founding Fathers acknowledged
And recognized as higher than any human law.
year puts before us,
To exercise our solemn duty not only to vote,
But to influence countless others to vote,
And to vote correctly.
Let them realize that while politics is not their salvation,
Their response to you requires that they be politically active.
not called to be a sect fleeing the world
But rather a community of faith renewing the world.
Are the hands that pull the lever in the voting booth;
That the same eyes that read your Word
Are the eyes that read the names on the ballot,
And that they do not cease to be Christians
When they enter the voting booth.
To the sanctity of marriage and the family,
To the dignity of each individual human life,
And to the truth that human rights begin when human lives begin,
And not one moment later.
That we are citizens of your kingdom.
To being faithful citizens on earth.
I'm Going to Try
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In the comments section of this post, Susan wrote:
When I set about (rather foolishly) to write every day in October about the mission of motherhood, I had no idea what a wild ride it would be. God has been very direct in answering my questions. I come to this space on November 2 with a very different sense of mission than just a month ago." Can you share more about HOW God has been "very direct" in answering your questions? I looked at your first post, and you were partly speaking about the mission as a writer as well as that of being a mother. Were these some of your questions? How is your sense of mission different? Why? I am very, very interested. VERY interested. I am sorry it has been so hard. I think we all have our own, different issues (often), but I will say, this time with multiple ages (oldest 31, youngest still 9) has been, for maybe the last five years, VERY stretching for me. It is just harder than I expected! Perhaps things have leveled out some here (with four out of the home) -- but it's been a process! I would just love for you to share more -- is that your intention??
I'll try:-)
I think that I've been living a kind of tension that might be similar to yours. Maybe it's a universal experience when there is a large family, at least to some degree. Every woman's journey is likely a bit different but I do think there are some kindred moments.
My own struggle, as best as I can describe, was kind of on three planes. I was wrestling with the idea that somehow living a wholehearted, intentional mama life in the suburbs fell short of God's command to minister to the poor. For my entire mothering life, I'd always considered my home my mission field and this family an endless opportunity to live the works of mercy, but some recent reading had challenged that for me. Through some pretty intensive prayer and some great spiritual guidance, I think I've come to peace with that angle. I wrote about it earlier in the series.
The second plane was the idea that somehow this is all pointless. I think one way that the devil distracts and dissuades mothers of many, who came to mothering with the best intentions, is to suggest to them that their wide-eyed optimism and extraordinary openness to life was really a very silly propostition. He teases them with the apparent "failures" of their mothering experiences, the ungrateful children who hurl ugly words, the stumbling sinfulness of every day life. He taunts them with the little ones yet to raise and undermines every last shred of confidence. And he says, "don't you think you better look for something more? Clearly, this magnum opus isn't turning out so great." I think I've come to peace with that struggle, too.
The other tension was harder for me to pinpoint. I see lots of women my age, who were mothers at home with me when our firstborns were little, who homeschooled with me in those early years, and they are living in mostly empty nests and going out into the world to do some pretty interesting and even noble things. There is literature that suggests that this is the natural progression for women at midlife (not sure I buy into said literature, but it does exist).
Then, even trickier, are the women who are (were?) committed mothers at home, who, like me, discovered that with the internet, we could be mothers at home and then some. It has given me pause lately when I read about how the internet solves the loneliness problem for women who are at home in abandoned neighborhoods. I remember the feeling of nearly exhilarating connection when I found like-minded moms online. For me, there was more than just friendship. There was opportunity as well--a chance to write and publish widely, to connect with speaking opportnities, to build a professional profile--all without leaving home.
I watched as women built social network platforms, broadened horizons, and took full advantage of all the internet could offer to further a ministry and build community and encourage creativity and even provide some income for a family. I remembered when I made a decision to be a mother at home nearly a quarter century ago. It wasn't even a decision! I had no regret leaving the professional world behind to stay home with my baby. But this? This online world? It crept in and became big in my life before I really recognized it for what it was.
I found myself chafing. I wanted to be working on my book. Instead, I was plodding through college algebra. I wanted to be researching moving my blog to Wordpress. Instead, I was filling out the teacher, parent, and counselor portions of the Common App. I wanted to be writing a blog series on the The Mission of Motherhood. Instead, I was struggling to oversee a home renovation for which my husband had long planned. I wanted to commit to a speaking engagement. Instead, I knew that I was needed at home (and on the soccer field) because Mike would be traveling. I was frustrated.
It seemed like I prayed and sought counsel and wrestled and wrestled forever with this. And then, within the course of a week, God threw in everything and the kitchen sink. I came to this blog a mother at home, homeschooling a big bunch of kids, praying for more babies, and grateful to be making a home with a man I've loved since I was fifteen. That's who I was. That's still who I am. I'm a homemaker. I make a home. I can't make a home and build a social media platform or a publishing career.
If I am going to continue to write, I have to write in the margins of my life at home. I remember writing in the margins in high school. over and over again, I wrote "Mrs. Michael Foss." And now, all these years later, that is still the sum of my words in the margins.
That's who I am. The only way I'm going to be content is to be who I am. I was starting to recognize this as I worked through this The Mission of Motherhood study. Last week, it all came into very clear vision.
When Barbara Curtis died suddenly, I found myself thinking about her legacy. Barbara was a lot of things to a lot of people. To me, most of all, she was the example of a mother who had children over the entire spectrum of her childbearing years. I often looked at her relationship with her youngest daughter and found great hope that I'd be a vital part of my little girls' lives well into their young adulthood, despite my "advanced maternal age." And then Barbara died suddenly and Maddy is still so very young.
She's the same age as the boy who sits next to me with algebra, the one who has grown closer to me in the last few months than in the last few years, because somehow we find ourselves fighting through math and science together. And that seems really significant to me right now. I ache to think that I might not be around when Sarah is his age.
Barbara was nothing if not real. She was true to who she was. You always knew where you stood and you always knew what was important to her. That's a very rare thing in the internet world, I think. I don't want to be Barbara Curtis. I do want to be real. Peace is to be found in being real. The internet is a lot less stressful if we just live in the realm of real life.
The day after Barbara died was Sarah's birthday. I hadn't really slept the night before. Every year, I struggle with reliving those hours before her birth instead of just remembering them. This year has been particularly poignant. Sarah was born just before the last presidential election. This year, the election, Halloween, Barbara's death--it all collided to shake me awake and remind me that four years ago I didn't know if I'd survive childbirth and live to raise my baby. Four years ago, I was just so very grateful when I finally was wheeled into the NICU to meet the tiny baby in the too-big handknit pumpkin hat. And we were both alive.
On the morning of Sarah's birthday this year, I found myself at Starbucks. The line was ridiculously long. As I stood in line, I noticed a baby in a carseat carrier on the floor by an overstuffed chair. She had a bottle propped in front of her. And she was wearing a pumpkin hat. Her mother sat in the chair, busily tapping away on her iPhone and when the baby fussed, she rocked her with her foot. I left the cafe crying.
I'm sure it was lack of sleep, emotion from the days before, and good old anniversary reaction, but that baby in the hat rocked me to my core.
There are lots of ways to be the mother with the iPhone. I don't need an infant to make that mistake. I can make it daily with even nearly-grown children. I tried to explain this whole train of thought to my husband. I bumbled along and then concluded with, "What if I only have another fiteen years with Sarah? I don't want to spend those years living inside a screen, distracted, disconnected, and offering her just a random push with my toes now and then."
And he said, "I doesn't matter if you have fifteen years or fifty years, if you don't offer her everything now, you won't have this chance again."
And really that's it. That's it for all of them. I have now. I have no other guarantees. This is my one chance to honestly live the life of a mother at home with her children.
Oh, and then there was the kitchen sink. The kitchen sink got clogged almost two weeks ago. Not a small clog--a clog that has defied even Liquid Fire. It's defied the dishwasher repair guy. It's defied the super auger we rented from Home Depot. I have a sense that this clog is going to require we go through a wall in the basement. The basement. That's where I've stashed everything during this renovation project. The basement. That's where I kept telling myself (and the contractor) that we would turn our attention after Christmas, after the wedding. But no. The kitchen sink is demanding that the basment move to front and center right now. The kitchen sink stands to remind me that I was put on this earth to subdue. And the kitchen sink screams that my life is mostly unpredictable and many of my stresses come from trying to make commitments outside my home (even if they're merely a click away) that require a predictability from me that I cannot guarantee. Two weeks ago, the kitchen sink made me cry. I just knew it was the last thing--the final little stressor that was going to be my undoing.
And, really, it was. It was the final thing. But I'm not upset about it any more and I'm not railing against the kitchen demons who conspire to rob me of time to do more important things. I'm grateful. The drain won't make me nuts if I recognize that my mission today is to deal with drains. The drain isn't distracting me from my "real work;" it is my real work. I am able to click this laptop closed and give my full attention to the dishes in the laundry sink, the mess in the basement, the paper Christian needs me to edit, the boy who wants to go to morning Mass, the little girl who was up sick last night, the late night soccer practice...
the list goes on and on. It's my mission statement.
It's real. It's here. It's now. And it's all I've got.
~ ~ ~
Are you thinking about the mission of motherhood, too? I'm going to join The Nester for 31 Days. I'm going to host a 31 day "retreat" here to remind myself (and anyone who wants to come along) of the mission of motherhood and matrimony. If you want to do your own 31 Days on anything you choose, head here and join! If you want to retreat from the noise of the 'net for a month and focus your own sweet home and family, grab a “Remind Myself of the Mission” button and curl up with a candle, your Bible, and this good book! Let me know your thoughts below. We can help each other hear His mission. You can add a Remind Myself button by cutting and pasting the code below.
Click here for the whole series.
Lord, Hear Our Prayer
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The internet is a formidable force for bringing the comfort and consolation and hope of the Lord to all of us. It can be an incredibily powerful medium for community. There is an unfathomable resource for prayer here. We have on the 'net the privilege of praying for people and of being witness to the miracles brought forth when fervent, faith-filled people pray for one another.
Let's be that community of hope and faith for one another.
How about this idea? What if I pop in here every weekend, share Sunday's gospel and talk a wee bit about how we can live it and pray it in our homes? And then you tell me how we can pray for you that week? Deal?
{And please, do return and let us know how prayer is bearing fruit.} Gospel
Mark 12:28b-34
One of the scribes came to Jesus and asked him,
"Which is the first of all the commandments?"
Jesus replied, "The first is this:
Hear, O Israel!
The Lord our God is Lord alone!
You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart,
with all your soul,
with all your mind,
and with all your strength.
The second is this:
You shall love your neighbor as yourself.
There is no other commandment greater than these."
The scribe said to him, "Well said, teacher.
You are right in saying,
'He is One and there is no other than he.'
And 'to love him with all your heart,
with all your understanding,
with all your strength,
and to love your neighbor as yourself'
is worth more than all burnt offerings and sacrifices."
And when Jesus saw that he answered with understanding,
he said to him,
"You are not far from the kingdom of God."
And no one dared to ask him any more questions.
"Which is the first of all the commandments?"
Jesus replied, "The first is this:
Hear, O Israel!
The Lord our God is Lord alone!
You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart,
with all your soul,
with all your mind,
and with all your strength.
The second is this:
You shall love your neighbor as yourself.
There is no other commandment greater than these."
The scribe said to him, "Well said, teacher.
You are right in saying,
'He is One and there is no other than he.'
And 'to love him with all your heart,
with all your understanding,
with all your strength,
and to love your neighbor as yourself'
is worth more than all burnt offerings and sacrifices."
And when Jesus saw that he answered with understanding,
he said to him,
"You are not far from the kingdom of God."
And no one dared to ask him any more questions.
~ * ~ * ~
Think
Love God. Serve God; everything is in that.
~St. Clare of Assisi
Pray
Dear Lord,
Show me. Show me how to love you with my whole heart, with all my understanding and with all my strength. And then, show me the neighbor you've given to me to love.
Act
Who is the neighbor who is hard to love? Where is the struggle in loving another as you love God? Bring it to God; lay it at the foot of the cross and ask the God who is love to show you how to love.
~ * ~ * ~
and this intention:
For the repose of the soul of Barbara Curtis.
~ * ~ * ~
And this, too:
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A Servant Mother: 31 Days To Remember the Mission Resumes
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Good morning! It's November, the whole month we dedicate to gratitude. Honestly, I'm just grateful to have survived October. It is wholly appropriate that the month ended for us with a ginormous storm. When I set about (rather foolishly) to write every day in October about the mission of motherhood, I had no idea what a wild ride it would be. God has been very direct in answering my questions. I come to this space on November 2 with a very different sense of mission than just a month ago. I'm still committed to writing 31 days on this topic. No promises about when I'll finish:-).
Chapter Four of the The Mission of Motherhood,is entitled "The Servant Mother." Lots of young moms struggle with the concept of laying down their lives for their children. Whether they want to balance a career with motherhood or they are mothers at home who claim a good deal of private time and space and expect their children to fit into neat little corners of their days, it is not an unusual struggle. I admit that this particular struggle was not mine. I definitely had those exhausted days when I felt like I couldn't put one foot in front of the other, but I didn't have the common resentment towards my children that many women describe. That just wasn't me.
I was fortunate in my early mothering days to be influenced by a community of women that was very much of the opinion that there was absolutely nothing better out there for a woman than to be "all in" for motherhood. I'm grateful for those mentor moms. I think there was a grace to those days. It's not all perfect scenario, though. With the "all in" message came another: if you parent this way, if you are attached to your children and committed to raising them in the heart of the Church, they will grow up straight and true. You will not have the terrible teens or wayward twenties. You will defy all those stereotypes of our society. Looking back, I wonder if I was truly laboring for the Lord with a servant's heart or if I was employing tremendous work ethic towards the faulty guarantees. Probably a litle of both.
I find myself now in a position simlar to the one Sally was in when she wrote the book. I have slightly younger children than her youngest at the time and slightly older ones than her oldest (and a whole bunch more in between), but I'm essentially at the same parenting place. In all honestly, I can't make you any guarantees in the what-your-child-will-be department. I've seen in my own house and in other families with servant mothers that this way of life is not a foolproof method for ensuring our children turn out perfectly. It's just not. So, it's probably not a good idea to be a servant mother because you think that's the way to churn out perfect children.
It is, however, a really good way to allow God to work on our own souls. This pouring out of ourselves into our husbands and our children and our homes is God's will for us. We entrust our children to Him and we go forward with full faith that He will answer our prayers for the good of their souls and then, we just set out to be the best we can be. We love wholeheartedly because that's the way He loved.
When my days are long and the laundry mountain grows instead of dwindles despite the constant humming of machines, when boys who are taller than me say things that wound deeply, when a good night's sleep becomes an all-night game of musical beds, I remind myself that Christians are called to suffer. And really? This isn't such a bad way to do it.
On the good days--the ones where something is baking and candles are lit, when she shrieks with glee as something for her comes off the sewing machine, when his eyes light up because he finally "gets" fractions-- I thank Him for the contentment in my heart and ask Him to gently remind me that there are days such as these even when discouragement creeps in. And I beg Him to let them remember these days. I want the good days to be their memories.
Over time, I've learned that serving doesn't mean trading my own health for meeting the whims of my children. I've learned that--for some of us--one of the challenges of serving is learning to set limits on our own commitments and our children's demands in order to ensure that we are all healthy and well enough to keep serving. Being a servant mother isn't being a doormat. It's being a prudent servant of all our resources--physical, emotional, and spiritual.
This motherhood gig isn't a short-term mission. The stages of our children's development change quickly and we are called upon to respond with grace even as we learn anew how to mother. This is a dynamic mission field in every sense of the word. Recently, Carl Anderson, Supreme Knight of the Knights of Columbus commented on married spouses and their true vocation as missionaries. He said, "Love, which the family has the task of living and communicating, is the driving force of evangelization. It is what allows the proclamation of the Gospel to permeate and transform the whole temporal order. This love alone, when it is authentically lived in families, can be at the basis of a renewal of that genuinely human culture which Blessed John Paul II called a 'civilization of love.'"
My children know when I'm discouraged, exhausted, and overwhelmed. Like any missionary life, my days are long and fraught with challenges. They know it. I hate that. I don't want to be the model of grumbling and complaining. It is my greatest hope that when they see in me that this marathon seems too daunting that they will also see me dig deep into the well that is faith. When they see me stumble (and they always do), that they will also see Jesus steady my step.
I hope that my children know home and family as a civilization of love. And I hope that they will live out that love in their own homes and families, secure in the love they lived in childhood. I also know, though, that each of them will have unique friendships with Jesus. The paths they each walk with Christ may not look the way I envisioned them. He will be there for them, offering Gospel grace. My mission is to be sure they know the grace is theirs for the taking and to live my own life in such a way that Christ is real to them. If I am faithful to my own mission, I have to trust that God has a plan and hope that my children will embrace that plan as the mission in their lives. As with any Christian mission, this one is not complete until we all get to heaven.
We aren't servant mothers because that's how to guarantee perfect children. We are servant mothers because we love. And Christ shows us how to love perfectly. When we try to love as He did, when we keep on letting Him mold us into His own image (despite the persecutions that may happen in our own households even), our genuine friendship with Jesus deepens. In the end, maybe being a servant is sort of all about us.
~ ~ ~
Are you thinking about the mission of motherhood, too? I'm going to join The Nester for 31 Days. I'm going to host a 31 day "retreat" here to remind myself (and anyone who wants to come along) of the mission of motherhood and matrimony. If you want to do your own 31 Days on anything you choose, head here and join! If you want to retreat from the noise of the 'net for a month and focus your own sweet home and family, grab a “Remind Myself of the Mission” button and curl up with a candle, your Bible, and this good book! Let me know your thoughts below. We can help each other hear His mission. You can add a Remind Myself button by cutting and pasting the code below.
Click here for the whole series.
