Election 2016: Do Not Despair

It is late afternoon during the week after the second debate and I sit with my eldest daughter watching her niece and her little sister play with dolls we’ve accumulated over the last 20 years. She is mournful.

“It’s my first presidential election and there is no one on the ballot who even comes close to representing the things I hold important. My first election and, no matter who wins, I will feel like I’ve lost,” she says.

I nod. We briefly entertain the thought of a valiant third party candidate on a white horse riding in on an extraordinary circumstance that allows his election, but then I acknowledge that this election feels especially crushing for political idealists.

“Yes,” she says, “and the Christians. This election disenfranchises the genuine Christians.”

I think about that for few minutes, watching two little girls play a timeless game of make-believe. And then I offer the suggestion that maybe it’s the Christians who move past these turbulent election year struggles with the most hope and confidence. If we never put our faith in men, then men can’t steal our joy.

The first thing to do today, I suggest, is to step away from the noise of the news. Step completely away. Our comfort is in the Lord and we cannot hear Him for the clamor of the media that is ever present in our hands. Don’t click there. Just for today, silence the noise.

Now, consider your life. Consider that practices and policies may be put in place following this election that will make living your faith more difficult. Consider that the leader of your country may be someone who does not share your moral vision. That very well may be the burden you bear. What does that look like and how does it shape your calling in the world?

You are a citizen of this country and you hold that citizenship dearly. But you are a citizen of the Kingdom of God first. Regardless of who is elected this year or any year, you will walk in faith. Nov. 9 will be no different from Nov. 8 in the true kingdom. How do you move forward as a young person who feels her voice has been silenced by a culture that is increasingly hostile to dearly held Catholic truth? How do you walk in a world where political leaders explicitly mock your faith? How do you hold your head high and speak values such as the sanctity of life and the care of the poor after an election that has marginalized the weakest and the neediest, and struck at the heart of dignity? How can you keep from feeling hopeless as a brand new voting adult when it seems like the shining city on the hill is tarnished and broken beyond redemption?

You walk in faith and not in fear. God is with you. Man does not redeem; God does. He goes before you. Your enemy is not of any political party here on earth. Your enemy is the evil spirit who prowls about the world seeking the ruin of your soul. Remember that and love your neighbor, no matter your political differences.

Don’t despair, dear girl, and don’t be afraid. God knew that His beloved children would have frequent occasions to be tempted to be afraid. I empathize. It all seems scary right now, but God tells us again and again not to fear. Are we on the brink of an age where Christianity is incompatible with the laws of our country? Perhaps. Is that a frightening scenario to imagine? Maybe. Or maybe it’s a spiritual blessing, the fulfillment of prophecy. To be a Christian is to invite persecution. We’ve lived fairly comfortably until now; there is the real possibility that your generation will learn what it is to truly suffer for faith. What does that mean for the young Christian voting for the first time?

It means you have to be much more aware of your home in the kingdom than I was at your age. You need to know your soul lives in the city of God. The days of complacency are gone. There is the very real possibility that our future holds more persecution than Christians have ever known in this country. But we are not to despair and we will not crumble in fear. Our hope has never been in the men and women we elect. Our hope is in the Savior who chose us.

So we get up again in the morning and we live as citizens of the kingdom of God, with all the rights and responsibilities of that citizenry. We continue to live the gospel of life. As the storm rages around us on a national and global level, we raise children in faith, we reach out to neighbors in need, we comfort the suffering. We persevere in living as we have lived, knowing that no matter who holds the elected offices, God wields the true power. We live in service to an almighty King. Just like we did before Election 2016.

As the days before the election move at a quickening (and sickening pace), remember that all is not lost. It cannot be lost.

God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare His own Son but handed Him over for us all, how will He not also give us everything else along with Him? Who will bring a charge against God’s chosen ones? It is God who acquits us. Who will condemn? It is Christ (Jesus) who died, rather, was raised, who also is at the right hand of God, who indeed intercedes for us. What will separate us from the love of Christ? Will anguish, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or the sword? ... I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor present things, nor future things, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Rom 8:31-39)

Our treasure is stored in heaven. No one can rob us of that as the polls close. The battle has already been won. God is for us. Our place in the kingdom is secure.

Silencing the Voice of Perfectionism

I forced myself not to move anything before snapping this shot this morning. I'm good with that:-)

It happened for the first time almost exactly to the minute, 28 years from the moment my first baby was born. That morning, I didn’t have to silence the voice. For the entire span of a childhood and then some, the voice has been telling me the same lie over and over again. But the morning of my eldest boy’s birthday, I couldn’t hear the voice. I didn’t have to argue with it.

Like nearly every day, I was the first person in the kitchen that morning. I flipped on the lights at 6 a.m. and noted the piles — mountains of assorted books, art projects, dance forms, folded laundry, posters from last weekend’s soccer game and clean plates stacked by the sink.

“Dang,” I thought to myself. “We sure are getting a lot done around here these days.”

And then I made myself a cup of coffee without feeling even so much as a hint of adrenaline prompting me to hurry and clean up all the piles.

It wasn’t until I was deep into the morning’s Bible study that it dawned on me that I hadn’t heard the voice. No one had admonished me for the mess. No one had told me the neighbors would raise their eyebrows at my less than model home. No one had called me a failure for not maintaining a household of nine with perfect order. No one had compared me unfavorably to every other woman who seemingly could do it all and more.

The voice was gone.

In its place was the voice of encouragement. I had just told myself something affirmative and positive from the outset, despite the obvious imperfections of my environment. All grace. So much grace.

This journey to silence the voice has been an arduous uphill climb. Through the perfect storm of nature and nurture, perfectionism and self-recrimination are hardwired into my psyche. I’ve been one to try too hard, move too fast, produce too much and reach too high for as long as I can remember. All my life, I have lived with the exhaustion and utter despair of never measuring up to my own perfectionistic standards. The first response in my brain, until that morning, was always the critical one.

The voice was back around lunchtime, as I hustled to get everyone out of the house in time to celebrate the neighborhood opening of Chick-fil-A. We had to move quickly and efficiently, because I knew the lines would be long and we barely had time for lunch before I’d have to hurry a child to a physical therapy appointment. Someone couldn’t find her shoes.

“Why is it I’m so incompetent that we can’t even do something fun because we can never find what we need when we need it?” I stormed aloud to no one in particular.

“I’m sorry, Mommy,” came a small voice. “I was so tired when I got home yesterday that I forget where I left my shoes. “

Now I remembered. She really, really was that tired. She’d had an allergic reaction and been fully dosed on an antihistamine. She’d tumbled into bed a weepy, wilted mess. Frankly, I couldn’t remember where we’d taken off her shoes, either.

This lost shoe thing wasn’t inefficiency. It was the honest result of choosing to meet the moment with compassion and letting something slide in the process.

I apologized to myself — and my kids — for the ugly chastisement, blowing away the voice of shame with a breath of honest grace for all of us.

Begin again, I told myself. Invite again the peace of the morning, the knowing deep down that I was not created to prove myself the latest model of perfection. I was created to rest in the knowledge that we’re doing the best we can and keeping step with our Savior. His voice is the only one that matters.

Come Join Us, Words From Mary Lenaburg

As many of you know, Elizabeth has recently been rear-ended, resulting in a car accident. Although we are very grateful that she was alone in the car and walked away from it, she has been diagnosed with a concussion and has been ordered with no screen time, no reading, and plenty of mental rest and sleep. 

You can imagine how well that’s going ;-)

So, we're going to try to fill the space here until she's well enough for screen time. The Liturgical Calendar beats on, this week Blessed Is She has opened up pre-order sales for the Blessed is She Advent Journal, By The Manger in the Morning, written by Elizabeth. There are two purchase options for the book, one is solely the journal and one is bundled with print artwork and jesse tree artwork, all designed by my dear friend Erica Tighe. 

Today, Mary Lenaburg is here to chat a bit about the book. I, personally, met Mary for the first time when her special needs daughter, Courtney, was fighting for her last few months on earth. I had a big pile of fabric that I intended to stitch up for other people and she was on my mind, so a stitched together an apron for Mary. While I was dropping it off quietly, she opened the door wide and welcomed me in. Mary was part of the homeschooling group that my husband, Michael, grew up in so I could have talked to her for hours, listening to stories and hearing Mary's Holy story. 

Mary, and her loving husband, Jerry. 

We are all grateful for you, Mary. 

Good Day, Dear Friends. Elizabeth has graciously asked me to stop in and say hello in this beautiful space of hers, so I can tell you all about an engaging Advent devotional coming your way from Blessed is She written by…you guessed it…Miss Elizabeth herself. 

Elizabeth has always had a knack for reaching our hearts when writing about her life, her joys, and her struggles. I’ve always respected her honesty and openness. And now she’s brought that raw gift to this new piece of work, “By the Manger in the Morning”. When I say new I mean it. This is a completely new original work different from her Restore Workshop or her previous Advent ebook. After spending the last two days reading it, I believe it’s her best written work ever. 

Using the daily prompts of “head, hands, and heart” she walks the reader through preparing their minds, hearts, and homes for the coming birth of Our Savior Jesus Christ. Her words guide the reader to look at all aspects of their life. By digging a little deeper each day, pulling out the dead and withered pieces and replacing them with new life, God’s inspiring words are revealed in the scriptures. 

This devotion is unlike any I’ve read, and I’ve read many a scripture study in my years of building a relationship with my Lord. Not only do Elizabeth’s words create a heart space that’s open to listening to what God wishes each reader to “hear’, she challenges and stretches us to step outside of our comfort zone. To see what else might be out there for us to learn. To fill our vessels, often so dry from pouring ourselves out for others. It brings the reader into the cave, to sit by the manger, allowing the words of love to seep into their heart preparing each one to experience Advent differently than ever before. 

Baby Jesus was born to change the status quo. Which means that no one gets out of Advent the same they started. Elizabeth’s Devotional starts us on the path and offers guideposts along the way.

Beginning with journaling the words of God, Elizabeth takes us through the season of waiting and preparing with grace and humility. Day by day, the scriptures guide, teach, and challenge everything we once thought about the season of Advent and Christmas. Then, on Christmas morning, we’re asked to bring the O’Antiphons to life through pictures and personal art. We’re asked to use the gifts we have to honor and praise the coming of His Son to save us all. It’s like a burst of love straight from Our Creator.

This devotional is available to purchase from Blessed is She. The Blessed is She ministry is for ALL ages of women in ALL seasons of life. Whether you’re single, married, have children or do not, the daily devotionals (@Blessed is She) offer grace and peace in our imperfect world. Elizabeth and I are honored to be a part of this dynamic ministry geared to reaching “women in the pew” who seek a deeper relationship with our Lord by deepening their understanding of church teaching. 

Come join us, won’t you? 

Hurricanes Revisited

Hi!  Cindy Kelly here posting for Elizabeth.  As the Kelly family is hunkering down here in Florida getting ready for Hurricane Matthew to hit, Elizabeth and I decided that it was time to dust off this old Hurricane post and fix up the links.  Let's continue to pray for all of those in harms way, in particular, the people of Haiti.

Hurricanes to think about

August 26, 2011 Elizabeth Foss

Below is a repost from several years ago. Tthere is still plenty of good stuff to think about as we seize a very real opportunity to discuss hurricanes.

Hurricane Reading

Peter Spier's Rain

Galveston's Summer of the Storm

Isaac's Storm

Hurricane

Magic School Bus inside a Hurricane

Rain Makes Applesauce

Come on, Rain!

Down Comes The Rain

One Morning in Maine

Websites Worth Exploring

FEMA for Kids

National Hurricane Center

Hurricanes: How they Work and What they Do

Alphabetical Order Each year, hurricane names are assigned in alphabetical order. The list of names is recycled every six years. The names of this year's hurricanes can be found at here. List the names out of sequence and let the children put the names in alphabetical order. Ask them to notice a pattern in the names once they are in order. 

Make “lightning”. Static electricity is stored in rain clouds. When a cloud is so full of static electricity that there's no room for any more, a spark might leap from the cloud. That spark is called "lightning"! (Note: This experiment works best when the weather is dry.)

1. Tear up a sheet of tissue paper into tiny little pieces.

2. Hold a comb over the confetti.  Nothing happens.

3. Use a comb to comb the children’s hair. Or rub the comb on a piece of wool or fur.

4. Then hold the comb over the tiny tissue paper pieces.

5. What happens? Why does it happen?

The Water Cycle in a Jar. Discuss the steps of the water cycle:

(1.) Energy from the sun changes water to water vapor.

(2.) Water vapor rises. It cools and condenses to form clouds.

(3.) Winds blow the clouds over land.

(4.) Clouds meet cool air, and rain or snow falls to the ground.

(5.) Most of the water returns to large lakes and oceans.

Draw the steps for nature journals.

Now, re-create the water cycle:

1. Fill a large, glass bottle or jar half full of water .

2. Cover the jar with plastic wrap and secure the plastic wrap in place with an elastic.

3. Place the jar in a sunny window.

4. Observe for a few hours. What happens? Why did it happen?

Create a cyclone in a bottle.

Graphing. Make a bar graph of the number of hurricanes by month.

June

19 hurricanes

July

25 hurricanes

August

77 hurricanes

September

107 hurricanes

October

53 hurricanes

November

5 hurricanes

(Data shows totals for US Landfalls from1851-2015.)

And/or

Hurricanes cause millions of dollars in damages each year. Create a bar or picture graph to show the costs of Atlantic hurricane damage over the decades.

1920s

$2 billion

1930s

$6 billion

1940s

$6 billion

1950s

$13 billion

1960s

$23 billion

1970s

$21 billion

1980s

$21 billion

1990s

$78 billion

Make a weather station. Go to Making a Weather Station and follow the directions to create a weather station at home.

Geography -- track a hurricane. Print off a Tracking Map and track the path of a current storm.

Download the Hurricane Kit Checklist and create one for your own home. This is a good basic disaster kit even if you don’t live in a hurricane region.

Use watercolors to paint hurricane scenes.

Curriculum Looking for a unit study on emergency preparedness? Youth Emergency Preparedness Curriculum. 

Games  Create your own hurricane and explore the relationship between sea surface temperatures and hurricane strength.

Research

1. What's the difference between a hurricane, a cyclone, and a typhoon?

2. What is the origin of the word "hurricane"?

3. Pick a hurricane whose name has been retired.  Research the storm and find out why the name was retired. Choose from the list a hurricane a US hurricane, research the hurricane, and then create a brochure or lapbook about it. Include such things as the hurricane's path, the costs according to the actual year in which the hurricane occurred, the loss of life, loss of property (particularly notable property and landmarks), rebuilding efforts.

4.  Research relief efforts.  Which organizations rush to offer relief?  How do they operate? 

Geography. Visit Earth Science for Kids and look at the geographic areas to find current tropical storms. Locate the seven areas where tropical storms occur on a world map identify countries that might be affected by storms in each of those areas. Are storms there called typhoons, cyclones, or hurricanes?

In Books, Learning Atmosphere and Environment, Science

The Courage to Call it Home

Most women know the answer to that big question before it’s asked. I know, I thought about it. We even talked about it a few times. 

Will you marry me? 

He wrote and illustrated a short story, which ended up being the story of my life, and he left the rest of the pages blank. He asked in front of his family. It was the sweetest moment of my life. But he didn’t need the book, the audience, or the ring. I knew exactly what I wanted in life before he even asked.

At the time, I wasn’t sure if the timing was right, but I knew he was who I wanted to be with. Somehow, we’d make this work.

The same held true for the next big question he asked me, except this time he wasn’t so sure of my answer. This time, it wasn’t rehearsed or planned. There wasn’t an audience, but my answer was firmly on his side. 

I wasn’t sure if the timing was right to move to California, but I knew he was who I wanted to be with. Somehow, we’d make this work. 

What I didn’t know is that the “yes" to move to California would cause more immediate change than the “yes" I said to be his wife. 

When we were married, I moved. I kept the same job and lived the same life, except I was now married. The blessings of the sacrament of marriage are slow spilling for most of us. It wasn’t until I was pregnant with Lucy and we experienced the hardship of losing my husband’s close friend, Shawn Kuykendall, that I learned what grace in marriage meant.  

Then, soon after Shawn’s passing, we became parents of a breathing, screaming baby girl. Becoming a parent is a life event that you, sort of, fall into.

Lucy at El Segundo beach.

Life happens. We can say yes. We can say no. There will be consequences to every decision.  

I said yes, got on a plane and hours later, stepped out of the LAX airport into thick, warm air. It was humid in a polluted way. I saw two palm trees poking vertically above the plain building in front of me. It was my first breath of a Los Angeles street. 

I took a deep sigh. Today, was the first day of the rest of my life. Today, I was meeting my future. I felt like a new bride in a lot of ways. Everywhere I went, I was quick to explain that “I just moved here, all the way from Washington, DC!” I was lost in a whimsical way. People loved it, like admiring a young girl with a sparkly diamond. There’s a glow and excitement to someone new.

But the glitter of “new" fades, and then you just feel unforgivably lost. No matter the place, I was constantly arguing with my GPS. No matter the night, I woke feeling like I was in a hotel. I went to my midwife and the standard in Los Angeles is to test for HIV. I sullenly tested for HIV. Negative. I was scared of (harmless) homeless people. I saw an LAPD helicopter flying above my complex, hid in my apartment and locked the door. I always, always, always missed the turn to my parking garage.  

And I felt like I didn’t belong here. I kept it going, though, trying hard to work it out like a machine, do my job and mostly feeling like a failure. 

Then, one day, I drove to Trader Joe's without my GPS telling me where to go. I woke up to the familiar scent of lemon essential oil diffusing in my living room. My midwife called me by name and I called the homeless man on the street by name. I watched as an LAPD helicopter flew above me and I didn't wonder if we were in a state of emergency (the LAPD has the largest helicopter fleet, as far as US police departments go, and they always keep two in the sky). I turned into my parking garage without anxiously looking for the turn. 

And I walked through the door of our apartment and heard the words fall surely and easily from Lucy's brave little mouth,

"We're home!"

She sighed as she kicked off her shoes and climbed in her rocking chair, an upholstered charcoal rocker. It once sat in my master suite, made spacious for family living. Now, that rocker sits in my living room, sized for a bachelor, or a family, in Los Angeles.  

Lucy with a purple mermaid outside a beautiful home in Larchmont Village. 

I laughed at the sight, at the thought of her simplicity and joy, and my eyes welled with regretful tears.

You know that feeling; the one when you know you're failing as a parent. Then, your child comes to you full of wonder and mercy, and tells you something grand like, "Mommy, you're my favorite." 

That's what it felt like. 

All this time, I was sure I failed to create a home. I was pregnant and exhausted. There were boxes, empty walls, picture frames on the floor. The pantry was dysfunctional and mostly bare. Lucy had a small makeshift desk, the bottom half of a bookcase that didn’t survive the move. There were legos ... everywhere. 

It was all a mess that I was unwilling and too afraid to call my home. I was above it all. Too good for it, but she knew better. 

Meanwhile, she loved her little desk. She was settled, sure that this space was ours, content and cozy, and ready to give it all a try. 

I managed to smile and say, "That's right, you're home.” 

Lucy pretending to play piano at Erica's (of Be a Heart) home.

Pieces had fallen into a place of home. 

The joke was on me. For all this time of worrying and thinking that I knew it would be too hard to handle -- It was a moment, much like watching a new surfer catch a wave, messy and lacking balance.

But I was doing it. 

I was making a home in LA, not just visiting or vacationing. I was living here. The one thing I had anticipated for months, I was doing. Even though it didn't look at all like the California dream I had hoped for, it was real. It was ours. For Lucy, it was all quite successful. Then I saw, in plain sight, it was successful for me too.

Lilly and I at a home decor fabric shop in the fashion district, downtown Los Angeles. Photo cred: Erica

Pride is often faulty. But I'll tell you this: If you move 3,000 miles away from a life that took you 28 years to create, and you find yourself smiling on another overcast day during an El Niño spring, you go ahead and be proud of yourself. Take all the pride and breathe it in deep so you can feel it warm your scared-cold heart. 

And then exhale every last sticky string of it because this ain't over. 

Making a home in LA is a unique piece of my motherhood, as unique as my individual children. It's taught me a lot in the past 6 months; the biggest lesson, so far, was learning that I could do it. I could make her a home in a new, unfamiliar place. 

I look outside today. The sky is blue. My skin is tanned and we're debating whether we'll go to the pool or the beach after mass (No, we don't always spend time at the pool and beach, but I'm happy for the days that lead us there). I picked a sweet year of mercy to move to the beach, and mercy there will be. 

My younger sister, Simone, walking adjacent to Venice beach during her visit with us. 

Next week will be new and it will come with new challenges and new obstacles; battling the need to keep up with the east coast as well as make a life worth living here. My back will ache a new ache. The babes will cry new cries. Maybe it'll feel like home or maybe I'll feel exhausted from the unfamiliar. There’s a lot to learn. No matter the cause of frustration, depression or joy, I'm doing it.

I'm grateful for the courage of yes. 

"Trust and trust alone should lead us to love”

— Thérèse de Lisieux