Stepping Together: Cheerful Pursuit of Joy

The day can begin under less than ideal circumstances: a sleepless night, a wicked headache, hormonal craziness, a blood sugar low, a festering argument. Whatever the root, the result is a bad mood. And then comes the defining moment of the day: do I succumb to the bad mood or do I fight for the joy that lies just under the weight of the crosses? Do I grumble and exaggerate, even celebrate, the trials of the morning, assuring that everyone around me knows I'm suffering? Or do I force myself to focus on the eternally present joy of my Christian inheritance and put a smile on my face and persevere in cheerfulness for the sake of the people entrusted to my care? And really, for my sake too.

One thing is certain. I cannot be cheerful under my own strength. I pray for the grace. I stumble. I falter. I persevere imperfectly. But His grace is sufficient. Always sufficient.

God doesn't call us to wallow in our suffering. He doesn't want us hoist our crosses upon the shoulders of the people around us. The sleepless night is my cross. It's not my husband's cross. If I stomp around the kitchen, whining about how tired I am, I foist that cross onto someone else's shoulders. If I "fake" it, and smile instead and force myself to take even more care with breakfast, I bless someone. The thing about choosing joy, even when we don't feel joy? Usually, we end up feeling it too. It's not dishonest. It's discipline.

When we dwell on our suffering, we magnify it. When we accept it and choose to be ever-aware of the joy that comes with being God's own child and to share that joy, despite our own immediate unhappiness, we sanctify it. This month, St. Teresa of Avila reminds us that children need to see us doing virtuous deeds. There is real virtue in cheerfulness. It's infectious virtue. Children can learn cheerful obedience from their mothers.

You know the saying, "If Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy?" That one proves true in most every household. But when Mama smiles, despite her suffering, she blesses. And she is blessed.

There is sadness in our world. There is sorrow -- real sorrow and genuine pain -- in every life. We're called to embrace our crosses. We are not called to hit other people over the head with them.

I think one of my favorite quotes in Small Steps is

From silly devotions and sour-faced saints, good Lord, deliver us.

(St. Teresa of Avila)

A sour-faced saint?  Can you even be sour faced and a saint?

Do my children whine? Chances are I do, too.

Do my children criticize and complain and gossip about their siblings and friends? Chances are I do, too.

Do my children bluster through every chore, griping and seeking ways to escape the drudgery? Chances are I do, too.

Do my children seem to revel in the suffering, making much ado of it and sighing frequently, ensuring that everyone around them knows how hard life is?

Is the outward expression of discontent and ungratefulness taking hold and multiplying in my home like kudzu in Alabama?

Or do the people in my home smile? Do they do the hard thing with a peaceful countenance even though they don't want to and don't enjoy it (much the same way they decline a second piece of cake even though they want more)? Do they fake happiness for a time and master their emotions, with full confidence that a genuine awareness and effusiveness of joy is right around the corner?

If they do that over and over and over again, it will become a habit of joy. And when it does, they will no longer whine; it will grate upon their own ears just to hear whining. They will no longer judge and criticize; they will encourage and celebrate the best in the people around them, without rancor or envy. They will be more peaceful, genuinely peaceful. They will embrace their crosses with full confidence that there is joy to be found in the difficult things, too. They will see that cheerful joy is their calling and step into the day, singing and dancing with St. Philip Neri:

A glad spirit attains to perfection more quickly than any other.

Did you take small steps towards joy this week? Would you share them with us, let us find you and be encouraged? I'd be so grateful and so honored to step with you.

Winter Daybook

Outside My Window

It was 8 degrees outside when I got up this morning. Brrr.

I am Listening to

Karoline discussing plans for a Princess Bluebell Tea Party...

I am Wearing

Yoga pants, two sweatshirts, ski socks and slippers. Crazy cold.

I am so Grateful for

Good friends for my teenaged daughter.

I'm Pondering

See everything. Overlook a great deal. Correct a little ~Bl. Pope John XXIII 

I am Reading

One Thousand Gifts on Kindle

The Story of the Trapp Family Singers I actually read this one a couple of weeks ago. I read parts of the first few chapters aloud to Karoline, but she was totally frustrated. "Obviously, the person who wrote this book didn't pay very good attention to the movie. She got all the names wrong!" It's such a wonderful story of faith and family that I love to read it again and again.

That one got us on a little roll. We watched another movie that, while delightful, really deemphasizes the devoutness of the family in the screen version. My kids loved this movie--19 kids and yet another seafaring Dad! And then, I read the real story. It's a shame this book is not readily available. It's a wonderful read, well worth combing local libraries to find.

I am Thinking

About all your emails last week, following the first Stepping Together post. Your insights are valuable and they never fail to help me grow and to understand. God is amazing!

I am Creating

Karoline have done some early morning art surfing and resolved to get to these projects this week:

Town of Van Snow

Snowman Collage

Picasso's Rose Period Hearts

I'm finding Emily's posts on creativity really inspiring.

On my iPod

This new rosary app: Rosary Miracle Prayer App

Towards a Real Education

Random snippets:

I love the way the year is unfolding in harmony with the seasons: we should finish up the High Middle Ages and head into the Renaissance just in time for spring. Spring here tends to dissolve into nature and art and Shakespeare. This year, it will look like I planned it that way;-).

For as long as he has the time, Michael is taking two kids at a time downtown once a week to visit art galleries and museums. Katie and Nicky went last week. Once again, Nick's eyes filled with tears when it was time to head home. I don't think I'll ever tire of watching how much he loves to be in an art museum.

I talked education with several retired teachers and administrators at my father's birthday brunch yesterday. I was a little surprised by how open and supportive they were about homeschooling. Of course, it's entirely possible that they are just gracious and polite. Well, they were definitely gracious and polite, but they might just be good at pretending too. Still, it was very fun to talk kindergarten with someone who loves it as much as I do! When I have no kindergarteners left here at home, I wonder if I can persuade someone to send me theirs a few days a week, just so I can get my fix.

Towards Rhythm and Beauty

It appears that Karoline's new morning involves rising between 5 and 6 and having dozens of picture books read other before anyone else awakens. It's a lovely time.

Now to figure out when I will exercise and have my own quiet time...

We're having a Kind Conversation about

Getting healthy in 2011

To Live the Liturgy

I am so organized and ready for Candlemas. The link is to an old blog fair with posts on Candlemas. Lots of good reading there. I've been setting aside candles for several weeks now and I have a series of three posts all queued up and ready to go this week.

I am Hoping and Praying

for Elizabeth deHority. She is constantly on my heart and in my prayers. She needs you now. Please, please pray with me.

Around the House

The older my baby, the cleaner my house. I hope I never, ever forget this fact. I hate didactic admonitions all about how if you just get your act together, your house can look like Pottery Barn. The reality is that if I really am tuned into my baby and I really have my priorities straight, the house will be a little "in process" most of the time. And the rest of the time? It will be a mess.

But now, it's rarely a mess. And it's often quite clean. But I don't want to pat myself on the back and have any illusions that it's because I've at last mastered all those housekeeping details. The reality is that my kids are older. Period.

From the Kitchen

This week, Sarah has done my menu planning and I am so grateful!

One of My Favorite Things

Monastery Creamed Honey from the monks in Berryville. My stepmother offered it to me for tea on Saturday night. Then, I added it to my coffee yesterday.  Best cup of coffee ever. I'm not kidding.

I really want to get out to that monastery with the kids, soon.

Sarah Annie this week

She comes to me heavily laden, two small baskets in one hand, a third basket in the other, a blanket over her shoulders.

"You hold this?" she asks, handing me the first basket.

"You hold this?" she continues, with the second basket.

"And you hold this?" I take the third basket.

"You hold my blanket?" But of course.

She reaches both hand up, arms outstretched to me, as I shift her treasures in my hands. "You hold me, too?"

I'd like nothing better.

A Few Plans for the Rest of the Week

Due to extreme carsicknesses on the way back from Charlottesville yesterday, today's car trip to Fredericksburg to visit Beatrix and Larkspur has been postponed. I'm definitely bummed. Everyone whose age is double digits will be at the March for Life today. We've had some extra teenagers here and there last weekend--now everyone is off to DC to make a statement and effect a change.

The rest off the week is up in the air -- or not. Depending on Paddy's schedule, we may or may not be taking a quick trip to Florida...

Picture thoughts:

 
    

 

Grateful Words; Grateful for Words

Early last week, I was thinking about Ann's and Holley's series on words. They had asked for posts about words. Could I do it? Could I write about words without writing about their power to wound? Could I just be grateful for words? That was the plan.

For last Tuesday.

The plan was derailed, ironically, by words. But the thought remained. What are the words for which I am grateful? I've committed to counting twenty items in this space each week this year. Are there twenty ways words bless, just this past week? Can I count those alone? I can, indeed. It's surprisingly easy.

~ Handwritten words, sent in the mail, with a skein of yarn.

~"I luf mome" in crayon, surrounded by dozens of lopsided hearts.

~"You're Maria. Daddy's the Captain. Sing Do-Re-Mi." Again. And again. And again.

~"Looks like we're getting paid, after all."

~"The Mass is ended; go in peace."

~Entering Albemarle County

~"Happy 70th Birthday, Dad!"

~A tiny two-year-old who falls asleep saying, "Grandpa makes me happy. Baba makes me happy."

~"This is my daughter, Elizabeth."

~Planning. Momcation. Knitting. Words of hope.

~In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.

~"Let's go to Florida in February."

~"I'm not going to the Super Bowl."

~"All players will fly home on February 28^th for some time at home with family and friends."

~The first words I hear every morning: "Divine Office: From ancient times, Church has had the custom of celebrating each day the Liturgy of the Hours. In this way, the Church fulfills the Lord's precept to pray without ceasing, at once offering praise to God, the Father, and interceding for the salvation of the world." @Divineoffice.org. I'm addicted to those words.

~Becca, at two o'clock, every Monday afternoon: "I'm going to Starbuck's, can I get you something?"

~"Is now a good time to come over and show you my Becky Higgins Project Life?" It sure is. How cool is that?

~"It's snowing!"

~"Oh, I forgot to tell you. I talked to Dad about three hours ago. He said to tell you he landed safely and he'll call tonight." (I was wondering...)

~Thank you.

~I'm sorry.

{this moment}

{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.

Small Steps Together: Journey to Joy

For a child who knows she is loved, Christmas Eve is all joyful anticipation. She knows--she just knows--that the hours to come will be filled with joy. She is sure of it. She has faith. Childlike faith.

A child loved by her parents has faith in joy.

She expects it; looks for it. Sure that she will find it.

We are children who know we are loved. We can look for joy and expect to find it.

We are children of a loving Father.

A child loved by God has faith in joy.

I am a child loved by God.

Joy is mine.

And so, we begin the year resolved to look forward with childlike faith to the joy that is the gift of our God. to grow in joy, I have to live joy. It's a circle of blessing.

Small Steps begins with joy because it begins on January first, still in the Christmas season. Still in the glow of the candlelit love. Still with our arms wrapped around the newborn Babe.

I can do this. The book is simple. It's focused. I only need to read a page a day. Pray the prayer. Do the small action item. Grow in virtue. Bless my family. Here we go!

Admittedly, the year has a rough beginning, right from the start. Bright and early on the second day of the new year, Patrick leaves to go back to Florida. I really am not sure when I'll see him again. I tell him goodbye and walk to church. He and Mike leave for the airport. They pass me on the way. He turns to sign "I Love You" as they drive by.

There are all kinds of work to do at home. Mountains of laundry. The fallout of "stuff" from Christmas: decorations, refrigerator full of leftovers (some well past their festiveness). Cranky, tired children who can't at all remember they ever had a rhythm to their days.

And then, there is all the thyroid baggage. "Sluggish" doesn't even begin to describe it. It just seems like I shouldn't have to work so hard to live a life of joy.

The eleventh is a bad day. An angry words, hurt feelings, way beyond tired kind of bad day. So, the twelfth begins with a "bad day hangover."

I start with the act. Just tell me: what's the one more thing I have to do today?

A mother's gentleness springs from the joy of knowing that God is kind and merciful. Just for today, do not speak a word of harshness or frustration; enjoy your family instead. If you blow it it, humble yourself and apologize right away.

Seriously? Who thinks this stuff up?

Not a word of frustration?

I commit the day's prayer to memory:

God grant me the grace and strength to gentle and joyful in all I say and do today.

Gentle and joyful in all...

I resolve to fake it.

I tape the quote to the counter above the sink:

They are led and bound more by gentleness than by force or harsh words.

St. Catherine of Siena was writing about children, but I'm sure the same principle holds true for husbands and people on the other end of the phone.

Gentle joy.

It's a long day, no doubt about it, but I do persevere. And the next day is a little easier. The smile springs just a bit more readily. I remind myself that the book is a perpetual calendar. We'll revisit this again next year. I don't have to perfect it on the first go-round. Or the second. God is kind and merciful. He knows these steps are small. He's patient. His grace is sufficient.

Did you take small steps towards joy this week? Would you share them with us, let us find you and be encouraged? I'd be so grateful and so honored to step with you.

When you write about the small steps of your journey, please grab a button for your own blog. Together, we can do this, step by small step:-). I'm grateful for your warm companionship.