Small Steps Together: S-I-M-P-L-I-C-I-T-Y

{edited repost from the archives}

A few of years ago, I found some wooden letters at a craft store in May and painted them blue. I spelled "Full of Grace" and set them up on a table with some Marian items. I loved the way it look and the mood it brought into the room. In December, I borrowed Cheryl's idea  and propped the word "Prepare" on the mantel. Then, when Lent rolled around, I switched out some of the letters and I spelled "Repent." It was only natural that year when we went to "hide our Alleluia" that the "Alleluia" be letters for the mantel during the Easter season. One thing led to another and, with Danielle Bean, I brainstormed a virtue for every month of the year--and those were the virtues we used when we wrote a book, focusing on one virtue a month. In order to keep myself focused and to include my family in the endeavor, I set about collecting sets of letters for each month's virtue and then propped those letters on the mantel remind us all to strive for virtue.
This month is all about simplicity.

I've written before about how "not simple" my life is. I think there is a common notion that simplicity strips things bare--that it requires us all to live lives devoid of the richness and textured complexity our Lord offers us. I don't see it that way. I see simplicity being the clearest expression of faith. I think that simplicity and authenticity are intertwined. When we are being the person we were created to be--when we are authentic--we relate to God and to one another with simple charity.That's simplicity.

When we embrace simplicity, we are content. We know that sometimes we might have the resources to cook an elaborate meal and sometimes, we cook with few ingredients. Both can represent simplicity of heart.It's not the complexity of the meal that matters; it's the disposition of the cook while she prepares the meal. We can practice the virtue of simplicity in times of fasting and of feasting. There will be seasons in our lives when lessons are short and simple and we might even just need to follow the directions of another. And there may be seasons when lessons are a grand adventure, carefully planned and executed over time. What matters is that we do whatever He tells us. It's about seeking and doing God's will, without excessive intellectual wrangling, dissertations and discussions.Don't think it to death. St. Paul writes, "I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.I can do everything through him who gives me strength."

It's not complicated. It's simple.

However, often, we think things to death; we complicate ourselves.We twist in the wind and reinvent ourselves again and again, complicating our spiritual lives and muddling our relationships.Simplicity isn't a decorating style, a cooking style, a clothing style. When we seek to cultivate the virtue of simplicity, we seek simplicity of heart. And simplicity of faith. It's not restless searching and seeking. It's resting in Him and reflecting His pure [and simple] love. It doesn't matter much what I wear or how I cook or what my  home management style is if I am not close to God.

When a simple soul is to act, it considers only what it is suitable to do or say and then immediately begins the action, without losing time in thinking what others will do or say about it. And after doing what seemed right, it dismisses the subject; or if, perhaps any thought of what others may say or do should arise, it instantly cuts short such reflections, for it has no other aim than to please God, and not creatures, except as the love of God requires it. Therefore, it cannot  bear to be turned aside from its purpose of keeping close to God, and winning more and more of His love for itself.~St. Francis de Sales

Did you take small steps towards simplicity this week? How has Small Steps blessed, challenged you, encouraged you on your journey? 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.

For the poor dear who is searching...

for all sorts of combinations of "Valentine hershey candy treat thingies..."

We call them pretzel dots:-)!

And the posts you're looking for are here and here.

(pssst: yesterday we made big piles of yellow/black ones and green/yellow ones; in separate bowls of course.)

Is it True? Kind? Necessary?

How to communicate with grace.

Many thanks for reading:-)

The Magic Hairbrush and Other Tales

Once upon a time a fair young maiden received a package in the mail. It had lots of special stamps on it and it came all the way across the water from merry old England. The fair maiden was so excited as she unwrapped that packaging.

Nestled inside was a hairbrush. Beautifully made of wood, this hairbrush had her name painted on it in pink.

Karoline

Karoline looked upon the brush with wonder. And not a little trepidation. This young maiden distrusted hairbrushes mightily. In her vast experience, they hurt. Those fair, fine curls tangled upon each other when she slept and created such a muddled mess that hairbrushes were feared more than dragons in the maiden's household.

But look at this hairbrush! It came all the way from England! And upon it is inscribed:

BY APPOINTMENT TO HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN

Oh my! Be still small heart! And she shouts, "Katie, the Queen of England sent me a magic hairbrush!"

We brushed. It was, indeed, a quite remarkable hairbrush. And it did make the dreaded chore  more pleasant. But soon it was resolved that perhaps taking a few inches off the long and lovely mane of hair would help keep it from tangling so.

And we did.

Very carefully, following all the Curly Girl rules.

We trimmed.

It looked lovely really.

The fair maiden was quite pleased.

The wee littlest maiden thought that she, too, would like a wee haircut. Her Mama put her in the chair and made scissors sounds close to her ear. But nary a snip fell.

No, the Mama was not yet ready to part with the baby wisps.

She thought ahead to the enchanted tea party planned. She wanted a picture of this littlest dear with that littlest dear, two darling heads with hair that looked like the gnomes were making mischief in there while they slept. No, the haircut should wait. "After the tea party,"  she told the curly maiden, "we'll give the Wee One a proper trim."

Alas, the young maiden with golden curls fell ill on the day of the enchanted tea party. There was much weeping. And there were no photos.

There was no haircut.

Three days later, the fair maiden was overcome with horror at the sight of Wee One's tangles. Her Mama was wrapping packages nearby. Fair child quietly came up behind her and took the shiny scissors from the table.

"Shhh, " she said to Wee One, "Be very quiet. I will give you curly hair."

The Wee One very much wanted curly hair.

Fair Maiden then cut off every single tangle. And every bit of bang. And then she swept all those golden wisps into the trash.

The Mama gasped.

And laughed.

And cried.

And then she dearly wished that the hairbrush from merry England were indeed, magic.

If only.

Small Steps Together: Simplicity



I've noticed a trend lately, as I sit in waiting rooms of various medical offices with various children. There is a quest out there for simplicity. According to magazine covers, we want simple meals and simply cleaned homes. We want no stress and plenty of simple fun. And the rallying cry for simplicity reaches a fever pitch as the school year begins. I've stopped questing after simple.

My life is not simple. And I am not simple. My life is complex. I am responsible for the care and nurturing of 10 other people. They live under my roof. I feed them and clothe them and counsel them and pray for them. I educate them (well, one of them — my husband — I don't educate, but I do explore new ideas with him). When they are sick, I nurse them back to health. Ten people. There is no way that can be simple. People are complex. All the people here are individuals. They all have individual needs and individual wants and individual personalities.

turtle beneath the ice

Running a household of this size is not simple — it's complex. I can try to make it simple. I can try to pin down that elusive system that forces everything to march in a perfectly orderly manner so that it all looks as sleek and uncluttered as an Amish kitchen, but sooner than later I will be frustrated to learn yet again that there is no simple system that will work here. Even if each component is simple, the big picture is a complex tapestry. Life happens. In a family this size, life happens constantly and it's never simple.

Sometimes, particularly when I'm tired, I wish it were simple. But then, I usually quickly recognize that I'm wishing away the very life for which I prayed. I begged God for the fascinating, complex man who is my husband. I begged God for every single one of these children. I begged God for the means to buy them the clothes that necessitate nearly perpetual sorting, washing, folding and putting away.

I begged God for the good job my husband holds, which provides ample food that requires extensive planning, shopping, cooking and serving (and also means an erratic work schedule and frequent travel). I begged God for this house, for the things in it, which He has so graciously provided and which I must clean and maintain. And I heard God when He begged me to educate my children at home — each one according to his individual needs and abilities. None of it is simple. Not a single bit of it.

 

This is my mission field, my apostolate. I am reminded of the woman who struggles to raise three small children while being a missionary in a Third World country. The life seems simple enough. The house is humble; the furnishings are sparse; the meals are plain. But I am assured it's actually quite complicated. Washing clothes requires transportation and time and the cooperation of nature. Health care can be sporadic and inadequate. Personal safety is not guaranteed.

My mission is in suburban USA. My challenges, like the challenges of the foreign missionary, are often the challenges of the culture in which I find myself. But our missions are the same: to make believers of all nations, to bring the Word of God to the culture. My mission begins at home, on a cul-de-sac in Virginia, where the days are very full indeed. In a world that is increasingly complex. There is no doubt I am called to do it.

The only simple part is how I do it. I am called to do it diligently. I am called to do it wholeheartedly. I am called to devote my entire life to working hard for the glory of God in this complex household. I am called to do it — no matter how intricate and complicated "it" is — with love. Mothers love with all their hearts, minds and souls. It's a pure love that God wants us to give to our families. Many, many times, this love looks like plain old hard work, work that requires heroic discipline and almost incessant busyness. Work that is softened by grace falling like rain, rain that sounds like music. It's not a simple tune. It's a symphony conducted by the Lord Himself. And in every family the song is different, each according to the score written by the Creator.

Mother Teresa lived a life of seeming simplicity. But was it really simple? She founded an order, traveled the globe, feed millions, saved lives, dined with heads of state, worked for the kingdom of God. This was a rich and complex woman. This was a deeply spiritual woman. And, I think, what made it all seem like a simple life was her agenda. At the root of it all, all she wanted was to love. She wrote:

There is always the danger that we may just do the work for the sake of the work. This is where the respect and the love and the devotion come in — that we do it to God, to Christ, and that's why we try to do it as beautifully as possible.

We mothers are like that. We work. We work hard. And often, our work schedules are very complicated. But we can have the peace of simplicity that emanated from the tiny nun if we work those schedules the way she did: with love, and respect and devotion. With the simple purpose of creating something beautiful for God.

And now I'm off, to spend the day in an increasingly familiar circuit of orthopedist and physical therapist, grocery store and post office. I'll come home to cooking and cleaning and laundry and maybe a little bit of writing. I sat last night and mapped it all out — I had to in order to be sure that I did the work that is mine for the day. It all looks a bit messy on my handwritten list. It looks absolutely nothing like I thought it would at week's beginning.

And I know the list does not include all the things that I will do which will make me "Mama" to small people. Those go without saying. They are my very being. They are the simple part of me. And all the rest, all the chores, all the scheduling, those I plan as best I can. Now I give it all to Him — the simple part and the overwhelming part. I tell Him I will do the very best I can and I trust Him to show me what's important, to make His will clear and to conduct the rich and joyful symphony that is my not-so-simple life.

{reposted from the archives of the Arlington Catholic Herald}

Did you take small steps towards simplicity this week? How has Small Steps blessed, challenged you, encouraged you on your journey? 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.