The Desire & the Decision

I've never held a dear desire to have children. Making that statement inclines me to hide my face for a moment. I'm well aware that it doesn't fit. It has long felt like something 'wrong' in me. I'm Catholic, wholly pro-life and pro-family. I don't believe in the use of contraception of any sort and I celebrate the beautiful gift that is our cooperation with God in creating His most precious creatures - human beings. I hold children to be among the greatest gifts bestowed by God, never burdens and never unwelcome. I am the youngest of 7 children and those siblings... well, there's little I wouldn't do for them. When friends or family members announce pregnancies or introduce me to their new little ones, I rejoice with them. I relish the tender snuggles and vivacious antics of my 11 nieces and nephews. I mourn with those close to me who have lost a child or struggle to conceive. I love children. And yet...

For years I've been aware of my lack of desire to be a parent. It hangs about in my mind in disconcerting contrast with most of my peers. It leaves me wriggling uncomfortably under the expectations that are voiced by those who know me. I feel a bit ashamed of myself as I hear the hopeful remarks of others, longing for the day they will have children of their own and eager to embark on that journey. Meanwhile, I have longed for marriage, praying for God to prepare me for that vocation and prepare my spouse in the years before I would even meet him. But children... I've wanted to want them. That's not the same though, is it?

There have been stages to my self-assessment in this regard. First, I wrote it off as nothing to be troubled over. "I'm sure eventually God will put that desire in me." "When I meet the right man then I'll begin to long to have children with my spouse." "Of course I want a family. There's no reason to be impatient or desperate about it." More recently I moved into a state of worry as I admitted the fears I hold about being a parent. I worried that deep down I do have a strong desire to be a parent but I'm too scared to acknowledge it. How can I possibly be capable of raising children? This world is so full of influences and events that will inevitably undermine my efforts. Families are too capapble of hurting each other. There's so much pain and disappointment involved. The fears piled up and I wondered how I'd ever admit to my spouse how afraid I am of having children.

Then I met Matt. No, he has not ushered in an era of longing for motherhood. Our attachment to each other didn't act as a magic wand casting a spell on the parental part of my heart. What Matt did bring was his son. Matt brought reality to me in the form of his six year old, tow headed, rambunctious, eager to please, says-the-darndest-things son. Matt invited me into his life, at the heart of which is his son. I stepped hesitantly inside and took a look around. There was plenty to see, even if I kept to the wall. What I saw was parenthood. The daily choice to put another person first, a person entirely dependent on you for his well-being. This fundamental decision of parenthood, to love and do so unrelentingly captivated me. I saw a man who was shaped by his fatherhood, who was on the path he was on because he was a father. I knew this wasn't how it had to be, wasn't the ideal or the convenient or the easy or the carefree way. Yet it was what he chose day in and day out.

It was startling. And like nothing that came before, it took hold of me. Essentially, Matt gave me a new lens. I have long seen the beauty and goodness of children but now I began seeing the beauty and goodness of parenthood itself. In all its struggles and sacrifices, joys and encouragements, unknowns and questions, it is good. I don't know how I missed it before, or not missed it so much as left it uncomprehended.

2011 So Far

Why hello, Blogosphere! It's been a while. Too long, really. I've had the itch to blog for many days now but haven't taken the time. As well, I haven't hit on a particular topic to expound upon or story to tell. Yet, here I am. Typing away instead of processing invoices for multifunction office machines and their accessories.

I rang in the new year with a fancy dress and my friends' wedding. Matt and I slipped away early though and welcomed midnight with living room slow dances and a sweet kiss. It was a lovely night. Naturally, a few resolutions were also made: floss every day, worry less, relax more, read Scripture every day, watch less TV, and put more money aside for savings. I've done well on the flossing and the savings so far. The rest are a more gradual adaptation.

The new year also brought a new job. I'm still with the same company but gladly accepted an unsought promotion. It brings new challenges and a small raise and I welcome both.

January has been snowy and I'm quite ready for spring. As my readiness doesn't accomplish anything though, I must choose the silver lining instead. Winter lends itself well to indoor hours of reading and writing. As a new member of two book clubs, the reading has certainly increased and I'm loving that. The writing... why, oh why am I having such a difficult time rededicating myself to writing? My desire to be published, to have Full of Days finally go to print, is stubbornly consistent. The same cannot be said of my certainty that I should keep trying. Oh fear, you're such a leech, while courage, you're rank with the more elusive creatures. Lately though, other folks' willingness to take risks and make big, bold moves is pushing me along on this path of recommitment. I look at their decisions and pursuits and wonder how I could settle for holding myself back. So, it's back to the drawing board - or the editing desk. This novel will see the light of day. It will.

And that's that. An underwhelming post, I know, but it will have to do.

Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown!

"I never thought it was such a bad little tree. It's not bad at all, really. Maybe it just needs a little love." - Linus

My nephew & godson Henry was quite cooperative for this little photo shoot. He'd been Charlie Brown for Halloween (black pants, yellow shirt with a zig zag stripe drawn on it, and a naturally big, round head made for the easiest costume ever) and come Christmas time we realized we couldn't pass up the chance at this picture. I can't stop smiling from looking at it so I knew I needed to share. I dare you not to break out in a grin and hear Linus' poignant monologue begin in your head.

"Isn't there anyone who knows what Christmas is all about?!"
"Sure, Charlie Brown, I can tell you what Christmas is all about...And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, 'Fear not: for behold, I bring unto you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the City of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.' And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God, and saying, 'Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.' ...That's what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown."

Christmas is coming...

I don’t know about you but it can be awfully hard to remember what I’m preparing for during this season. Okay, not that hard. I mean, I’m buying presents, baking cookies, listening to Advent themed sermons on Sundays. Obviously it’s Christmas that we’re preparing for in these present weeks. Better put, it can be difficult to appreciate and understand the result of that which we’ll celebrate on the 25th. Contemplation is a lost art. Stillness of mind and heart can seem impossible or even counterproductive. We always have to be doing enough, saying enough, moving enough. I'm as susceptible to this as anyone. But if I quiet down and hold still, what might I find?

I might find that God is with me. I might find His presence to be full of consuming, transforming peace and joy and hope. All the things we wish for one another in our greeting cards, we’re walking through life surrounded by. They hang about us like the particles in the air of this room, invisible until we stop moving and look at where the light shines brightest.

Mary knew how to do it, always "[keeping] all these things, reflecting on them in her heart" (Luke 2:19). Joseph knew how to do it, aware that the actions he took to be the guardian of the Savior were more important than any words he could speak. So our record of him in Scripture holds no words of his own, only listening, hearing the Word of God guide him, and acting upon it. Simeon knew how to do it, waiting and praying year after year for God to reveal the Messiah. His preparation made him know that Messiah the moment he saw the Holy Family enter the temple.

"Don't we love the word 'with'? 'Will you go with me?' we ask. 'To the store, to the hospital, through my life?' God says he will. 'I am with you always,' Jesus said before he ascended into heaven, 'to the very end of the age' (Matthew 28:20). Search for restrictions on the promise; you'll find none.... Prophets weren't enough. Apostles wouldn't do. Angels won't suffice. God sent more than miracles and messages. He sent himself; he sent his Son. 'The Word became flesh and dwelt among us' (John 1:14)." (Max Lucado, Cure for the Common Life)

With a little practice now - taking a bit of time each day to pray, reading through the Scripture story of the arrival of my Savior, thinking over this extraordinary truth as I perform ordinary tasks - maybe come December 26 and into the new year, I won't forget that God is with me. Christmas brought Emmanuel, "God With Us," but every morning brings another day that He is with me, another day for me to acknowledge and thank Him for being with me, another day to speak and move and act in a manner that declares I know He is with me and I choose not to forget.

God is with us... may we always remain with God.

Snowy Night

Nature launched a blitz attack on my evening plans. The snow began mid-afternoon, millions of flakes rushing to the ground with the aid of a skin-chilling wind. It hasn't stopped. I'm attempting to focus on the sparkly blanket of beauty and not on the shoveling or the messy driving. In lieu of dinner and a movie with Matt and Nethanial, I am opting for "Without a Trace" reruns, long neglected issues of "Better Homes & Gardens," and chicken alfredo pizza.

The snow has me in the mood for slippers and writing. I'm craving progress. I'm craving the feel of my pen in my hand, the pressure of the point on the paper. I was part of a conversation today on the transition of books to a digital format. My personal preference remains old school. I'm doing my best to accept that this realm of things is changing drastically though. That the generation after me will likely be raised on digital literature is a fact I'm not going to ignore. But as I listened to the guys talk up the evolving technology I thought to myself that the delight of writing won't ever change. The satisfaction of scratching those letters onto the lined page will remain. My work can be published in whatever format anyone wants. I won't fight that. Whatever the end result, it'll start with pen and paper though. No better night to return to that work than this snowy one.