What A Difference A Day Makes

I'm not working tomorrow. There came an urgent need to take a day off. Just one day. A day not intended for other plans and occupations. A true day off. Granted, it's probably not all that urgent and might not qualify as a genuine need. Still, it's close enough. What shall I do? What shall I do with my day? There is something glorious, as many of you working folks and at home parents alike can verify, in the prospect of a day available for whatever you choose. The gloriousness does not come from planning on using it irresponsibly. Neither does it come from scheduling hour after hour with useful accomplishments to be made. It comes from the freedom to make of it what you will.

So I sit here, thinking through the keyboard, listening to Patty Griffin, considering a snack before bed and smiling over the notion of tomorrow. Of course I'm thinking of a dozen ways to use the hours but I'm not allowing myself to actually plan on any of them. I know I'll start the day with prayer and then... who knows.

At The Library

After work yesterday I spent a good half hour or so among the books. Library... synonym for sanctuary, at least in my personal thesaurus. As I hadn't been to our library here in Appleton for more than five minutes in the last several months, the visit yesterday had me thinking about the hours I've spent in libraries in the course my twenty-nine years. Countless, really.

In junior high and high school, my sister and I walked after school to the tiny public library in our town. Two blocks from the school (those two blocks being the length of our 'downtown'), it was a squat, square building filled with shelves of delight. Jessica and I spent numerous afternoons there. Starting our homework, naturally, but more importantly, searching the stacks. That library is where we got hold of every single Sweet Valley High, Babysitter's Club, Nancy Drew, and Ramona book ever written. It's where we discovered Gilbert Morris, Lori Wick and Janette Oke. Heck, it's even where we discovered the nonsensical fun of People magazine. And it's where I first opened the pages of Pride & Prejudice. I can still picture that copy in my mind: large, with a dark green hard cover and drawn illustrations interspersed among the chapters.

Occasionally we'd stop at the larger library in the relatively larger town nearby (Menominee). I never knew my way around this two story stone building that well and each visit felt like an exploration. This one had wide bow windows overlookng the marina and Lake Michigan and thus I learned how remarkably well water views and reading go together.

I never liked the library at Grand Valley State. It was unwelcoming and hard. When I transferred to Franciscan though, I loved my library once again. Softer lighting, comfortable chairs, beautiful volumes.... A friend secured me a part time position as a clerk and I spent a few quiet hours behind the counter and returning books to their proper homes. I sporadically wondered how happy I'd be as a librarian.

The Appleton public library is unremarkable but adequate. I don't spend a lot of time there as it doesn't provide the cozy security I associate with the libraries I've loved. Nevertheless, the occasional visit - for longer than five minutes to pick something up that I have on hold - remains a delight to me. I will always feel at home among the books.

How Small a Fire

I fell asleep while reading Persuasion. All the Jane Austen novels are worth reading (though Mansfield Park perhaps only once) but it is Persuasion that I return to time and time again. It is my literary comfort food. Among other things, the story is a demonstration of the terrible power of words. Words to persuade and convince, words to manipulate, words to hide behind, and words left unspoken for far too long. Only when words are spoken in humble honesty, without guile but with hope and courage, only then are things set aright and happiness slips into the grasp of the long suffering hero and heroine.

As this and other things this week have me considering the power of our words, the passage from James Chapter 3 came aptly to mind.

"If we put bits into the mouths of horses to make them obey us, we also guide their whole bodies. It is the same with ships: even though they are so large and driven by fierce winds, they are steered by a very small rudder wherever the pilot's inclination wishes. In the same way the tongue is a small member and yet has great pretensions. Consider how small a fire can set a huge forest ablaze. The tongue is also a fire. It exists among our members as a world of malice, defiling the whole body and setting the entire course of our lives on fire, itself set on fire by Gehenna. For every kind of beast and bird, of reptile and sea creature, can be tamed and has been tamed by the human species, but no human being can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison. With it we bless the Lord and Father, and with it we curse human beings who are made in the likeness of God. From the same mouth come blessing and cursing. This need not be so, my brothers." (vv. 3-10)

It's a dire outlook on human communication but one that is unfortunately justified again and again. With the same mouth we worship God on Sunday mornings then tear down our neighbor, a priceless human being made in the image of God. "From the same mouth come blessing and cursing. This need not be so..." This need not be so. That comment cuts me to the quick. Encouragement and discouragement; love and hate; hope and fear; honesty and dishonesty; and on and on. Are we even aware of the fires we set with our words? Daily we engage in communication with one another, from the spouse to the stranger, and none of our words are without effect. None of them.

If we consider the power of our words for ill, are they not equally capable of good? Were we but more conscious of ourselves, more attuned to the responses of the other person, more concerned with building up another than ourselves... oh the good that could be done. Instead of violent fires, the flames set might be lamps added to one another's paths - paths often difficult enough to walk without us multiplying the difficulty for each other. Yes, the good that could be done.

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.