Our older daughter is a smart girl, and I don’t say this simply as her mother. She really is smart, and breezed through most of elementary school with hardly a worry. The only subject she had difficulty with was math; when we got to division, we literally had to put the book away until her brain could cope with it. (Mathematics requires a straight-line thinking pattern, which is nothing like the creative splotches of thinking that our girl has in her head.)

School got tougher in middle school, and she started slowing down in some subjects. Reading still came easily – even difficult books weren’t a problem – but research and organization (or the lack thereof) caused other problems. But they were relatively minor.

When we started high school last August, I looked at the daily lessons from Seton and didn’t see too much work for each day. I surmised that we might even be able to get done early with some subjects. We stumbled a bit, trying to find good study strategies that worked for her as a hands-on, kinetic learner, and eventually figured out a few tricks. But we never have been able to quite keep up with everything the way I thought we could.

I was really thrown for a loop here. I felt like I was hitting my head against the wall with her, like I had to drag her through every subject, no matter how easy it was supposed to be. Subjects that were “easy A” material still required me to be standing over her like a slave driver, constantly berating her to keep going. Focus! Pay attention! Why can’t you just do the test in a reasonable amount of time!!?? It was making us both miserable, and making me feel like I suddenly wasn’t able to teach my child any more. What was happening to me? Was I making a mistake in continuing to homeschool her? Could I even do it?

Then I read an article at Catholic Lane, and I realized that what I needed to do was staring me in the face.

Kindergarten schoolwork hit us like the proverbial ton of bricks. First, I yelled and screamed and fought with my daughter. Not my finest hour.  Then, I yelled and screamed and fought with various school and medical officials to get help for our daughter, who found reading, writing and arithmetic to be so terribly difficult. We obtained preferential seating and extra time on tests, we hired tutors, and I worked for hours with my daughter teaching her in the way she could best learn. Other parents skipped these “behavioral management techniques” and went straight to a medication regimen, but we persevered without it.

When my daughter began middle school, we realized behavioral management wasn’t enough. “We’re going to have her evaluated for medication,” my husband Manny and I informed the school’s vice-principal. “Good,” the vice-principal responded immediately. Still, I wondered and worried.

After this, I started considering the idea that perhaps it was time to deal with what I suspected for years: my 14 year old daughter likely has ADHD. I e-mailed Mike from Distracted Catholic with questions about his diagnosis and what I was seeing in my daughter. He was gracious enough to answer all of my questions, including the one where I asked if this was a familiar story to him. When he said it was, indeed, a lot like his experience, I made an appointment to have my daughter tested.

When I called, I learned that the testing was going to be out-of-pocket – the center does not file with insurance for ADHD testing – and I struggled for about five minutes with the idea that I was going to spend so much money on this test. When I realized that this could really make a difference for her, I berated myself for even questioning whether or not I should do it.

I ‘m waiting for the testing date to arrive, and First Things  has run an article on ADHD:

We really don’t have an ADHD epidemic in this country. Our brains are not less healthy than the French. Instead, we have an epidemic of parents looking for a scientific excuse for their own disappointment in their children, and we have a glut of lazy doctors willing to prescribe whatever drugs parents request.

Hyperactivity? Yes, many of our children are hyperactive. Inability to focus? Yes, many of our children cannot focus their attention on a particular task. I’m not saying that the symptoms of ADHD aren’t real. These symptoms, however, do not stem from biological imbalances that require medication. The problem isn’t our children; the problem is us. We’ve created their social context, and it’s not a place where they can thrive. It’s time to admit that parents are the problem, not the children.

Insulted is an understatement for how I felt when I read this article. I don’t really know much about how the French do things, but frankly, having someone basically telling parents like me that we’re lazy, that we’re doing a poor job of telling our children “no” when necessary, that we are trying to medicate our children into compliance makes me kind of want to scream.

I think my daughter would be surprised to learn that we’re lenient parents who don’t say “no” often enough. Heck, most people think we are, as Dr. Ray has put it when he speaks to homeschooling conferences, Quasi-Amish in the way we have raised our kids. We don’t lock them in the closet to prevent them from being exposed to the outside world, but we do shelter them from harmful influences until the time when we see that they’re mature enough to handle it. We aren’t permissive, and we don’t give in to the demands of our children. We don’t fill them with junk food, I do what I can to make things from scratch as much as possible, and we try to make sure they get lots of outdoor exercise. (Let’s face it, my 14 year old just finished up a season of soccer that started in January; she had four nights of two-hour practices every week. Our 11 year old just finished her school year schedule of dance with a minimum of three nights of dance per week. There’s lots of physical activity.) They go to Youth Group and Sunday school at church, we’ve been involved with other homeschoolers for co-ops, they go to birthday parties and hang out with friends when possible.

When I was a teacher, I did see some kids who just weren’t told “no” very often. Their parents never seemed to take my comments about their defiance seriously. And I worried that some boys were being put on medication for ADHD too liberally. I  thought that, perhaps, there was an over-diagnosis of the condition. (How many third-grade boys needed to be on meds? I seemed to have a lot in my classes.) I was extremely resistant to medicating my daughter, even though I knew she displayed a lot of the behaviors associated with ADHD, such as being wiggly, touching everything constantly, talking out of turn, lack of organization, etc.

But when I read the article by Caree Santos, I realized that maybe homeschooling didn’t have to feel like pulling teeth every. single. day. Maybe I was needlessly acting the slave driver part. Maybe – just maybe – my daughter couldn’t concentrate through no fault of her own, and she really was trying her best to do things quickly. Maybe it wasn’t my fault, and maybe it wasn’t hers.

And maybe there is something more I can do for her. 

ADHD
By Psyc3330 w11 (Own work) [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC-BY-SA-3.0-2.5-2.0-1.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

Note: I’ve asked my daughter to consider writing about this from her perspective, and asked her to read and approve what I’ve written. She will be contributing to this topic soon.

More people – including doctors – need to be aware of HG

Today, May 15, is Hyperemesis Gravidarum Awareness Day. Please take this opportunity to pray for women who suffer from HG and their families, and spread the word on this condition.

I’ve written about my own experience with HG, and was grateful to be able to do so on a bigger platform last December, when it was revealed that Princess Kate was suffering from it. (I cried off and on the whole week after I found out, in between being angry at the news for calling it “extreme morning sickness.”)

The first link above is more in-depth and more focused on the Catholic perspective, and the second link is boiled down to the nitty-gritty, and includes links to resources to help deal with HG.

What makes a woman who purposely gets pregnant with baby #2 lock herself in a bathroom and cry in fear only minutes after celebrating with her husband that the baby is on the way?Hyperemesis gravidarum, also known as HG. HG is scary stuff.

Take time this day to pray for women who suffer from HG and for their families. It’s nightmarish, and very often these women are encouraged to abort their precious children. So much support is needed, especially if there are other children in the home. It’s impossible for a family to get through HG alone.

When I heard this news [about Kate Middleton], I cried for the royal couple, because I know her pain rather intimately. I had hyperemesis gravidarum (HG) while pregnant with my own two children.

The press is describing it as “a severe form of morning sickness,” but this really doesn’t even come close to being an adequate definition. In fact, it’s pretty safe to say that unless you or someone you know has suffered through HG, you can’t quite imagine how awful it can be.

There’s beauty at the end of the HG tunnel

If you or someone you love is suffering from hyperemesis, you don’t have to do so alone. And you can get through it with the right help.

This post, related to mine at The New Parents’ Guide, has links to resources for families. Please pass it on. Use #HGaware on Twitter.

I didn’t just drink the Kool-Aid. I started bathing in it. 

I really loved their OS apps for the most part, including the calendar, which I found pretty simple to use and, frankly, more pleasing to the eye than Microsoft’s. I had a few qualms about the iOS calendar, but it wasn’t like I disliked either program.

And then I discovered an app that made me hide the calendar app and use it instead. And I actually paid big bucks for it, too. Me – the cheapskate – bought not one, but two apps (one for iOS, one for my desktop) that duplicated something I had for free on both platforms.

Want to know more? Check out my Tech Talk column for May at CatholicMom.com!

Worth Every Penny

The papacy is one office, not many men with their own ideas. What one pope teaches about doctrine, all popes teach about doctrine. The continuity of the papacy is not like the continuity of the US presidency. The teachings don’t change. So if one pope teaches that Marxism is evil (which, BTW, [is] the reason for yesterday’s feast day), ALL popes have taught it.

The mere fact that the pope spoke in honor of St. Joseph the Worker yesterday was, in itself, a smack down of Marxism & statism. The feast day was set for May 1 as an answer to the removal of God from people’s lives for some “workers’ cause” by Marxists.

This unspoken truth must be taken at the same time as Francis’ admonition to the world not to take advantage of workers.

Also, keep in mind he wasn’t merely speaking to us self-centered Westerners. He is the pope of *everyone*, not just the US & Europe.

He doesn’t need to cover every side of what he discusses in 1 sitting. He’s not Fox News. Very often, papal audience discussions last YEARS! Look, for instance, at John Paul II’s Theology of the Body. It was over years of Wednesday audiences that he spoke on this topic. If you pulled out 1 address, you’d be lost. You have to take the Church’s teachings as a whole, keeping in mind all prior teachings as well.

The pope never teaches for the moment. He teaches for eternity, with the understanding that all prior teachings apply here, as well.

~one~

I’ve entered my Novitiate year with the Lay Dominicans, which is now called “Received” because I’ve been accepted as someone to discern if this is, indeed, a vocation for me. There are times I’ve felt overwhelmed by the amount of work involved, and wonder how I’ll get it done, but I also know that I have plenty of time in my day which I currently fill with too-much-Twitter and goofing off. So if I apply myself and concentrate on What’s Important (or Who’s Important), I will easily be able to get my work done.

~two~

I’ve thought a lot about my vocation as a homeschooling mother, and I feel quite strongly that I am called to it as a method of sanctification. I struggle with sloth a lot, and if there was a way for me to live my life in bed with a supply of food and some fun time-wasting games to play, I probably would do that if left to my own devices. But God is not leaving me to my own devices, and I’ve become certain that my call to homeschool my children is a way to sanctify me and help me resist the temptation to waste time. When my high school daughter needs help with reviewing biology, I can’t be playing Bejeweled Blitz (now removed from my phone and Facebook). When my sixth grader needs to read history out loud, I need to help her with that instead of seeing what’s happening on Twitter.

And now  this journey with the Dominican Laity requires me to do certain things: daily Mass whenever possible, daily Rosary, daily study, meetings at least monthly. Instead of wasting time on unimportant things, I now need to become more aware of whether or not I’m doing what I ought to do. It occurred to me that between this and homeschooling, God is working to help me on a path to holiness; He, in His infinite mercy, is providing me with tools that will help me focus on my spiritual life rather than become more selfish as I get older and my children grow up and leave home. I realized today that, God willing, I will make First Promises next year and Final Promises three years after that. At that point, my younger daughter will be in tenth grade and my older daughter’s education will no longer be my responsibility. I will have found myself will fewer demands on my time which I’ve learned can be a dangerous proposition for me, spiritually speaking. So in addition to homeschooling helping me grow in holiness, I see the Lay Fraternity of Saint Dominic (LFSD) picking up where homeschooling is going to leave off in a few short years. My study with my children is going to give way to studying with the Dominicans.

~three~

Our family is going to take a trip to Boston near the end of April. I haven’t been there in more than 25 years, and I’ve never stayed there for an extended time. We’ve decided to walk the Freedom Trail, go see Old Ironsides, and (thanks to the generosity of my mother-in-law) take in a Red Sox game. I am resisting the urge to wear ALL of my Yankees gear to the game. Besides, everyone should go to Fenway if they can. Plus, and this is a great thing, we’ll get to see family we haven’t seen in ages! I’m looking forward to it, that is when I remember that I’m going somewhere. (I really need to get that Packing Pro app out and prepare a bit.)

~four~

We’re ahead, but let’s not let them get close to catching up.

Related to the Red Sox, I actually have a relative who had been the executor for the will of the Red Sox’s owners. So even though our family is filled with die-hard Yankees fans (and with a family history in The Bronx, can you blame us?), there was also a little bit of support for the Sox. Personally, I liked them better when they were under The Curse. Now that they’re constantly a threat to adding another ring, not so much.

~five~

Our family dealt with lots of sickness this winter. It seemed we’d never all be well, and things ranged from constant sniffles to low-grade fevers to flat-out scary temperatures that (for my 14 year old) topped 104º. Now that we all seem to be well (with the exception of allergies that are magnified by EVERYTHING blooming at once in our much-delayed Spring), I’m taking stock on where we are, school-wise, for the year. We’ve strived to keep up with some subjects that are tied to the co-op we’re involved with, but others will have to be finished in June or even (gulp) July. One thing I’ve finally figured out is that there are some optional parent activities with Seton Homeschool that I don’t need to do if I’m pressed for time. High school is definitely challenging, but I think I’m finally figuring it out. That I’ve done this before my older daughter is finished with her first year makes me happy. I hate when she bears the brunt of my ill-preparedness. However, we’ve figured out some strategies for her to maximize her retention, which can be a challenge for a tactile learner in a book-centered education.

One thing that will be really excellent is that at the end of it all, she’ll have an official transcript. This is going to be very helpful if and when she goes to college. And it’s also nice that someone else can take a look at her work and give tips on how to get up to snuff.

~six~

I started a series on Project Yummy Veggies this past week, and I hope to get back to it again this coming week. One key is that I need to renew my Flickr Pro account so I can link to the pictures in that set instead of uploading everything here. But I’m definitely going to blog more about it and keep up with how it’s going.

~seven~

Even though it’s Spring (not Fall), I can’t stop hearing this song in my head.

***Jennifer isn’t hosting Seven Takes this week, and I suppose this counts as an eighth, but her family could sure use some prayers. Her comments are closed right now, but please lift her and her family up in prayer right now. Head over to Grace’s blog for the rest of Seven Quick Takes this week.

Kids: But you can’t swim in a garden!

Us: Uh, huh. And you can’t eat a pool.

Our reasoning, which we explained to our family and friends, was that instead of spending several hundred dollars on the pool chemicals every Summer, we would instead invest in the garden beds and grow food that we wanted to eat: tomatoes, peppers, onions, and more.

Our kids really wanted Mitt Romney to win the election.

Alas! While President Obama planned his inauguration parties, our family made plans for what kind of gardens we would have: how large, how many, what to grow in them, when to start? In addition, we decided we wanted to up the ante on our composting habits to help support the new adventure in sustenance farming.

We came up with some ideas from a couple of blogs and drew plans on graph paper and made lists of what supplies we’d need from Lowe’s. My husband and I had meetings over coffee while the girls were in Sunday school. And he put in for vacation time so we could concentrate on getting the garden put together as quickly as possible.

So here begins an ongoing series of posts on what I started to call Project Yummy Veggies (which I thought was nicer than Obama Garden). I’ll be adding to my series a little at a time, showing off pictures and videos of our project.

To start you off, though, here’s a picture of the light dusting of snow we got just a few days before the project began in earnest on March 11:

Good-bye, pool! It was nice knowing you!

“Sorrow” by Vincent van Gogh

There is a mortal sin in my past life that is painful to me to think about. I regret in on many levels, including that level at which I understand that I did something to hurt God, to separate myself from Him, that put  my eternal soul in jeopardy. For years after, I would go to Reconciliation Services but not go to a priest for absolution. Instead, I would sit in the pew afterwards and cry, wishing I felt that I could go to the God of Mercy with my sorrows. I didn’t know about the sin of despair, but I suppose I was right in the thick of it.

Finally, years later, I forced myself to go to Confession for the first time in…well, forever. It was my first Confession at my new parish, and I finally unloaded the guilt I’d been feeling for years. My priest said to me, “First, thank God you are here. But your children need you; your family needs you…” and he proceeded to speak to me the most beautiful words in the world: the words of absolution. I cried tears of joy as I left the church that day, and felt lighter than I’d felt in longer than I could remember.

But I couldn’t stop feeling badly any time it crossed my mind. I continued to feel horrible guilt over it. I did not doubt that I was forgiven, but I just couldn’t forgive myself.

As the years went on in our new parish, I had disagreements with my pastor over certain heterodoxies that were happening in our parish. I started going to a different confessor, though we never changed parishes. The priest at the other parish was orthodox and had a simple and child-like love for God.

One day, a friend told me that there are graces to be had for mentioning sins from your past life during Confession, even if already confessed, to show your sorrow for them. So I brought this sin that burdened me to the Confessional again. I shed tears again over my guilt and regret, as if I hadn’t even confessed it before. “I know I’ve been forgiven, Father, but it burdens me…”

This priest, who was nothing like my own pastor – they weren’t even from the same country or background! – began to council me:

“First, thank God you are here. But your children need you; your family needs you…”

I caught my breath suddenly, because I knew that I wasn’t actually talking to the priest at that moment. There, in the Confessional, was Jesus. He was hearing my sins and my sorrow for them. He was there to offer His abundant mercies and forgiveness. And even though He knew I taught my own children this fact, He also knew that I hurt so badly over my wrongdoing that He needed to make it really clear that this was not just what we teach our kids. It’s real. It’s true.

The Hidden Reality of Confession

Jesus was with me in Confession that day, just like always. The difference was, He gave me a great gift: a sign to remind me of it.

The rest of what was said is a little blurred, but I do remember this: this feeling of guilt that I cannot let go of is not from God. God has forgotten that sin and forgiven me completely. It’s Satan who reminds me and brings about guilty feelings for sins long forgiven.

Any time I meet someone who feels unsure about returning to Confession after a long time away, I encourage them to go back. If necessary, I tell this story to them. Many priests I know have told me that what’s said in the Confessional doesn’t stick in their heads. They simply don’t remember it. And I know why, too. It’s Jesus behind the screen.

The Floor of Death Valley – By Paxson Woelber (Own work) [CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

At least for me, a mid-life crisis is nothing more or less than a realization that every day brings us a little closer to that point when all we have left is God, and that we may be closer to that point than we thought we were. It sounds kind of depressing, like something I’d shout into the phone at Joe at 3 PM when I’m exhausted and the baby won’t nap and someone just spilled yogurt on the wall (“ALL I HAVE LEFT IS GOD!!!”), but it’s really quite inspiring. To go through a mid-life crisis and to come out the other side is to go through a process of purification, in which you accept the things that are gone, and realize that they were were never the source of true happiness to begin with.

Her collection of posts on spiritual dryness has been inspiring to me, and really helpful on a number of levels. For one, I had never heard of this idea (or a “Dark Night of the Soul,” as Saint John of the Cross described it) until about 8 years ago, when I was describing to a friend my horrible experiences with hyperemesis and the deep depression I felt the second time through it. I’d been blessed with great consolations in my faith as a child, and when I lacked them during my second pregnancy, it was panic-inducing.

…While I had great hope each day when I was pregnant with Big Girl, it was not so this time. When the HG struck me, I went into a deep depression. My OB sent me directly to the same high-risk OB as last time, and I was put on Thorazine right away. This time, though, it didn’t work as well. Whereas, with Big Girl, each night I went to sleep thinking that the next day might be better, this time I went to sleep thinking, “I have 20 weeks of this hell to get through.” It was devastating to my Faith. I knew God was there, but I felt abandoned. I could not feel Him there at all. I could not even pray. I brought my father to tears when I asked him why God was punishing me. I never, ever considered abortion with either pregnancy, but this time I would wish for miscarriage just so the pain would end. …

Only later, when talking about it with a friend, did I ever hear of spiritual dryness or dark nights. While I had never doubted God was there, many times the only thing I could think of when I wanted to pray was part of Psalm 22: My God, my God! Why have You forsaken me?

And yet, once she mentioned this to me, I began to see it in other places, too. Many saints experienced the same thing, and when I learned that Blessed Mother Teresa had a dark night of the soul that lasted nearly 40 years, it brought me to tears. Here was a woman, I thought, who never doubted God’s existence and worked to fulfill His will for her, even when she had no consolations. It’s a comfort to know that not only ordinary people, but even those we look to as saints, experience this dryness.

By Tom Bayly from England (British Night Sky Uploaded by russavia) [CC-BY-SA-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

It’s Easter, and all my Catholic friends are rejoicing and Alleluia-ing everywhere. And I’m here struggling to get to evening Mass or sit through Adoration. I pray “Alleluia” during Lauds and Vespers, but I don’t feel it. I know He is Risen (truly, He is risen!), and yet my heart doesn’t feel it.

And yet I know that if I persevere in prayer and continue to feed my soul by going to Mass when I don’t feel like it, praying a Rosary when I’m not in the mood, maintaining my morning and evening prayers, that this is like watering and feeding plants during a drought: the roots will grow deeper and stronger, and when the drought is over, big things can happen.

Saint Thomas Aquinas

And so I’m trying to thank God for the dryness I’m still experiencing. If I keep going, I will grow in maturity. If I maintain and pray anyway, I will grow stronger. If I wait on the Lord, He will not disappoint. I know this. And what I’m also grateful for is that I even know this. It’s such a help to understand that it’s not bad that spiritual dryness happens. It’s not my fault. It’s not wrong. It’s okay. God is here with me in the darkness, even if I can’t see Him. The words of Saint Thomas Aquinas – though meant to describe the Eucharist – also apply here:

Faith for all defects supplying,
Where the feeble senses fail.

At some point, I’m sure that consolation will return, and I’ll cry tears of joy for it. But in the meantime, I’m going to keep feeding my soul whether I feel it or not. And I’ll thank God for His mercy and love, even when I don’t feel it readily.

Last night, while praying Vespers, I had a bit of a lightbulb moment as I read the New Testament reading:

READING 1 Peter 2:4-5

Come to the Lord, a living stone, rejected by men but approved, nonetheless, and precious in God’s eyes. You too are living stones, built as an edifice of spirit into a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.

Quo Vadis? by Annibale Carracci

Jesus is the Living Cornerstone, rejected by the builders, Who makes us living stones to build up His Church.

And, if the world rejects the Cornerstone, chances are they aren’t going to be really fond of the rest of the stones God gives them, either. I’ve really been stuck lately thinking about the world’s rejection of Christian influence – at least in Western culture. I am not being defeatist about it, for I know Who wins in the end. And my hope is not in this world – in princes or governments or their laws – but is in Christ Jesus Himself. And I know that no matter how bad things get, the gates of Hell will never prevail against God’s Church. I’ll always have a home on earth in the Church, and if I stick with her, she’ll get me to Heaven to my real home.

But I can’t get away from the idea that we are moving rapidly into a time when the Culture of Death reigns in America.

I’ve heard some Christians say that America is the world’s best hope, but this is completely untrue. Jesus Himself said that the world would hate us, just as it hated Him. He calls on us to pick up our crosses and follow Him. He promised persecution. And we won’t be spared just because we love the Lord and strive to do His will. To think so would be heresy. God promised us the opposite in this life, as a matter of fact.

When we become living stones in the Lord’s Church, we’ll get the same treatment as Jesus did. It won’t all be dark, but we certainly are not to be spared our share of sufferings in the name of the Lord. Some will be small ones – perhaps someone attempts to slander you unfairly – and some will be larger ones – perhaps you risk fines and jail for refusing to obey an unjust law.

What really matters is what we do with our sufferings. God knows we’ll try to avoid them when we can, but when we cannot … then what?

Do we offer these sufferings up as Jesus did, for the good of others? Do we bear all wrongs patiently, as Jesus did? Do we accept that sometimes, despite our best efforts, we have rough patches to go through? Do we show our mourning or do we wash our faces and present ourselves to the world as people with an inner, sublime kind of joy?

Lord, help me bear my sufferings with patience. Allow me the graces to endure to the end for Your name’s sake. May all I do and say give you glory and further the interests of You and your Holy Church.

Crucifixion of Jesus (Russian Icon) by Dionisius

Jesus died outside the gate, to sanctify the people by his own blood. Let us go to him outside the camp, bearing the insult which he bore. For here we have no lasting city; we are seeking one which is to come. Through him let us continually offer God a sacrifice of praise, that is, the fruit of lips which acknowledge his name.

By magister at he.wikipedia (Originally from he.wikipedia) [see page for license], from Wikimedia Commons

In years past, I might not have thought about it except in the terms Saint Paul is speaking in to the recipients of the letter he wrote. His fellow Jews-turned-Christians, being rejected and shunned by their fellow Jews who do not believe the Gospel. How heartbreaking it must have been for them to be rejected by family and friends because of their belief in Jesus as Christ. Saint Paul encouraged them to hold fast to the Christ, knowing that their true home is Heaven, where Jesus promised that He would prepare a place for us.

But these days, I’ve felt under assault. I gave up Twitter for Lent, as I’ve found it to be a good way to clear my head and get away from the shouting (so to speak) that tends to occur there. There can be a lot of vitriol on all sides of every issue, and even though I’ve been culling my follow list to gradually eliminate people who have nothing but this kind of attitude, it still wears on me. So with the exception of a few hours on the Feast of Saint Joseph, I haven’t been on Twitter’s site. My blog and Flickr pictures both auto-post there, as well as Facebook, but aside from that, I haven’t been on.

Then came the Supreme Court hearing on gay “marriage.”

HRC’s New Symbol

Suddenly, I was feeling just as assaulted on Facebook. I felt more and more frantic as the day went on. It didn’t help that I had started following the actor George Takei, who in the past had one of the funniest feeds I’ve ever seen. I’m telling you, the guy has some of the funniest graphics, filled with geek humor and puns, and it’s almost always hilarious to read. There were occasional posts of his where he’d celebrate his homosexuality or make mention of his “husband,” but it was easy to simply scroll past the posts, since the vast majority of them were just these silly puns and geeky pictures about Sci Fi/Fantasy topics.

But beginning on Tuesday, when he decided to switch his profile picture to the red equal sign, his feed changed from the occasional post on homosexuality to a non-stop barrage of nothing BUT homosexual “marriage” posts. One after another, filling my feed, in my face, with comments showing below (only two or three at a time) calling people who don’t support redefining marriage as bigots, haters, the equivalent of racists, idiots, etc. Seeing the occasional red equal sign or post in favor from family and friends wasn’t going to make me un-friend them, but a non-stop, nothing-but-gay-”marriage” stream was enough for me to un-like Takei’s page and decide to take a break from Facebook for the Triduum.

As Jayne would say, it was damaging my calm.

I’ve been feeling more and more as though our culture is less and less okay with people truly living their faith. Oh, going to church on Sundays is fine, but don’t bring your beliefs with you to work or into your business. Don’t tell us what you think if you’re in the public eye or have a big business. (Unless, of course, you support the Culture of Death; then it’s fine to talk about your beliefs and let them guide your business model.) It’s fine if your Catholic belief wants you to go out and perform the Corporal Works of Mercy, but don’t tell me that those same beliefs demand that you not give material cooperation to mortal sins like abortion and contraception. Paying for those things for other people is now considered a human right!

America is not what she once was; in fact, I’d say she’s pretty close to gone. And things are not going back to the way they were.

This isn’t said in despair. It’s a fact. Our culture worships the orgasm, as Frank Weathers would say. Our culture believes in choice as long as it’s related to unrestricted sex, but not if it has to do with actual laws written down, the right to life, or even the right to practice and live out our faith on a daily basis. The very idea that a person’s faith would inform every aspect of his life is anathema to our Culture of Death.

The Rich Young Man by Ai.kefu

And yet this is exactly what we’re called to. Now that we know the Gospel, what do we do with it? What impact will it have on our lives? Any at all? Will it change us forever? Will we be as the rich young man, who was offered Christ Himself and turned away because his life as he was living it was too good, or will we be as Matthew, who saw that as good as his life might be, it was nothing in comparison to living a life with Jesus.

Even though I have seen the story about the rich young man geared towards the vocation of the priest, I also can see it as every one of us in many ways. Are we willing to give up all of our comforts, even if it’s gradual and one at a time, in order to be faithful followers of Christ? Are we willing to be different, to live differently than others (and even our past selves) in order to live as Christians?

Are we willing to endure ridicule, persecution, and the pain of lost friendships for standing firm in our beliefs and following the doctrines of our Church? Are we willing, if it comes to it, to lose everything just to be with Him?

In this life, we have no city. Our true home is in Heaven with God. One of the first questions in the old Baltimore Catechism reminded us of this fact:

Question: Why did God make you?

Answer: God made me to know Him, to love Him, and to serve Him in this world, and to be happy with Him forever in the next.

As times become darker for Christians in this world, it will do well for us to remember:

For here we have no lasting city; we are seeking one which is to come.

The Calling of Saint Matthew by Hendrick ter Brugghen