My daughter gave me a very proud moment on Friday, as a mother, that was quickly saddened by the broken heart of my son. It was not life changing, mind altering or faith shaking, but it made me sit back and reflect on how to cope with daily issues between my children and the consequences the smallest actions may have on their hearts. I usually do not have time to think about all of the issues they are faced with day to day, unless it presents a big problem with them moving to the next, in between all of the activities, school work and chores that four children present. Today, I had to sit back and wait for the outcome, which as a mother is sometimes the hardest thing to do. You see, I am not very good at surrendering my children's lives to God, especially of it means heart break or disappointment. So here is my confession to God..."Please give me the grace to accept things I cannot control or change and the wisdom to help my children understand things that may hurt in life."
She was awarded the Peace Maker award, it is given three times a year to kids in school who exemplary compassion, good work ethic and over all good character. She was surprised to get it, but had made it her goal this year to achieve it. So as we woke Friday morning, we all got ready for the day, as if nothing was different. We didn't want her to know we were going to Mass to ruin it. Her kindergarten brother, Aidan, got up extra early that day, dressed, brushed his hair, put on a tie, sprayed on cologne and waited anxiously to go. When asked why he was up so early, he proudly replied, "It is Peace Maker Mass today and I just know I will be chosen!" My heart just sank, as I knew he was not chosen and his sister was. What do you do as a parent? I didn't want to spoil anything and I anticipated the anguish he would feel when his name was not called...to make matters worse, his sister, whom he was fighting with the night before would get it. I immediately wanted to intervene, tell him something to make him know he would not be chosen, but that it would be OK. My husband, disagreed and said to let it all play out. So I did. Mind you, he is not always the one who is right in these situations, I am...so says my ego.
I watched as he left for school with them and got dressed so I could be there for Mass. I was nervous and felt guilty for going to see my daughter when I knew her brother would be sad. (My oldest child was given the award his kindergarten year and so far has proven to be big shoes to follow at school). I met my husband there and sat through mass, with the guilt of what was to come, trying to think of how I would console his hurt. I was so afraid that he would be upset and think the award was dumb and not ever try to get it again. I just could not figure out what to say and instead of relishing in the joy for my daughter, I felt consumed by the guilt of her siblings. I know that there are always times with children in which one is in the spotlight, but that is usually expected by the other children and they know it is their moment.
Mass came and went and my daughter was elated to get her award. Afterwards, I went by the playground where her brother was and was expecting the worse. To my surprise, I found him happily playing as he bounded towards to me to tell me of his sister's award. He was so proud and yet had forgotten his own want for the award. He was so much more resilient and forgiving than I was. He was not jealous, did not feel sorry for himself or even seem a bit bothered by it at all. All of my fears were unfounded and the semi-ulcer that I had worked up in my anticipation of his anguish, was gone. I have to confess, I was pleasantly surprised and very proud of his reaction. I didn't have the faith in him that he would be able to handle it and again, I felt guilt for not believing in him. It was ultimately a win-win for both of them wrapped in self-caused apprehension on my part. This was a big lesson for me in the will of my children. He had the composure and grace to accept what was not his, yet the only person who was freaking out about it was me!
So from that, I am placing into God's hands, my children and their expectations in life. No matter how hard I want to or how I try to, I will never be able to control what is going to happen for them. I have to have the faith that their father and I have instilled in them the ability to handle adversities, even if I know that disappointment is coming...I have to let it happen and help them to grow from it. It kills me to know that is the case, but in the end, I and they, will grow spiritually closer to Him for it.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Apologies
I have to apologize for the lack of posts in the last three days. I am finding it very hard to write daily, work close to full time and be class room mother for all of the end of the year activities for 2 of my kids classrooms. My confession, along with a new post for the morning, is to ask for patience and I learn to juggle all of these things. I didn't realize how exhausting it all would be, but I am going to keep it up...just with a little of God's help...well, a lot of His help!
I usually do not ask for prayers for myself...but this week, I can't seem to muster the energy to pray myself a lot. That sounds horrible and against everything I am teaching my children. I know there is always a light, but this week, Dear God, I am confessing that I need a little extra energy, spare time and patience...
I usually do not ask for prayers for myself...but this week, I can't seem to muster the energy to pray myself a lot. That sounds horrible and against everything I am teaching my children. I know there is always a light, but this week, Dear God, I am confessing that I need a little extra energy, spare time and patience...
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Humankind Is Fallible, God Is Not: Confession 7
In response to yesterday's email, I wanted to take a moment to separate two central questions that the writer had. (1) How could I believe in God and (2) how could I support a religion with a sometimes heinous history?
My confession today, although I love the Church and what it represents, I do not always love the people who have been placed in charge to lead it. It is a simple equation really, just like being a mother, I love my children with every fiber of my being, believe in them, support them and hope that I have given them the guidance and wisdom to use their free will to shine and contribute to humanity. However, I sometimes do not like the choices they make and will never condone something if they are wrong. I tell my boys particularly, that they do not have to worry about girls they hurt...they better fear me if they chose to hurt one in an arrogant and self serving way. Ok, so it is a little bit of Catholic guilt I have instilled in them, but overall, I want them to have formed conscious minds to not have to take on the "Wrath of Mommy" should they make a bad or life altering decision.
I feel the same way about the church. I was not always Catholic, I have recently come into my "Catholicism" in the past few years. I did know the church and was baptized Catholic, but it meant nothing more than siting uncomfortably in the pews for an hour every sporadic Sunday we went or on Holidays...that was at least better because I could show off my new dress clothes. Not all of my family was Catholic and from the time I could read all of the stories in the media of the heinous acts that sexual abusers had done, I feared it a little because I didn't want to relate to a religion that accepted that as a way to God. Besides, after growing up with years of sexual abuse by my father and his acquaintances, I could not see how God could stand by or promote a particular religion that harbored predators. After all, according to the media, that was all it was about, money, power, sex and greed. I was determined to stay as far away from that as I could and I would never raise my children in the faith.
I guess, God proved me wrong. I spent many years without a primary faith, I was Christian and believed in Christ, when it was convenient for me or I needed a prayer answered. You know, because God was the vengeful one, whom I feared and would cast down judgment on me when my life was over. He had so many times turned his back on me in my childhood. But Jesus, was not like that, the Son of God was more forgiving and understood what I had been through, as he had walked on earth too. Don't even ask me about the Holy Spirit, that scared the hell out of me, as if something was spying on me for God. I learned to curse and blame God and cry to Jesus when life seemed inconsolable and unfair. Never did I once consider they were all three in the same.
When I really began to study, learn and to understand about my faith, I did it on my own, not because I was spoon fed, cradled into it or forced to accept it. One day as I was struggling to accept the path of my life, I said, "Ok, God, I have been lost and I need you to tell me where to go." After that, many things, lessons and truths just seemed to fall into place. I had to give up my fear of God to let him in. I have always told my children, that fear is their worst enemy. Human beings are funny at times, especially when their egos get the best of them. When we do not understand or try to learn something foreign to us, we began to fear it. When we fear something, we began to resent it and get angry. When we get angry, we react in judgment and thus, the chain has begun...just look at how wars begin...so many in the name of God, yet, the people fighting in them were never further away from Him at that moment.
I have had to sit back and examine this with the Church. First, I want to say, that there is never an excuse for any type of abuse, especially from a person in a position of trust. But the cases of abuse are not just indicative to the Church. In most cases, it is brought to light because there is substantial financial gain to be made. This is not to ever take away from the victims or their families and as a survivor, I am empathetic to their healing. There is no amount of money that will ever cure the horrific experiences of sex abuse. I discovered that all of this is a bigger, worldly problem, sort of like the 1000lb. gorilla in the room, of abuse that society does not always acknowledge. For example there is just are almost as many cases of abuse within the Protestant and Jewish religions, comparatively by numbers, and the rate of sex abuse within Public Schools doubles that of all the Religious entities. Yet, the Catholic Church is exposed in the media over 1000 times more than public schools. Many would argue it is because of different political positions within the media and many would argue money. You cannot sue a public entity, they have caps as to what they have to pay, Churches are exempt from that and may have to pay what a jury decided. In either case, this is wrong completely. We need to hold human beings to higher levels of accountability, whether they are teachers, clergy, political leaders or Joe Schmo in the rural countryside. Again, this is a bigger issue, away from the Church, it is a human issue and needs to be addressed.
As hard as some of the stories are and as much as it makes you question your faith, one must understand that we are lumping God and His word into a human fallacy. We are taking the cases of abuse and attributing them to God as if He was the perpetrator. In some cases, it is hard to think that people use God to get put into positions of trust to abuse, but that is not what God had intended. He still gives us free will and as a Father, He loves us even when we fail to meet his expectations. He will never condone it, nor will he pretend it is OK, He use the lessons to teach us and it ultimately will bring us closer to Him. When I learned to separate the human hierarchy of my Church, with the truth, knowledge and wisdom that God has blessed it with, I learned to love Him more and understand that the faith is not indicative to human error. Human beings caused the discrepancies within the Church, not God, it was caused by failing to surrender to Him and letting personal ego control their souls. Ultimately, my faith has nothing to do with the people who represent Him. There are people who do good within it and it is through their light that I am empowered. Those people greatly outweigh the ones who are bad. I would not stop sending my children to school because there are cases of abuse, so why would I stop my belief in God because abuse happens to people, by people?
The greatest gift and sacrifice He gives us is free will, the ability to learn and to decipher what is right for us. The greatest gift we can give in return is to love each other and be the light he illuminates for us. If there is one important thing I would like for my children to learn, it is to believe in their hearts and trust that God's will is always stronger than theirs is. So while I cannot tangibly prove to my atheist letter writer that God is "real", I can show them by raising my children to walk in His image. For there is no one on earth who can love them more than I do, but I am comforted in knowing that there is one entity who does love them more...even after our short time on earth is finished.
My confession today, although I love the Church and what it represents, I do not always love the people who have been placed in charge to lead it. It is a simple equation really, just like being a mother, I love my children with every fiber of my being, believe in them, support them and hope that I have given them the guidance and wisdom to use their free will to shine and contribute to humanity. However, I sometimes do not like the choices they make and will never condone something if they are wrong. I tell my boys particularly, that they do not have to worry about girls they hurt...they better fear me if they chose to hurt one in an arrogant and self serving way. Ok, so it is a little bit of Catholic guilt I have instilled in them, but overall, I want them to have formed conscious minds to not have to take on the "Wrath of Mommy" should they make a bad or life altering decision.
I feel the same way about the church. I was not always Catholic, I have recently come into my "Catholicism" in the past few years. I did know the church and was baptized Catholic, but it meant nothing more than siting uncomfortably in the pews for an hour every sporadic Sunday we went or on Holidays...that was at least better because I could show off my new dress clothes. Not all of my family was Catholic and from the time I could read all of the stories in the media of the heinous acts that sexual abusers had done, I feared it a little because I didn't want to relate to a religion that accepted that as a way to God. Besides, after growing up with years of sexual abuse by my father and his acquaintances, I could not see how God could stand by or promote a particular religion that harbored predators. After all, according to the media, that was all it was about, money, power, sex and greed. I was determined to stay as far away from that as I could and I would never raise my children in the faith.
I guess, God proved me wrong. I spent many years without a primary faith, I was Christian and believed in Christ, when it was convenient for me or I needed a prayer answered. You know, because God was the vengeful one, whom I feared and would cast down judgment on me when my life was over. He had so many times turned his back on me in my childhood. But Jesus, was not like that, the Son of God was more forgiving and understood what I had been through, as he had walked on earth too. Don't even ask me about the Holy Spirit, that scared the hell out of me, as if something was spying on me for God. I learned to curse and blame God and cry to Jesus when life seemed inconsolable and unfair. Never did I once consider they were all three in the same.
When I really began to study, learn and to understand about my faith, I did it on my own, not because I was spoon fed, cradled into it or forced to accept it. One day as I was struggling to accept the path of my life, I said, "Ok, God, I have been lost and I need you to tell me where to go." After that, many things, lessons and truths just seemed to fall into place. I had to give up my fear of God to let him in. I have always told my children, that fear is their worst enemy. Human beings are funny at times, especially when their egos get the best of them. When we do not understand or try to learn something foreign to us, we began to fear it. When we fear something, we began to resent it and get angry. When we get angry, we react in judgment and thus, the chain has begun...just look at how wars begin...so many in the name of God, yet, the people fighting in them were never further away from Him at that moment.
I have had to sit back and examine this with the Church. First, I want to say, that there is never an excuse for any type of abuse, especially from a person in a position of trust. But the cases of abuse are not just indicative to the Church. In most cases, it is brought to light because there is substantial financial gain to be made. This is not to ever take away from the victims or their families and as a survivor, I am empathetic to their healing. There is no amount of money that will ever cure the horrific experiences of sex abuse. I discovered that all of this is a bigger, worldly problem, sort of like the 1000lb. gorilla in the room, of abuse that society does not always acknowledge. For example there is just are almost as many cases of abuse within the Protestant and Jewish religions, comparatively by numbers, and the rate of sex abuse within Public Schools doubles that of all the Religious entities. Yet, the Catholic Church is exposed in the media over 1000 times more than public schools. Many would argue it is because of different political positions within the media and many would argue money. You cannot sue a public entity, they have caps as to what they have to pay, Churches are exempt from that and may have to pay what a jury decided. In either case, this is wrong completely. We need to hold human beings to higher levels of accountability, whether they are teachers, clergy, political leaders or Joe Schmo in the rural countryside. Again, this is a bigger issue, away from the Church, it is a human issue and needs to be addressed.
As hard as some of the stories are and as much as it makes you question your faith, one must understand that we are lumping God and His word into a human fallacy. We are taking the cases of abuse and attributing them to God as if He was the perpetrator. In some cases, it is hard to think that people use God to get put into positions of trust to abuse, but that is not what God had intended. He still gives us free will and as a Father, He loves us even when we fail to meet his expectations. He will never condone it, nor will he pretend it is OK, He use the lessons to teach us and it ultimately will bring us closer to Him. When I learned to separate the human hierarchy of my Church, with the truth, knowledge and wisdom that God has blessed it with, I learned to love Him more and understand that the faith is not indicative to human error. Human beings caused the discrepancies within the Church, not God, it was caused by failing to surrender to Him and letting personal ego control their souls. Ultimately, my faith has nothing to do with the people who represent Him. There are people who do good within it and it is through their light that I am empowered. Those people greatly outweigh the ones who are bad. I would not stop sending my children to school because there are cases of abuse, so why would I stop my belief in God because abuse happens to people, by people?
The greatest gift and sacrifice He gives us is free will, the ability to learn and to decipher what is right for us. The greatest gift we can give in return is to love each other and be the light he illuminates for us. If there is one important thing I would like for my children to learn, it is to believe in their hearts and trust that God's will is always stronger than theirs is. So while I cannot tangibly prove to my atheist letter writer that God is "real", I can show them by raising my children to walk in His image. For there is no one on earth who can love them more than I do, but I am comforted in knowing that there is one entity who does love them more...even after our short time on earth is finished.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Confession 6: Thankful for the Atheists
I opened my email today and there were a few letters of support from people all who have read my blogs and relate to them. I have to say, although I love the notes from my mom, there is more validity to people who I do not know! As my mom has to love my writing!) There was one in particular, that was so unexpected, I had to take a moment to read it and let it resonate with me. I sat and reread it, read it again; out loud and in my head. I waited and prayed...it never did, there was no resonation in my soul with this letter or to the person who wrote it. It was mean, accusatory, at times unintelligible and a little demeaning. Had I received a year or so ago, I may questioned many of the motives within in and may have shut down the blog and let my thoughts be just that...my own thoughts. I would have not known how to exactly defend myself and would have probably written back out of anger, not wisdom. With that said, I found myself today feeling appreciative that I had received this note, because in some surreal sense, it meant that it caused someone to step outside their comfort level and think of something higher. So I am thankful for being on a higher level to understand it, but also to be able to respond from my heart and for the chance to let God do some of the talking on this one.
While I will not share all of the details or post the email for people to read, I will share some of the questions that were in it, some were honest and others were just irrationally mean. The first sentence began with..."I am sorry for your children, that their mother has been blinded by a faith which there is no God for and a religion that promotes sexual abuse and hides it."
Go ahead, reread that, I sure as heck had to...how does someone compassionately respond to such an accusation as if I promoted all of the bad things within my faith and let my children be hurt by them. The next one said, "If there really is a God, then why doesn't he show who he is and why doesn't he heal the world of all the bad things that happen...I am sorry for your ignorance and sheepish following, but most of all I am sorry for your children whom you are teaching to be bigots."
Yeah, that paragraph is wonderfully perplexing...go ahead and reread it again!! Seriously, had this been last year, I would have slammed this email back with angry words, a how dare you attitude and a "God" will show you in the end kind of come back. I would have fumed on it all day and called my friends in disgust as if I was the victim of a horrific attack on my personal character. I would probably have been most hurt by the accusation that I am not a good example for my children and I am leading them on a path full of lies and deceit. I would have called a "girls night" happy hour in which I could console my wounded heart with some good, like-minded friends and an Amaretto sour...probably two, throwing in a few carbohydrate filling comfort foods to make it all better. I would show them...as I carried it angrily away from my heart for such ignorant words!
Not today...although a Girl's Night is much deserved and needed to maintain sanity every few weeks! I sat for a moment and prayed. I prayed for the wisdom to even answer such an email and I prayed for my heart to not take it personally. Most of all, I prayed for this "devout Atheist" as they put it, I prayed for their heart to be softened and see what joy that I have found in my own. In the midst of my prayer, it made me realize a couple of things. (1.) When you write publicly, you are bound to find people who do not agree with you and (2.) I thanked God for this Atheist email, it caused me to take a moment to be closer to Him and find the answers inside of my heart. See, I can handle not being agreed with, or else I would have had robots and dogs to raise, not children. But questioning me on the life experiences that has lead to my faith, that is something that is harder to release from my heart.
You see each day, I wake up and go on in my life, I am prayerful, I am kind and I try to be an example for my children...even when I want to sell them to a South American prison because I am convinced they are possessed! (Moms, you know the days I am talking about, no one wants to admit it for fear that Social Services will be calling and your perfect June Clever image is outed for Mommy Dearest; those days when you just need a "mommy time out".) Even then, on the hardest of days, I may ask God, "why this is happening?", but I never say God, "I do not believe you are there." I can't imagine ever living in a world without hope or the knowledge that this is all for not. Scientifically, I know my body will go back into the ground and the super-computer which is my brain will cease to work...but not my soul...the one connection I have to a higher existence, that will move on. I realize that I take that all for granted each day. There is usually nothing out of the ordinary that causes me question the validity of my faith, but also give me the want and desire to fight all the more for the right to it.
This email makes me do that. It makes me hold my faith all the more close and gives me the desire to learn much more than hearsay so I can defend it and know that I am leading my children on the right path. I am not going to pray for the conversion of the person who sent me the email, because that may not be the path that their soul is on...and whether they like it or not, God ultimately does control that and has a plan for them. He has a plan for us all, even when our free-will chooses a path He may not like, He still has a plan for that path's end. It is the ultimate lesson of full surrender that we choose to walk. I am going to say a prayer of thanksgiving that technology has allowed this person to email me and to express their thoughts. Without this note this morning, my day would have not put me in uncomfortable situation to think about my faith. I would have "blindly" walked today and not thought about how I can fight for it, not through a war, but through my actions and the wisdom I get from prayer. Today an Atheist made me all the more thankful in my relationship with God, Christ and my children. Today, this letter, allowed God to show his presence to me in a way that I can confirm He does exist. I will pray that same grace on this letter writer and hope that he writes again to challenge me to stand on a higher level and respond as Christ would.
(Note: This Confession will be a two part one, as tomorrow I will answer the email's question as to how I can defend Catholicism.)
While I will not share all of the details or post the email for people to read, I will share some of the questions that were in it, some were honest and others were just irrationally mean. The first sentence began with..."I am sorry for your children, that their mother has been blinded by a faith which there is no God for and a religion that promotes sexual abuse and hides it."
Go ahead, reread that, I sure as heck had to...how does someone compassionately respond to such an accusation as if I promoted all of the bad things within my faith and let my children be hurt by them. The next one said, "If there really is a God, then why doesn't he show who he is and why doesn't he heal the world of all the bad things that happen...I am sorry for your ignorance and sheepish following, but most of all I am sorry for your children whom you are teaching to be bigots."
Yeah, that paragraph is wonderfully perplexing...go ahead and reread it again!! Seriously, had this been last year, I would have slammed this email back with angry words, a how dare you attitude and a "God" will show you in the end kind of come back. I would have fumed on it all day and called my friends in disgust as if I was the victim of a horrific attack on my personal character. I would probably have been most hurt by the accusation that I am not a good example for my children and I am leading them on a path full of lies and deceit. I would have called a "girls night" happy hour in which I could console my wounded heart with some good, like-minded friends and an Amaretto sour...probably two, throwing in a few carbohydrate filling comfort foods to make it all better. I would show them...as I carried it angrily away from my heart for such ignorant words!
Not today...although a Girl's Night is much deserved and needed to maintain sanity every few weeks! I sat for a moment and prayed. I prayed for the wisdom to even answer such an email and I prayed for my heart to not take it personally. Most of all, I prayed for this "devout Atheist" as they put it, I prayed for their heart to be softened and see what joy that I have found in my own. In the midst of my prayer, it made me realize a couple of things. (1.) When you write publicly, you are bound to find people who do not agree with you and (2.) I thanked God for this Atheist email, it caused me to take a moment to be closer to Him and find the answers inside of my heart. See, I can handle not being agreed with, or else I would have had robots and dogs to raise, not children. But questioning me on the life experiences that has lead to my faith, that is something that is harder to release from my heart.
You see each day, I wake up and go on in my life, I am prayerful, I am kind and I try to be an example for my children...even when I want to sell them to a South American prison because I am convinced they are possessed! (Moms, you know the days I am talking about, no one wants to admit it for fear that Social Services will be calling and your perfect June Clever image is outed for Mommy Dearest; those days when you just need a "mommy time out".) Even then, on the hardest of days, I may ask God, "why this is happening?", but I never say God, "I do not believe you are there." I can't imagine ever living in a world without hope or the knowledge that this is all for not. Scientifically, I know my body will go back into the ground and the super-computer which is my brain will cease to work...but not my soul...the one connection I have to a higher existence, that will move on. I realize that I take that all for granted each day. There is usually nothing out of the ordinary that causes me question the validity of my faith, but also give me the want and desire to fight all the more for the right to it.
This email makes me do that. It makes me hold my faith all the more close and gives me the desire to learn much more than hearsay so I can defend it and know that I am leading my children on the right path. I am not going to pray for the conversion of the person who sent me the email, because that may not be the path that their soul is on...and whether they like it or not, God ultimately does control that and has a plan for them. He has a plan for us all, even when our free-will chooses a path He may not like, He still has a plan for that path's end. It is the ultimate lesson of full surrender that we choose to walk. I am going to say a prayer of thanksgiving that technology has allowed this person to email me and to express their thoughts. Without this note this morning, my day would have not put me in uncomfortable situation to think about my faith. I would have "blindly" walked today and not thought about how I can fight for it, not through a war, but through my actions and the wisdom I get from prayer. Today an Atheist made me all the more thankful in my relationship with God, Christ and my children. Today, this letter, allowed God to show his presence to me in a way that I can confirm He does exist. I will pray that same grace on this letter writer and hope that he writes again to challenge me to stand on a higher level and respond as Christ would.
(Note: This Confession will be a two part one, as tomorrow I will answer the email's question as to how I can defend Catholicism.)
Monday, May 16, 2011
How Do You Forgive Someone Who Has Been Forgiven?
It has taken me a couple to days to follow up on Friday's post. I didn't expect to receive the emails and notes of support from so many people. I guess there are more than I though who follow this blog! Thank you to everyone, I am glad my words and experiences can resonate and in some cases help heal you too.
I have to confess that I do not just sit down and write blindly, I always pray and ask for intercession, sometimes depending on the topic, I pray to a particular person or saint. Last Friday, it was the Blessed Mother who helped me. I will pray for wisdom and guidance and it is like words fill my head and heart, some that are from me, but mostly from a divine intervention. I think I am fairly scholarly, but even I know the limits of my ego and the capacity of my thoughts when I do not ask for help. I have always been this way, growing up, I thought I was schizophrenic and the voices in my head were from other egos...that is a whole other Oprah, one I am sure will make good material for when the time is right!! Seriously though, I did think I was a little off, I never attributed the wisdom and power in my soul to anything supernatural. Could you imagine in junior high if I had walked around and said, "I sometimes think on my own, but when I am not sure, I ask God to talk for me." Those awkward teenage years were tough enough, without being coined, "God Girl" or something like that. Besides, I was not at the time, open enough in my heart to understand that sometimes that was the case. I know we all have had those moments in life when we ask for advice beyond our knowledge and get an answer we know was not previously in our thoughts. That is divine intervention, I just wish it didn't take me over 30 years to accept that and let it guide me in life...again, other Oprah moments that I will share later!
Not only am I going to confess today that I didn't even go a week with daily blogs as promised, (Wednesday was not my fault, I cannot magically power the internet to make it work!) I am also going to confess that I was wrong in my article on Forgiveness.
Ok, Jesus, I can feel you looking over my shoulder in this one...yet, you already know what I am going to say. I need to clarify this, I was not wrong to just forgive my abuser in life, but I was wrong to go so may years and not tell my mother that she was forgiven as well. I guess, I had never really thought about it and it didn't matter, because I never blamed her, but all these years she has wondered if I had. I was at work on Saturday night and read her email, in response to my last blog. Yes, my mom and father (the man who adopted me when I was a teenager) subscribe to my blogs, like faithful parents.
Her words hit me to my core and I was not sure how to respond. Her short question was something that shook my faith completely. Not only within me, but in my relationship with her and God.
"Your blog on forgiveness has struck me very hard. I have always pondered but was afraid to ask..........can you ever forgive me?"
How could she even ask that? Why is it that after almost 20 years, of my confession to her, had we never talked about that? More importantly, how was it that I was so blind, that I never knew she has carried this in her heart. I knew there would always be some sort of guilt, for not knowing or finding out sooner, but forgiveness? I know as a teenager, in my anger at times, I would say hurtful things, but I don't think I ever once blamed her for what someone else did. Yet, I never told her. I never confessed that to her and here we were. The wave of guilt came over me as well. I am her only daughter and I have so many times brought single-handedly, the most joy and pain into her heart. How could I do that? Why would God have ever let me do that to her?
I wanted to call her and let her know that she was wrong, but I was at work and would be for the night. The nice thing about working alone on a Saturday night is that there is a lot of quiet time to pray and think. Well, not exactly quiet as it is a dog kennel, but at least I am not trying to decipher all of their barking...it is a good job for a mom with 4 children...you learn to multi-task and tune out every noise that is not blood curdling!! So there I sat, I reached into my soul to find the answer, but it was so sorrowful that it was blank. I was not feeling guilty about ever telling her, but I was feeling remorse for all the pain it has caused since. Does that make sense? There is a lot of good and bad pain that gets released once you share your secrets with people. Overall, there is nothing that trumps the healing you feel once it is out and you can process it all.
I just sat and prayed to the only one I knew had been in these shoes. The Blessed Mother. I asked her for forgiveness that I had not been open with my mother or had ever told her that she was never at fault. I just assumed she knew. I asked for forgiveness in all of my assumptions and all of the people that were hurt by me telling about the abuse. Not because it was my fault, but again, because I never communicated or listened to them enough to make sure they were OK. Sometimes when you are in the midst of something, it is hard to see that there are other people who are suffering as well. I prayed that their hearts be filled with light and graced with the sanctity of knowing that they are loved just as much as I am. (It has taken me a very long time to accept that I am and was loved by God, probably longer than it did to accept that everyone was. I just had never loved myself enough to add it to the equation of his children. I guess in many senses, I thought I was the exception to the rule of His love).
I remembered a few years back when my oldest son, Andrew was about 2 and a half. I was pregnant with his sister and in a moment of pity, wondering where if this was all there was and if this is what God wanted for me. I was very hormonal and very afraid, I was afraid that I would never do the things I wanted in life. Looking back it was selfish torment, but it was real during the first few years of motherhood. Andrew came out of his room and said, "You know what mommy? I got to choose you!" He gave me a hug and went back to playing like nothing had happened. In reality, my world had shifted and although, I didn't understand what he meant, it made me stop my tears and ask God what it meant. Typical to God fashion, I didn't get an email response, letter in the mail or a phone call, it came a few years later when I least expected it. Even though it was not expected, it was in God's time, He gave me the information when I was ready and could understand it in my soul. That image in time came flooding into my head as I sat there trying to write to my mom.
In that moment, I was filled with hope and my heart just lifted inside of my chest. I began to type back to my mom. It was a divine moment when my fingers were typing the message that the Queen of Peace was dictating. I started by saying, how sorry I was that she has carried that and felt she ever needed to ask that. I wrote, "You are a gift to me and I got to choose you as my mom. Remember, my soul chose to come into this life knowing what was going to happen. You are holding a false sense of guilt that you could have stopped it. You were not supposed to, as hard as that is, you were not supposed to. You have been my rock and you have guided me through so much and I could not ever have imagined I would have done without you." The message from my son a few years ago came into play for her.
I continued to tell her to not ever think she was to blame, this was all part of God's plan and the best thing is that we can be a light for other human beings. I began to see the images of Christ on the day he died. I am not sure if I was being shown it or if my own conscious had brought it up from what it has always imagined happened that day.
"When Christ was dying on the cross, at one point, God had to turn away. Not because he did not love him, but because he loved him so much that it hurt. He knew that it was the only way for mankind to really know his love. Just like Mary said she would be his mother, long before she knew or anyone knew what it would mean. You have always been my Mary, you have had to do the same thing...our past was the only way to the amazing things we will do in this future."
As I was finishing my email to her it was so clear why I needed the Blessed Mother in this time, my mom had walked in similar shoes, although her daughter lived, her soul accepted that she would be my mother long before she had knowledge of what would happen in our lives. I am that kind of mother too, as well as anyone who loves a child. It was not about us understanding the story of Mary, it truly is about us accepting that we are like her and we do have the strength to endure what she did. Many of us have to carry different crosses in our lives. I am blessed that I get to write about it with the hopes that it makes a difference for someone else. In this case, my mother is my Mary, the giver of my life.
Please think about this if you are in similar shoes. It may be years before you can forgive someone who hurts you, and that is ok, just pray on it and ask God to show you how to. But, don't wait years to confess to those who have suffered with you, that their guilt is something they need to forgive themselves of, even it you didn't ever blame them. Because as always, our Father already has...
I have to confess that I do not just sit down and write blindly, I always pray and ask for intercession, sometimes depending on the topic, I pray to a particular person or saint. Last Friday, it was the Blessed Mother who helped me. I will pray for wisdom and guidance and it is like words fill my head and heart, some that are from me, but mostly from a divine intervention. I think I am fairly scholarly, but even I know the limits of my ego and the capacity of my thoughts when I do not ask for help. I have always been this way, growing up, I thought I was schizophrenic and the voices in my head were from other egos...that is a whole other Oprah, one I am sure will make good material for when the time is right!! Seriously though, I did think I was a little off, I never attributed the wisdom and power in my soul to anything supernatural. Could you imagine in junior high if I had walked around and said, "I sometimes think on my own, but when I am not sure, I ask God to talk for me." Those awkward teenage years were tough enough, without being coined, "God Girl" or something like that. Besides, I was not at the time, open enough in my heart to understand that sometimes that was the case. I know we all have had those moments in life when we ask for advice beyond our knowledge and get an answer we know was not previously in our thoughts. That is divine intervention, I just wish it didn't take me over 30 years to accept that and let it guide me in life...again, other Oprah moments that I will share later!
Not only am I going to confess today that I didn't even go a week with daily blogs as promised, (Wednesday was not my fault, I cannot magically power the internet to make it work!) I am also going to confess that I was wrong in my article on Forgiveness.
Ok, Jesus, I can feel you looking over my shoulder in this one...yet, you already know what I am going to say. I need to clarify this, I was not wrong to just forgive my abuser in life, but I was wrong to go so may years and not tell my mother that she was forgiven as well. I guess, I had never really thought about it and it didn't matter, because I never blamed her, but all these years she has wondered if I had. I was at work on Saturday night and read her email, in response to my last blog. Yes, my mom and father (the man who adopted me when I was a teenager) subscribe to my blogs, like faithful parents.
Her words hit me to my core and I was not sure how to respond. Her short question was something that shook my faith completely. Not only within me, but in my relationship with her and God.
"Your blog on forgiveness has struck me very hard. I have always pondered but was afraid to ask..........can you ever forgive me?"
How could she even ask that? Why is it that after almost 20 years, of my confession to her, had we never talked about that? More importantly, how was it that I was so blind, that I never knew she has carried this in her heart. I knew there would always be some sort of guilt, for not knowing or finding out sooner, but forgiveness? I know as a teenager, in my anger at times, I would say hurtful things, but I don't think I ever once blamed her for what someone else did. Yet, I never told her. I never confessed that to her and here we were. The wave of guilt came over me as well. I am her only daughter and I have so many times brought single-handedly, the most joy and pain into her heart. How could I do that? Why would God have ever let me do that to her?
I wanted to call her and let her know that she was wrong, but I was at work and would be for the night. The nice thing about working alone on a Saturday night is that there is a lot of quiet time to pray and think. Well, not exactly quiet as it is a dog kennel, but at least I am not trying to decipher all of their barking...it is a good job for a mom with 4 children...you learn to multi-task and tune out every noise that is not blood curdling!! So there I sat, I reached into my soul to find the answer, but it was so sorrowful that it was blank. I was not feeling guilty about ever telling her, but I was feeling remorse for all the pain it has caused since. Does that make sense? There is a lot of good and bad pain that gets released once you share your secrets with people. Overall, there is nothing that trumps the healing you feel once it is out and you can process it all.
I just sat and prayed to the only one I knew had been in these shoes. The Blessed Mother. I asked her for forgiveness that I had not been open with my mother or had ever told her that she was never at fault. I just assumed she knew. I asked for forgiveness in all of my assumptions and all of the people that were hurt by me telling about the abuse. Not because it was my fault, but again, because I never communicated or listened to them enough to make sure they were OK. Sometimes when you are in the midst of something, it is hard to see that there are other people who are suffering as well. I prayed that their hearts be filled with light and graced with the sanctity of knowing that they are loved just as much as I am. (It has taken me a very long time to accept that I am and was loved by God, probably longer than it did to accept that everyone was. I just had never loved myself enough to add it to the equation of his children. I guess in many senses, I thought I was the exception to the rule of His love).
I remembered a few years back when my oldest son, Andrew was about 2 and a half. I was pregnant with his sister and in a moment of pity, wondering where if this was all there was and if this is what God wanted for me. I was very hormonal and very afraid, I was afraid that I would never do the things I wanted in life. Looking back it was selfish torment, but it was real during the first few years of motherhood. Andrew came out of his room and said, "You know what mommy? I got to choose you!" He gave me a hug and went back to playing like nothing had happened. In reality, my world had shifted and although, I didn't understand what he meant, it made me stop my tears and ask God what it meant. Typical to God fashion, I didn't get an email response, letter in the mail or a phone call, it came a few years later when I least expected it. Even though it was not expected, it was in God's time, He gave me the information when I was ready and could understand it in my soul. That image in time came flooding into my head as I sat there trying to write to my mom.
In that moment, I was filled with hope and my heart just lifted inside of my chest. I began to type back to my mom. It was a divine moment when my fingers were typing the message that the Queen of Peace was dictating. I started by saying, how sorry I was that she has carried that and felt she ever needed to ask that. I wrote, "You are a gift to me and I got to choose you as my mom. Remember, my soul chose to come into this life knowing what was going to happen. You are holding a false sense of guilt that you could have stopped it. You were not supposed to, as hard as that is, you were not supposed to. You have been my rock and you have guided me through so much and I could not ever have imagined I would have done without you." The message from my son a few years ago came into play for her.
I continued to tell her to not ever think she was to blame, this was all part of God's plan and the best thing is that we can be a light for other human beings. I began to see the images of Christ on the day he died. I am not sure if I was being shown it or if my own conscious had brought it up from what it has always imagined happened that day.
"When Christ was dying on the cross, at one point, God had to turn away. Not because he did not love him, but because he loved him so much that it hurt. He knew that it was the only way for mankind to really know his love. Just like Mary said she would be his mother, long before she knew or anyone knew what it would mean. You have always been my Mary, you have had to do the same thing...our past was the only way to the amazing things we will do in this future."
As I was finishing my email to her it was so clear why I needed the Blessed Mother in this time, my mom had walked in similar shoes, although her daughter lived, her soul accepted that she would be my mother long before she had knowledge of what would happen in our lives. I am that kind of mother too, as well as anyone who loves a child. It was not about us understanding the story of Mary, it truly is about us accepting that we are like her and we do have the strength to endure what she did. Many of us have to carry different crosses in our lives. I am blessed that I get to write about it with the hopes that it makes a difference for someone else. In this case, my mother is my Mary, the giver of my life.
Please think about this if you are in similar shoes. It may be years before you can forgive someone who hurts you, and that is ok, just pray on it and ask God to show you how to. But, don't wait years to confess to those who have suffered with you, that their guilt is something they need to forgive themselves of, even it you didn't ever blame them. Because as always, our Father already has...
Friday, May 13, 2011
Mothering Like Mary
Ninety four years ago today a miracle occurred. The same miracle has occurred around the world in different fashions, but this one is known around the world, especially among devout Catholics. It was May 13, 1917 in Fatima, Portugal. This is where the Blessed Virgin Mary was given the name Our Lady of Fatima. She first appeared to three children, Lucia Santos and her cousins, siblings Jacinta and Francisco Marto. The children also called her the "Lady of the Rosary" because she had related that in an apparition to them. The Blessed Mother appeared at Fatima for six consecutive months to the children always on the 13th day. The most important outcome of the apparitions, Lucia said, is that the lady had asked them to pray the rosary every day, as repeating it many times would be the key to personal and world peace.
Among the amazing miracle at Fatima, one which has been confirmed by the Church, are the many other miracles that have occurred on this day. One in particular happened exactly 30 years ago today, the first attempted assassination of Pope John Paul II in St. Peter's Square at Vatican City. The Pope was shot and critically wounded by Mehmet Ali Ağca , a trained sniper from Turkey, while he was entering the square. The Pope was struck 4 times, and suffered severe blood loss. Ağca was apprehended immediately, and later sentenced to life in prison by an Italian court. The Pope later forgave Ağca for the assassination attempt. He also attributed his survival to divine intercession by the Blessed Mother. In 1982, just a year after he recovered, he made the trip to Fatima and placed a bullet, from his body on the shrine of the Blessed Mother.
I was in Mass this morning for the May Crowning and listened in awe to both of these stories. I have heard them both separately, but never knew that Pope John Paul II actually took the bullet that almost cost him is life to Fatima. It made me wonder if I could do that. I often find myself thinking of random scenarios in which I place myself in "what would you do mode." I would like to think that I would be as brave as John Paul II or as forgiving as the Blessed Mother, but would I really? A few weeks ago, I articled what this Easter meant to me, particularly after meeting my abusive biological father after so many years. I truly was able to tell him I forgave him and there is not a moment I would take back from that encounter. I also know that I was able to set a boundary with my abuser that I had never previously done, with anyone. So I guess you could say that I did act in the same light as John Paul II when it came to my past.
Today was different, as I sat in mass for the May Crowning, I gazed upon my daughter in her white dress and veil. She took her First Holy Communion last Sunday and today got to wear her dress again as she carried up the banner for the May Crowning. A question arose in my head...Could I be as forgiving if it was her that was violated? Any of my children for that matter, could I forgive the person who hurt them like I had been hurt? My gut reaction is no and my emotional state would want retribution. If someone hurt my child in a way that would destroy the very fiber of who they were, I would want the person to suffer and I certainly would want God to be the almighty judge in the end. Be honest, who wouldn't?
Who would be willing to let their child be hurt or killed by someone that they could not control? Who would want to bring a child into this world knowing that they would possibly suffer beyond any sort of comprehension? It reminded me of the day I saw my father in October, although I have forgiven him, I didn't invite him back into my or my children's lives. I am not so forgiving that I would place trust in him again so that he could possibly hurt one of them. There is a difference in forgiving, but not forgetting. I can learn to heal and let go of the anger I felt for him in order to move into a stronger light, but I will never, ever give him or anyone the opportunity to take anything away from my children or any other child for that matter.
I had so many things racing in my head and so many scenarios about what I would do. Then my eyes met the innocent and pure face of my daughter. He hands set in prayer, kneeling with her gaze on the Blessed Mother. My gaze shifted upwards too. All of the scenarios I was imagining and all of the "what if's" that were being created, were not just fantasy ideas, they were very real. There was one woman in that room who knew the answers to all of my thoughts...that was Mary. She had lived and suffered through more than most human beings could ever imagine. She did bring a child into this world knowing he would suffer and die. Maybe she didn't know the exact details or maybe she did, but she willingly and faithfully trusted enough in God that all would be right. Her blind faith bore us Christ; her love for Him and God made way for the forgiveness for all of us. She is the mother I would love to be. She was very human, yet she surrendered all of her fears and faults to something she could not always see. She did not have tangible proof everyday that what she was embarking on was going to change the world, she just trusted in her heart...a heart with a direct link to Him.
As a mother, it is so hard to do that, to have blind faith and surrender the control...especially when it comes to your children. How do you let your heart be filled with solace, when you cannot see what may happen to them or know you cannot protect them from every bad thing in the world?
I honestly don't know if I can do that. I would love to have an ounce of the trust and faith that Mary had and know it all will be ok, but my mind and human fallacies sometimes cloud my heart. I have never prayed the Rosary on a regular basis, in fact I am not sure I know how to without a "Dummies Guide to Catholicism" next to me, but I am going to give it a try. Out of all of her apparitions, there is one single request of her, to pray the Rosary.
Forgiveness is easy to understand when you look at it through God's eyes. We are all his children. If someone were to ask me to choose between my four children who would go to Heaven when they died and who would spend eternity in hell, would I be able to do it? I would reply that there are some days when that would be a an unfair question...depending on the behavior of my children!! But ultimately, the answer is no. I would commit myself to an eternity of hell to see my four children sit next to the thrown of God, because no matter how bad the deed or idea that they may have, I still love them, they are my children. There is nothing humanly possible they could do to change that. I may not like every choice they will make as they grow up, but I will always, without a doubt love them.
Why would I ask any less of God then? Why would I ask Him to choose which of his earthly children should suffer for eternity? If the Blessed Mother could forgive all of us, come back and tell us how to be more like her son, then I certainly can forgive anyone who may have offended me in this life. My confession today is for the Blessed Mother. Without her, I would not be the mother I am today and without her intercession, I will not be the divine light I am called to be. I am asking you to walk beside me and teach me how to be more like you. I have not fully surrendered myself to our Father and I want to learn how to. Most of all, I do not want to live a life of fear for my children anymore. I will trust that the will of God is the best thing for us and I will no longer think about revenge or an "eye for an eye". She has taught me a lesson today, if I cannot find peace in myself, I cannot even begin to teach my children how to be peacemakers or ask for it worldwide.
(More information on Fatima or John Paul II can be found at http://www.catholicnewsagency.com)
Among the amazing miracle at Fatima, one which has been confirmed by the Church, are the many other miracles that have occurred on this day. One in particular happened exactly 30 years ago today, the first attempted assassination of Pope John Paul II in St. Peter's Square at Vatican City. The Pope was shot and critically wounded by Mehmet Ali Ağca , a trained sniper from Turkey, while he was entering the square. The Pope was struck 4 times, and suffered severe blood loss. Ağca was apprehended immediately, and later sentenced to life in prison by an Italian court. The Pope later forgave Ağca for the assassination attempt. He also attributed his survival to divine intercession by the Blessed Mother. In 1982, just a year after he recovered, he made the trip to Fatima and placed a bullet, from his body on the shrine of the Blessed Mother.
I was in Mass this morning for the May Crowning and listened in awe to both of these stories. I have heard them both separately, but never knew that Pope John Paul II actually took the bullet that almost cost him is life to Fatima. It made me wonder if I could do that. I often find myself thinking of random scenarios in which I place myself in "what would you do mode." I would like to think that I would be as brave as John Paul II or as forgiving as the Blessed Mother, but would I really? A few weeks ago, I articled what this Easter meant to me, particularly after meeting my abusive biological father after so many years. I truly was able to tell him I forgave him and there is not a moment I would take back from that encounter. I also know that I was able to set a boundary with my abuser that I had never previously done, with anyone. So I guess you could say that I did act in the same light as John Paul II when it came to my past.
Today was different, as I sat in mass for the May Crowning, I gazed upon my daughter in her white dress and veil. She took her First Holy Communion last Sunday and today got to wear her dress again as she carried up the banner for the May Crowning. A question arose in my head...Could I be as forgiving if it was her that was violated? Any of my children for that matter, could I forgive the person who hurt them like I had been hurt? My gut reaction is no and my emotional state would want retribution. If someone hurt my child in a way that would destroy the very fiber of who they were, I would want the person to suffer and I certainly would want God to be the almighty judge in the end. Be honest, who wouldn't?
Who would be willing to let their child be hurt or killed by someone that they could not control? Who would want to bring a child into this world knowing that they would possibly suffer beyond any sort of comprehension? It reminded me of the day I saw my father in October, although I have forgiven him, I didn't invite him back into my or my children's lives. I am not so forgiving that I would place trust in him again so that he could possibly hurt one of them. There is a difference in forgiving, but not forgetting. I can learn to heal and let go of the anger I felt for him in order to move into a stronger light, but I will never, ever give him or anyone the opportunity to take anything away from my children or any other child for that matter.
I had so many things racing in my head and so many scenarios about what I would do. Then my eyes met the innocent and pure face of my daughter. He hands set in prayer, kneeling with her gaze on the Blessed Mother. My gaze shifted upwards too. All of the scenarios I was imagining and all of the "what if's" that were being created, were not just fantasy ideas, they were very real. There was one woman in that room who knew the answers to all of my thoughts...that was Mary. She had lived and suffered through more than most human beings could ever imagine. She did bring a child into this world knowing he would suffer and die. Maybe she didn't know the exact details or maybe she did, but she willingly and faithfully trusted enough in God that all would be right. Her blind faith bore us Christ; her love for Him and God made way for the forgiveness for all of us. She is the mother I would love to be. She was very human, yet she surrendered all of her fears and faults to something she could not always see. She did not have tangible proof everyday that what she was embarking on was going to change the world, she just trusted in her heart...a heart with a direct link to Him.
As a mother, it is so hard to do that, to have blind faith and surrender the control...especially when it comes to your children. How do you let your heart be filled with solace, when you cannot see what may happen to them or know you cannot protect them from every bad thing in the world?
I honestly don't know if I can do that. I would love to have an ounce of the trust and faith that Mary had and know it all will be ok, but my mind and human fallacies sometimes cloud my heart. I have never prayed the Rosary on a regular basis, in fact I am not sure I know how to without a "Dummies Guide to Catholicism" next to me, but I am going to give it a try. Out of all of her apparitions, there is one single request of her, to pray the Rosary.
Forgiveness is easy to understand when you look at it through God's eyes. We are all his children. If someone were to ask me to choose between my four children who would go to Heaven when they died and who would spend eternity in hell, would I be able to do it? I would reply that there are some days when that would be a an unfair question...depending on the behavior of my children!! But ultimately, the answer is no. I would commit myself to an eternity of hell to see my four children sit next to the thrown of God, because no matter how bad the deed or idea that they may have, I still love them, they are my children. There is nothing humanly possible they could do to change that. I may not like every choice they will make as they grow up, but I will always, without a doubt love them.
Why would I ask any less of God then? Why would I ask Him to choose which of his earthly children should suffer for eternity? If the Blessed Mother could forgive all of us, come back and tell us how to be more like her son, then I certainly can forgive anyone who may have offended me in this life. My confession today is for the Blessed Mother. Without her, I would not be the mother I am today and without her intercession, I will not be the divine light I am called to be. I am asking you to walk beside me and teach me how to be more like you. I have not fully surrendered myself to our Father and I want to learn how to. Most of all, I do not want to live a life of fear for my children anymore. I will trust that the will of God is the best thing for us and I will no longer think about revenge or an "eye for an eye". She has taught me a lesson today, if I cannot find peace in myself, I cannot even begin to teach my children how to be peacemakers or ask for it worldwide.
(More information on Fatima or John Paul II can be found at http://www.catholicnewsagency.com)
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Supermom Makes Mistakes Too
My confession for today is not really an epiphany or new realization, it happened a couple days ago. My 6 and 10 year old boys have been asking for buzz cuts since warm spring weather hit. Since they are in Catholic school, there is a policy on hair cuts. To be honest, I have never read the hair policy, I think short hair is acceptable, but no shaved heads, Mohawks or anything that may make the Priest notice in Mass. (In case you haven't been there, Nuns do not teach anymore, they actually hire real teachers who like children! No offense to any of the Nuns who did like children; I just don't actually remember meeting them at the Catholic school I attended 27 years ago.) Anyhow, I agreed to let them buzz their hair off since school is almost out in a couple of weeks, I figured they would not kick us out for that violation. We have a set of clippers with a safety device on them, which I have used before and I did not want to pay $17 a head, plus a tip, to do what I can do at home. It is only a buzz cut right??
Wrong. I was so wrong. You are laughing now because you have the foresight to see where this is going, foresight I clearly lacked that morning. I used the clippers, sans the safety, because my ego has made me a pro at this. If any 20 something salon girl with a pink streak in her hair and silver hoop in her nose can do it, I, with a college degree and experience on the dog, certainly could. My first victim was my six year old Aidan who has brown hair. I cut away with the clippers and scissors because it was going to be short anyway. Then came Andrew, my ten year old. He is a toe head blond, so it was not too shabby. When the heavy hair was removed I set to buzzing...first on a 3, then a 2, then when I noticed the bald spots underneath I used a1. It was horrible and my boys just sat there with total faith in me that I would make them look good. If the prize for the day was to make them look like recovering chemo patients that had lice infested heads, I would have won for sure. The sad truth is that I didn't even have a single drink that day, so I can't blame the Mother's Day mimosa at all.
When it was finished up they both looked in the mirror, my husband looked on in horror and my three year old, who wanted to be buzzed like his brothers, politely declined and said he decided he didn't need his cut. I wanted to laugh and cry, as I tried to fix it, I just made it worse. What that thing in me that makes me keep trying until something is fixed? Why can't I learn to just surrender to my weaknesses and let someone else help me with the kids sometimes? I am definitely not talking about Catholic guilt, it is one step greater..."Mom Guilt". You know that deep down feeling that lies within anyone who has the battle wounds and stretch marks of having children? Why can't I just accept that I am not always Supermom and let my kids see my vulnerable areas? Even though, they have seen that side many times, I like to pretend I can control it!
I am reading passages from the Revised Edition of the The New American Bible, (I am not going to lie, I had never fully read the old Edition, so this is a start for me!) and Proverbs11:2 struck my tarnished ego like a ton of bricks. "When pride comes, disgrace comes; but with the humble is wisdom." Ouch...that was a hard pill to swallow! I know it was only hair, but it was definitely another lesson that I should have surrendered to before I unleashed "carnage", as Andrew put it, on the heads of my boys. The hair will grow back and I am sure that will not be the only mistake I make as a mother, but it is one that will remind me to surrender to my limits...and also find other areas in which to cut spending.
With this confession and maybe a little therapy, my boys will learn to forgive me. Just because I have the ability to do something, does not mean I should. Let me rephrase that, it does not give me the right to. I am not equipped with all the superpowers I thought I had and there needs to be a limit to my abilities. I understand that now. God please forgive me and teach my boys to do the same. Thank God it was not my daughter and thank God I didn't resort to shaving cream and a razor to even it all up...never again will I take the 20 something salon girl with a hoop through her nose and pink hair for granted. Her talent in that area is worth much more than my mom degree!
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
My Daughter's Prayers
My almost eight year-old daughter and I have a nightly ritual. Well, I should say it is at least 4 times a week. I would like to commit to it each night, but sometimes life has other ideas. Tonight stuck me in particular and affirmed my commitment that, when I am home, I will continue to preserve this precious time together. She has three brothers, so this bedtime ritual has become sort of sacred and yes, a little female bonding for both of us. I am not saying I love my time with her anymore than my boys, (because she does have her moments when I understand why God gave me only one of her to raise), but this time together is especially meaningful and I hope it continues as she grows older; even when she doesn't "need mom" as much.
We choose a book and read a few chapters in her bed; sometimes it is about fairies, princesses, unicorns or angels. The current book is about Heaven and a little boy's experience with death. I was not sure she would understand a lot of it and I find myself having to explain into seven year old terms some of the words, but overall, she is captivated by a miraculous, unexplained event. It also gives us a chance to talk about God, Christ and Heaven openly. I am finding that I am also surprised by her wisdom and her thoughts, sometimes it makes me realize what I have forgotten from my childhood; that is Jesus does love all children.
Along with the reading, we also take time to say our prayers, usually before we begin, in case she falls asleep. Usually, they consist of daily dilemmas, needs or wants for the next day or year. Sometimes they involve others, but mostly it is a chance for us to say to God what is in our hearts. Tonight was different and it hit me as I was finishing up a chapter. I pray differently than she does. Her prayers are so simple, childlike and without expectation. She never has to think hard about what she wants to say or rehearse in her mind how to talk to Jesus. I always do. It is like I am entering into a contest on the best prayer or most thought out speech to God. Then I sit and wait, sometimes for days or months, to see an example of it happening, saying it doesn't change my faith or give me doubt; but with the expectations I hold, how can it not? Does anyone else do that?
As a mother, I try to teach my kids that being honest is the best thing, especially when communicating with God. He knows if we are being dishonest anyway right? Why is it when I pray I cannot just say what is in my heart? It always has to be rehearsed, like he didn't hear me the first time.
For example, tonight we both stated our prayers and while Alyssa was talking, I was rehearsing my own in my mind. I could still hear her, because that is a miracle of being a woman...
multitasking, even in thought. She simply said, I pray for a rainbow soon and to be helpful. That was it. Normally, I would be irritated by her lack of substance and commitment to our Holy Father. Tonight was different. She was so proud of her prayer and cuddled up ready to hear mine as I begun, "Dear God"...as if He didn't know I was talking to him already. "I thank you for the blessings of today and in my life, but"....that is when it hit me. There is was, "But". Why is it that adults only pray with a but? Like, if you grant me this wish, I will do this for you...
That is not how it works and that is not how God wants it, at least that is what I have told my children many times over, why did I deserve to not be held accountable for that, because I have survived some of the hardships of being an adult? Last night I committed to listen to God more, well, tonight, He was loud and clear. In the slight guilty (for lack of a better word) feeling in my heart as I prayed. I was not being authentic or selfless. My daughter's innocence reminded me of Matthew 10:14, when children were brought to Jesus, the disciples rebuked them, but Jesus said, "Let the children come to me, and do not prevent them; for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." The more simple and pure the prayer, the more God will present His blessings to answer it.
My confession today is that I have not been a very good example in which my children can learn to pray. I no longer will expect them to "grow up" in prayer and rehearse what it is they want to say. I will no longer do that myself. If I cannot state a simple prayer without asking for something in return, then I will not pray for it at all. God knows my needs and desires and He knows how to best enhance my life with them. Only through that can I help enhance the lives of other people. They say that humility comes with having children, I always have tried to outsmart that...sometimes, the most miraculous education comes through the hearts and mouths of the ones whose souls who have not been gone from Heaven as long...as adults, we have let our souls forget as we have been consumed by tangible ideas and human ego.
We choose a book and read a few chapters in her bed; sometimes it is about fairies, princesses, unicorns or angels. The current book is about Heaven and a little boy's experience with death. I was not sure she would understand a lot of it and I find myself having to explain into seven year old terms some of the words, but overall, she is captivated by a miraculous, unexplained event. It also gives us a chance to talk about God, Christ and Heaven openly. I am finding that I am also surprised by her wisdom and her thoughts, sometimes it makes me realize what I have forgotten from my childhood; that is Jesus does love all children.
Along with the reading, we also take time to say our prayers, usually before we begin, in case she falls asleep. Usually, they consist of daily dilemmas, needs or wants for the next day or year. Sometimes they involve others, but mostly it is a chance for us to say to God what is in our hearts. Tonight was different and it hit me as I was finishing up a chapter. I pray differently than she does. Her prayers are so simple, childlike and without expectation. She never has to think hard about what she wants to say or rehearse in her mind how to talk to Jesus. I always do. It is like I am entering into a contest on the best prayer or most thought out speech to God. Then I sit and wait, sometimes for days or months, to see an example of it happening, saying it doesn't change my faith or give me doubt; but with the expectations I hold, how can it not? Does anyone else do that?
As a mother, I try to teach my kids that being honest is the best thing, especially when communicating with God. He knows if we are being dishonest anyway right? Why is it when I pray I cannot just say what is in my heart? It always has to be rehearsed, like he didn't hear me the first time.
For example, tonight we both stated our prayers and while Alyssa was talking, I was rehearsing my own in my mind. I could still hear her, because that is a miracle of being a woman...
multitasking, even in thought. She simply said, I pray for a rainbow soon and to be helpful. That was it. Normally, I would be irritated by her lack of substance and commitment to our Holy Father. Tonight was different. She was so proud of her prayer and cuddled up ready to hear mine as I begun, "Dear God"...as if He didn't know I was talking to him already. "I thank you for the blessings of today and in my life, but"....that is when it hit me. There is was, "But". Why is it that adults only pray with a but? Like, if you grant me this wish, I will do this for you...
That is not how it works and that is not how God wants it, at least that is what I have told my children many times over, why did I deserve to not be held accountable for that, because I have survived some of the hardships of being an adult? Last night I committed to listen to God more, well, tonight, He was loud and clear. In the slight guilty (for lack of a better word) feeling in my heart as I prayed. I was not being authentic or selfless. My daughter's innocence reminded me of Matthew 10:14, when children were brought to Jesus, the disciples rebuked them, but Jesus said, "Let the children come to me, and do not prevent them; for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." The more simple and pure the prayer, the more God will present His blessings to answer it.
My confession today is that I have not been a very good example in which my children can learn to pray. I no longer will expect them to "grow up" in prayer and rehearse what it is they want to say. I will no longer do that myself. If I cannot state a simple prayer without asking for something in return, then I will not pray for it at all. God knows my needs and desires and He knows how to best enhance my life with them. Only through that can I help enhance the lives of other people. They say that humility comes with having children, I always have tried to outsmart that...sometimes, the most miraculous education comes through the hearts and mouths of the ones whose souls who have not been gone from Heaven as long...as adults, we have let our souls forget as we have been consumed by tangible ideas and human ego.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Confession 1 of 365
Here it is the first day and I am already getting a late start. I guess this will be my first and maybe shortest confession. Motherhood is tiring and completely full of unexpected turns!! My sick child and rambunctious year old put a wrench into my perfectly planned day...I did not get half of the things done on my list today. I know I didn't take one single moment to sit back and just say "Thank You" to God for all the blessings and trials in my life...yes, the trials too...for it is within them that we usually get or learn from the greatest of blessings.
So here it is, day one of my year of confessions to God, when I want to complain about the shortcomings and demands in my daily life. I am going to refrain and try to take in a breath to listen, so I can praise God for all He has bestowed upon me. I cannot go out and "Be the change I want to see in the world", as Mother Teresa put it, if I cannot sit back and listen to what He has in store for me. That includes trading in a sore throat for a clean and organized closet...I can see it in the horizon!!
For tonight, I am going to commit to making more time for Him. My mother who is an amazing woman, once said to me, "When you pray to God, He listens to you. But when you meditate, you are listening to God". I am afraid I have not done a very good job at being a student of God in that manner. So that is what I am going to do. No writing about what I have an opinion on or how I have overcome a hardship; but what God may want for me as his child, nothing more or less.
I will not go to sleep in frustration with a head full of an unfinished agenda. Instead, I will close my eyes and listen to what it is He wants me to do for him. Instead of asking or complaining to God about the things I did not finish today, I will simply ask..."How can I better serve you God?" How can I be a better disciple of your Son in my daily life. I will from now on be more conscious of my complaints and not be as hard on myself. For today, even with half of my chores left unfinished, I still was a mother to my children, wife to my husband and compassionate to my friends and pets. There is no such thing as a failed day, just a new beginning in which to walk beside Christ tomorrow. My confession tonight is just to God; showing Him my thankful heart for all that He has given to me...even if it is not in my plans for today...
So here it is, day one of my year of confessions to God, when I want to complain about the shortcomings and demands in my daily life. I am going to refrain and try to take in a breath to listen, so I can praise God for all He has bestowed upon me. I cannot go out and "Be the change I want to see in the world", as Mother Teresa put it, if I cannot sit back and listen to what He has in store for me. That includes trading in a sore throat for a clean and organized closet...I can see it in the horizon!!
For tonight, I am going to commit to making more time for Him. My mother who is an amazing woman, once said to me, "When you pray to God, He listens to you. But when you meditate, you are listening to God". I am afraid I have not done a very good job at being a student of God in that manner. So that is what I am going to do. No writing about what I have an opinion on or how I have overcome a hardship; but what God may want for me as his child, nothing more or less.
I will not go to sleep in frustration with a head full of an unfinished agenda. Instead, I will close my eyes and listen to what it is He wants me to do for him. Instead of asking or complaining to God about the things I did not finish today, I will simply ask..."How can I better serve you God?" How can I be a better disciple of your Son in my daily life. I will from now on be more conscious of my complaints and not be as hard on myself. For today, even with half of my chores left unfinished, I still was a mother to my children, wife to my husband and compassionate to my friends and pets. There is no such thing as a failed day, just a new beginning in which to walk beside Christ tomorrow. My confession tonight is just to God; showing Him my thankful heart for all that He has given to me...even if it is not in my plans for today...
Sunday, May 8, 2011
My First Mother's Day
Since my blog is entitled, Confessions of a Catholic Mother, I felt it was especially poignant to write today on Mother’s Day. Actually, this is my confession that I have not done a great job at keeping up with all the things I want to do in life. Being a wife, mother, friend and writer. It is really hard to do!! I manage to find time to skate by each day on the first three, even when I feel my head in a whirlwind. But the last one, being a writer, which I love to do with passion, is usually placed on a shelf until I can sit down and write my thoughts. Not a day goes by that I do not have an idea, thought or urge to write about something, I just rarely manage the time to put it all together. So here it is…. Just as my blog is titled, I am going to commit for 1 year to write a daily confession. I know, I know…365 (I pray to God next year is not a Leap Year!) About being a mother, wife or just a human being all wrapped into my faith. Most will not be as long as they usually are. But each day, I will write one thing and please hold me to it. Let’s see how this goes.
My First Mother’s Day
Today, is actually my 10th Mother’s Day, a decade of being a mother…whether I was ready or not! They have all been equally special, each year more amazing with the addition of more children, the things they have accomplished and milestones we have hit. I am truly blessed and eternally grateful that God has bestowed his most precious gift upon me. The gift of Life…not just because I was able to create it (let’s be honest they all were not intentional!) But the true gift of understanding the meaning of Life; the meaning of being a mother, I do not think there is a single mother who would disagree that once that happened, your heart was eternally placed on your sleeve.
I can pretty much remember every Mother’s Day, some spent with family, some with my children and a few lucky ones at a spa! Yet, there is one in particular that sticks out as the most memorable Mother’s Day and ironically it was before I had the chance to actually be a “mother”. In 2000, I found myself pregnant with my first child. So I guess, you could say I was a mother, by definition, but not by experience. I was 21 and pregnant by a man whom I had been with for almost four years. He was at that point, the love of my life and although the pregnancy was unintentional, I wanted to make it work. His father was a prominent attorney in Philadelphia and the family on the outside had the appearance of a normal unit. The man I thought I knew and loved had become angry and scared about the pregnancy. He made it clear from the beginning that I was not going to ruin his life with a child and all of a sudden did not know how he felt about me. One night his father called and offered me a lot of money to abort the baby, he said if I loved his son, we would get married and start a family the proper way. When I did not want to do that, his parents encouraged their son to leave and go back to the East Coast. When I decided to have the baby, my boyfriend said that I had proved to him how much I loved him by choosing the baby over him.
He said that I had made the wrong choice and he would spend the rest of his life making sure I suffered the consequences of ruining his. When he did leave, I was scared and alone, but also knew he was full of threats he didn’t have in him to make due on. He was scared as well and had learned that if money didn’t absolve his issues, than running away would. My mother and stepfather were supportive and did not talk me into keeping or aborting the baby. They said they would help me through my choice. I didn’t want to burden them with any decision, but knew they would love me no matter what I chose. I just wanted to know what was wrong and make the right one.
Even my obstetrician and his office consulted and encouraged me to have an abortion, saying that I was so young and would end my life, as I knew it. When I was almost four months along, I felt alone, scared and like a failure. I called my ex-boyfriend to tell him I needed money to have an abortion. He wired it that afternoon. I went into Planned Parenthood two days later. I did not want to abort this baby, that by this time, I had felt moving inside me, but I didn’t know what else to do. My plan was to tell people that I had miscarried due to stress, because in my heart I knew it was not right, even to those who encouraged it. I also could not face my family and this would be the easiest way out of my predicament. I used a fake name, they never asked for ID of any kind, I guess I thought that this way my parents would not find out. As if a list is printed each year of the women who enter the facility. They took me into a cold, sterile room and told me to change into a paper-like gown. A doctor came in and performed an ultra-sound, he never let me see the screen and barely spoke two words to me. I just wanted someone to listen to me, to tell me what I was doing was ok and to make my decision easy. He said they baby looked to not be growing right and might have deformities anyhow so it was good I was there. It was strange news, since I had had a normal ultrasound a month before. I had not once heard that before from my OB and thought maybe he had missed something. He said that he would be brief and I would be able to resume my life as if nothing had happened. He got up and said he would be back. I remember just lying there shivering and broke into a whimpering cry. How did my life that was once so full of promise ever come to this moment? I was not overly religious and usually prayed when I needed something from God. I felt so unworthy of God at that moment, yet, I began to pray. I don’t think I have ever prayed so hard for an answer in all of my life, even through the horrendous things I went through as a child. I just began to pray, I prayed to God, Jesus and the Virgin Mary; I prayed to Mother Teresa and to any other Holy person I could think of. I specifically remember saying, "please Blessed Mother, I cannot do this alone, but do not want to lose this baby.” Yet, I didn’t think I was capable of keeping it.
I don’t think it was more than 30 seconds after that, another man came in. I remember his nametag: Dr. D'Angelo. He was not like the first doctor, he was kind and had a warmth about him. He hugged me and said I would be ok. He did another ultra sound and turned it around so I could see my baby and the beating heart…in that moment, time must have stood still. He said, "You have so much scar tissue, that I am afraid if I abort this baby, you may never have children again.” He said he wanted me to be sure with what I was going to do, he was going to give me a minute to think about it and he left the room. I know in my life that at times I have been dense when it came to getting signs from God, but not this time. I also remembered a vision of a friend who had a baby at a young age. I knew she had struggled and had to grow up with her daughter, but all I could see was her walking hand in hand with her child, her little blond pigtails in little curls. I had not thought about her in a couple years, but that memory came flooding into my mind.
I sat up and dressed just as a couple of nurses came in to start the procedure. They asked what I was doing and told me to get undressed. I said I did not want to go through with it, I wanted to keep my child. There did not seem to be any understanding between them and one seemed angry that I was leaving, I remember her stating clearly that I was making a huge mistake, that I was young and would have more children when I was married. The other one chimed in and said that, it was obvious the father did not love me or want the baby because he was not with me and I would be alone in raising it. I would be a burden to society for making that choice. The other one also said, it was against protocol to let me leave since it was going to start and I had paid. I was holding back the tears of shame, it was worse than being attacked by the Grim Reaper on my way in the building, someone who thought they could scare me into not having an abortion. I had always thought the people at Planned Parenthood would be more supportive of “my choice”, than the religious zealots on the outside that chanted hateful things to me on my way in. I learned that day that people are only supportive of your “choice” if they agree with it, no exceptions.
The first doctor came in and told me that it was too late and he felt it best to abort my child. I said I wanted to speak to Dr. D'Angelo and he said he was the only doctor who had seen me. I insisted on seeing Dr. D'Angelo and he said there was no doctor there by that name. The whole process was only a few minutes, but felt like an eternity. I left crying and scared, but I knew that I was doing what I wanted to do.
A few weeks later, I had my appendix rupture and was in the hospital in and out of consciousness for three days. They thought it was kidney stones and I sat for three days while the poison from a ruptured appendix spilled into my body. They were not sure if I would survive and said the baby would probably die. My mother flew in and came to my bedside. I vaguely remember her praying and saying that God would not let anything bad happen to me. I had surgery to remove the appendix and woke knowing that the child inside me was going to be fine. I remember feeling so many angels around me during that time and knowing that what had happened to that point was not a coincidence. I remember calling his father when I woke up in the hospital from the appendicitis and said that it was a miracle that we were both saved. His response was, "I guess God did not hear me because I prayed the opposite". I knew at that moment that my heart had been falsely filled with love that was never going to be reciprocated. I also came to realize that Dr. D’Angelo was sent as an Angel in the moment when I needed God the most. Five months later, on July 23, 2000, I gave birth to a healthy, beautiful baby boy.
I can't change what kind of father he was, but I have an amazing almost 11 year old boy, who my husband has adopted, that I would not change anything in the world for. I almost didn't give him a chance because I didn’t believe in myself, I trusted in a culture that found it acceptable and even in my own doctor who had no regard for the value of his life. I listened to friends, professors and strangers who all said they didn’t want me to make the biggest mistake of my life ...by being responsible for a life. You see, that is where I think they were all wrong. Two months after the appendicitis, I celebrated Mother’s Day, pregnant, apprehensive and still unsure where my life would end up. I do know one thing though. My son gave me the most amazing lesson of all. Personal responsibility and a love for myself that I previously did not have. I also learned to trust God a little more in his plan. That Mother’s Day, before I fully experienced what being a mother was, I learned the value of my own life and the amazing possibilities of what God had in store for me to come. That is something no one could have ever told me. I had to trust and know it would happen, even when I didn’t see the evidence of it. That is the beauty of being a mother and that is the amazing miracle of trusting in God. I have never fully shared this story with friends, mostly out of fear that they would not believe me. Another thing my children have taught me, you don’t have to have the world believe you, because God is the only one who matters. Speak what is your truth and in your heart because it always has been and always will be between you and Him anyway....
My First Mother’s Day
Today, is actually my 10th Mother’s Day, a decade of being a mother…whether I was ready or not! They have all been equally special, each year more amazing with the addition of more children, the things they have accomplished and milestones we have hit. I am truly blessed and eternally grateful that God has bestowed his most precious gift upon me. The gift of Life…not just because I was able to create it (let’s be honest they all were not intentional!) But the true gift of understanding the meaning of Life; the meaning of being a mother, I do not think there is a single mother who would disagree that once that happened, your heart was eternally placed on your sleeve.
I can pretty much remember every Mother’s Day, some spent with family, some with my children and a few lucky ones at a spa! Yet, there is one in particular that sticks out as the most memorable Mother’s Day and ironically it was before I had the chance to actually be a “mother”. In 2000, I found myself pregnant with my first child. So I guess, you could say I was a mother, by definition, but not by experience. I was 21 and pregnant by a man whom I had been with for almost four years. He was at that point, the love of my life and although the pregnancy was unintentional, I wanted to make it work. His father was a prominent attorney in Philadelphia and the family on the outside had the appearance of a normal unit. The man I thought I knew and loved had become angry and scared about the pregnancy. He made it clear from the beginning that I was not going to ruin his life with a child and all of a sudden did not know how he felt about me. One night his father called and offered me a lot of money to abort the baby, he said if I loved his son, we would get married and start a family the proper way. When I did not want to do that, his parents encouraged their son to leave and go back to the East Coast. When I decided to have the baby, my boyfriend said that I had proved to him how much I loved him by choosing the baby over him.
He said that I had made the wrong choice and he would spend the rest of his life making sure I suffered the consequences of ruining his. When he did leave, I was scared and alone, but also knew he was full of threats he didn’t have in him to make due on. He was scared as well and had learned that if money didn’t absolve his issues, than running away would. My mother and stepfather were supportive and did not talk me into keeping or aborting the baby. They said they would help me through my choice. I didn’t want to burden them with any decision, but knew they would love me no matter what I chose. I just wanted to know what was wrong and make the right one.
Even my obstetrician and his office consulted and encouraged me to have an abortion, saying that I was so young and would end my life, as I knew it. When I was almost four months along, I felt alone, scared and like a failure. I called my ex-boyfriend to tell him I needed money to have an abortion. He wired it that afternoon. I went into Planned Parenthood two days later. I did not want to abort this baby, that by this time, I had felt moving inside me, but I didn’t know what else to do. My plan was to tell people that I had miscarried due to stress, because in my heart I knew it was not right, even to those who encouraged it. I also could not face my family and this would be the easiest way out of my predicament. I used a fake name, they never asked for ID of any kind, I guess I thought that this way my parents would not find out. As if a list is printed each year of the women who enter the facility. They took me into a cold, sterile room and told me to change into a paper-like gown. A doctor came in and performed an ultra-sound, he never let me see the screen and barely spoke two words to me. I just wanted someone to listen to me, to tell me what I was doing was ok and to make my decision easy. He said they baby looked to not be growing right and might have deformities anyhow so it was good I was there. It was strange news, since I had had a normal ultrasound a month before. I had not once heard that before from my OB and thought maybe he had missed something. He said that he would be brief and I would be able to resume my life as if nothing had happened. He got up and said he would be back. I remember just lying there shivering and broke into a whimpering cry. How did my life that was once so full of promise ever come to this moment? I was not overly religious and usually prayed when I needed something from God. I felt so unworthy of God at that moment, yet, I began to pray. I don’t think I have ever prayed so hard for an answer in all of my life, even through the horrendous things I went through as a child. I just began to pray, I prayed to God, Jesus and the Virgin Mary; I prayed to Mother Teresa and to any other Holy person I could think of. I specifically remember saying, "please Blessed Mother, I cannot do this alone, but do not want to lose this baby.” Yet, I didn’t think I was capable of keeping it.
I don’t think it was more than 30 seconds after that, another man came in. I remember his nametag: Dr. D'Angelo. He was not like the first doctor, he was kind and had a warmth about him. He hugged me and said I would be ok. He did another ultra sound and turned it around so I could see my baby and the beating heart…in that moment, time must have stood still. He said, "You have so much scar tissue, that I am afraid if I abort this baby, you may never have children again.” He said he wanted me to be sure with what I was going to do, he was going to give me a minute to think about it and he left the room. I know in my life that at times I have been dense when it came to getting signs from God, but not this time. I also remembered a vision of a friend who had a baby at a young age. I knew she had struggled and had to grow up with her daughter, but all I could see was her walking hand in hand with her child, her little blond pigtails in little curls. I had not thought about her in a couple years, but that memory came flooding into my mind.
I sat up and dressed just as a couple of nurses came in to start the procedure. They asked what I was doing and told me to get undressed. I said I did not want to go through with it, I wanted to keep my child. There did not seem to be any understanding between them and one seemed angry that I was leaving, I remember her stating clearly that I was making a huge mistake, that I was young and would have more children when I was married. The other one chimed in and said that, it was obvious the father did not love me or want the baby because he was not with me and I would be alone in raising it. I would be a burden to society for making that choice. The other one also said, it was against protocol to let me leave since it was going to start and I had paid. I was holding back the tears of shame, it was worse than being attacked by the Grim Reaper on my way in the building, someone who thought they could scare me into not having an abortion. I had always thought the people at Planned Parenthood would be more supportive of “my choice”, than the religious zealots on the outside that chanted hateful things to me on my way in. I learned that day that people are only supportive of your “choice” if they agree with it, no exceptions.
The first doctor came in and told me that it was too late and he felt it best to abort my child. I said I wanted to speak to Dr. D'Angelo and he said he was the only doctor who had seen me. I insisted on seeing Dr. D'Angelo and he said there was no doctor there by that name. The whole process was only a few minutes, but felt like an eternity. I left crying and scared, but I knew that I was doing what I wanted to do.
A few weeks later, I had my appendix rupture and was in the hospital in and out of consciousness for three days. They thought it was kidney stones and I sat for three days while the poison from a ruptured appendix spilled into my body. They were not sure if I would survive and said the baby would probably die. My mother flew in and came to my bedside. I vaguely remember her praying and saying that God would not let anything bad happen to me. I had surgery to remove the appendix and woke knowing that the child inside me was going to be fine. I remember feeling so many angels around me during that time and knowing that what had happened to that point was not a coincidence. I remember calling his father when I woke up in the hospital from the appendicitis and said that it was a miracle that we were both saved. His response was, "I guess God did not hear me because I prayed the opposite". I knew at that moment that my heart had been falsely filled with love that was never going to be reciprocated. I also came to realize that Dr. D’Angelo was sent as an Angel in the moment when I needed God the most. Five months later, on July 23, 2000, I gave birth to a healthy, beautiful baby boy.
I can't change what kind of father he was, but I have an amazing almost 11 year old boy, who my husband has adopted, that I would not change anything in the world for. I almost didn't give him a chance because I didn’t believe in myself, I trusted in a culture that found it acceptable and even in my own doctor who had no regard for the value of his life. I listened to friends, professors and strangers who all said they didn’t want me to make the biggest mistake of my life ...by being responsible for a life. You see, that is where I think they were all wrong. Two months after the appendicitis, I celebrated Mother’s Day, pregnant, apprehensive and still unsure where my life would end up. I do know one thing though. My son gave me the most amazing lesson of all. Personal responsibility and a love for myself that I previously did not have. I also learned to trust God a little more in his plan. That Mother’s Day, before I fully experienced what being a mother was, I learned the value of my own life and the amazing possibilities of what God had in store for me to come. That is something no one could have ever told me. I had to trust and know it would happen, even when I didn’t see the evidence of it. That is the beauty of being a mother and that is the amazing miracle of trusting in God. I have never fully shared this story with friends, mostly out of fear that they would not believe me. Another thing my children have taught me, you don’t have to have the world believe you, because God is the only one who matters. Speak what is your truth and in your heart because it always has been and always will be between you and Him anyway....
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)