The Essence of Faith

This is what we are called for:

"Sanctify Christ as Lord in your hearts.Always be ready to give an explanation to anyone who asks you for a reason for your hope,but do it with gentleness and reverence,keeping your conscience clear"

This is from 1 Peter, Chapter 3, Verses 15-16 and really spoke to me today. What is the reason for our hope? The cross.

A shot inside my father-in-law's barn

I am not trying to proselytize, but I hope this story touches hearts. As most of you know, we lost my father-in-law this last Sunday. We said our last goodbyes to his earthly self on Wednesday. Grief is overwhelming and yes, religion, and my belief in Christ, is certainly a great and powerful tool to cope with this loss. However, it is more than that. Rick was able to bring some tools home with him that had belonged to his father. One of these things was a scroll saw. Last night I volunteered at our church's annual Summerfest and walked by a room a man and woman were working in. I entered and asked them what this room was for and the woman replied that it was for the book sale, but they were wrapping things up. She pointed to a pile of boxes and said that everything was now free and I was welcome to look through the boxes and pick out what I wanted. The very first thing I saw, laying on top of a stack of boxes, was a book entitled 300 Christian & Inspirational Patterns for Scroll Saw woodworking. Now, some of you may poo-poo this as just wishful thinking or dumb luck, but I just can't believe there would be that many books related to this subject matter at a church bazaar. To me, this was a sign from Ernie, letting us know that he was alright and our faith was real. It was done in his own Ernie way, unobtrusive and poignantly specific. I immediately grabbed it up and brought it home for Rick. I hope that each of you today will be attentive and look for these signs. I wasn't even asking for anything and it was still given to me.

Mark 13: 32-33 "But of that day or hour, no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.
Be watchful! Be alert! You do not know when the time will come."

Measure of a Man

Lying beside my husband, I traced his brow bone with my index finger and played with the three little white beard hairs that all grew beside one another on his chin.  His handsome face was relaxed and he was sleeping soundly, heart beating steadily.  No worry lines showed and his beautiful brown eyes were now closed to the haunting grief that had flooded him last night.

We had just gotten home from dropping my stepdaughter off at her mother's house, about 30 miles away.  We dropped her off on our way home from Kansas City, where we attended a friend's baptism for her infant daughter and her spouse.  Rick went inside with my stepson and I stayed outside chatting with the neighbor.  Pretty soon, Rick came outside, talking on the phone and furiously waved at me to come back over.  My heart sunk, as my sandals furiously weaved through the neighbor's hostas and I was haphazardly babbling, "Sorry, sorry, sorry" for trampling through their landscaping. 

I knew the instant he waved that it was his Dad.  As we were driving home that evening, we were just outside of the town where my stepdaughter lived with her mother, and I had this feeling of dread.  I thought then that Ernie was going to die very soon and how would Rick and the kids react.  I shook it off as just my anxiety playing mind games.  Less than an hour later, we received the news.

Grief poured out of my husband's eyes and sobs wracked his wide shoulders, as he tried to process the information.  The anguish was elemental and, like water, ebbed and flowed through him.  At times he would sit and contemplate, quietly reflecting on his father.  The next minute he would rasp, "I miss him so much" and the tears would frantically chase each other down his cheeks to crash at his feet. 

Rick expressed regret over the times in his life that he didn't appreciate his father as much as he could have.  He bemoaned the fact that he couldn't make it all up to him the way he felt he should have.  Rick was eternally grateful that we were all able to see him one last time, a few weeks before.  My husband was utterly devastated, his spirit crushed.  He would talk about his Dad, the steady and stable, unshakeable rock.  A man who, in his prime, could bring a high school football player to his knees, just by placing a giant hand on their shoulders.  He could outrun his kids well into his forties.  He sent his teenage son, kicked out by his unbalanced mother in high school, what he could, even though he was barely able to do so. 

That's the moment that my husband said he truly understood that his Dad loved him unconditionally.  His father welcomed him home with open arms, when Rick wasn't able to sustain himself on his own, once passing out from malnutrition in high school, because he didn't make enough working nights to pay for his rent AND food.  His Dad, afraid Rick would leave again, allowed his son liberties he probably wouldn't have under normal circumstances.  Rick would bemusedly consider the times that he was out far later than a high school kid should have been, drinking and carrying on, crawling into bed at the crack of dawn on a Sunday morning, only to have his father bellow downstairs for the boys to get ready for church. 

His father was a big, burly man, who in his declining health, started gaining a lot of weight in his belly and had to rely heavily on oxygen forced into his nostrils, to keep him from passing out.  The last time we saw him, he asked Rick to take a look at the mower out in the barn and Ernie accompanied his son in the truck.  Rick recalled this torturously last evening.  He said that he knew his Dad didn't care about the mower, but only wanted to go out to the barn one last time.  As we were getting ready to head out, Ernie asked his granddaughter, my stepdaughter, to help him up.  She assisted him, arm locked with his, to his recliner, and helped get him settled.  After some long, lingering hugs, we finally left.

So it is today, that my husband opened his eyes, pulled me close into the crook of his arm, and sighed heavily.  Today begins the heavy task of preparing to say goodbye to this man, this unshakeable rock, that we all clung to like moss.  My husband got out of bed, scrubbed his tear-stained face, and ran his hands through his shaggy hair.  He grabbed his one good suit to take to the cleaners and left to get a haircut.  The deep brown sodden eyes gave me a lingering, woeful look, and took a breath.  There were tasks to be completed.  This steady man, so much like his father, will have several more devastating days ahead.  Last night, in reflection, when he felt miserable and completely swathed in grief and loneliness, my husband said something both utterly soulful and completely heartbreaking.  His rejoinder to me stating the timeless platitudes of loss, saying once again that Ernie was in a better place and at peace, was to state that he knew he would be a great man if he could leave half the legacy that his father Ernie had left on this earth.  What he doesn't realize is that he's already well on his way.

New Book Review

Beautiful Ruins by Jess Walter

I honestly don't know what to say about this novel. I feel like there were a lot of reasons for me to love this novel. There was an array of strong characters, a lovely European location (for half of the book), and a story that spanned half a century. 

However, it just didn't all work for me. I really liked the simplicity and beauty of the relationship between Pasquale and Dee Moray. A man who feels he must be honorable and "save" this damsel in distress, whom he also happens to become enamored of at first sight. A woman who loved a man who she would never have (Richard Burton) and recognizing the choice she needed to make to respect herself, all while becoming emotionally vulnerable with Pasquale and somewhat attached. The man recognizing himself that to be truly honorable to this woman, he needed to face the dishonor in his own life. 

However, I felt like the intervention of the movie business into the novel was contrived and really made the novel end in a tailspin. I didn't like the jumps in years (decades) between chapters as it felt very disjointed to me, and I didn't like that he had to use Richard Burton and Liz Taylor to make the story more "interesting". 

I really felt that if he had invested in the central characters in Italy: Pasquale, Dee, Alvis Bender, and Amedea, that there would have been a much better story there. The same themes could have been explored within that story. 

The central theme is great and I feel like the "honor" of the one story could have been beautifully handled, with the same outcome, without having to integrate a horrible, self-serving Hollywood producer, Michael Deane, and the terrible character of Shane Wheeler, who was literally just a translator. I actually agree with Shane's ex-wife Saundra when she calls him milk-fed veal. He's just so simpering and self-serving and just like Michael Deane, but supposedly having "learned his lesson" about being that way. Claire Silver, her boyfriend Darryl, and even Pat Bender and Lydia, were just there to provide a couple more subplots (not great ones either) and why, oh why was the Donner party even mentioned in this book? Ugh.

Finally, I couldn't stand the last chapter of this book. The last page was okay, but all of the "up-to-dates" of everybody's lives was just someone trying to tie up the loose ends quickly. It felt sloppy to me.

In the interest of not giving this a completely scathing review, the only other plus in this novel was the relationship of Pat and Lydia. I think I would be bored if I just read a cliche novel about these two and overcoming hardship and blah, blah, blah, but I really feel like this was the only other relationship that was real in this book and I wish it would have been left for another novel, instead of trying to shove them in, just so you can continue referencing Richard Burton for another 10 chapters. 

There, that's it. I'm sorry that I didn't like it. I really wanted to and I really tried. I liked a part of it, but that little piece just wasn't big enough for me. 

And so...

And so it goes that I am 36 years old and seeking therapy for the first time in my life.  I have come to the realization lately that I cannot, in fact, do it all on my own.

I cannot always pull myself up out of the rabbit hole of disturbing and frightening thoughts and I cannot always rely on others to pull me out either.  I have had dreadful thoughts lately.  Thoughts that I can barely reveal to myself , let alone to my spouse, my children, my family.  Thoughts of darkness and death.  Dying and what really happens at the end.  I am Catholic and I totally believe in heaven and purgatory, but this transition terrifies me.  Will it hurt?  How painful will it be?  Will I even know the difference since I don't remember the nonexistence that was there before my existence?  I start down that rabbit hole and go all the way down, to the wretched bottom, gasping for air and becoming hyper-conscious of my heart and how it beats and oh my goodness, is it starting to go faster?  Is it skipping beats?  Oh no, maybe this is it!

I actually had these thoughts on New Year's Eve.  As the clock ticked down to midnight and the New Year, I honestly questioned whether I would just die right there on the spot.  I try to assuage this fears by remembering that while I was under anesthesia for my stereotaxis ablation (for my atrial fibrillation) that apparently my heart stopped and I didn't remember a thing, nor did I feel a thing.  However, that's not enough.  I obsess over these feelings.  Even now, it is becoming increasingly difficult for me to write this piece without starting the spiral.

Apparently, the spiral is the commonality.  The commonality that links all those like me who suffer from acute anxiety and panic attacks.  Something I had never experienced until the night before Thanksgiving.  Something I couldn't even identify as that at the time.  I have sought (almost wrote seeked, for shame English major!) out mentors and people that listen well.  I have talked over and over with my spouse.  One of them is in my husband's RCIA class (he's converting to Catholicism after 9 years of marriage).  She is a team leader and she has helped talk me off the ledge, when I was starting to spiral and I had tears in my eyes and thought I was going crazy.  She reminded me that Jesus is there in every moment.  My guardian angel is there.  To seek them, turn to them, instead of wrapping myself up in the fear.  It helps.  Praying the rosary on the way to work each morning helps.

 Trying to give myself up to the Lord is difficult and frightening.  I've never been great at praying.  Brief moments of lifting thoughts up to God constitute the majority of my prayers.  Even then as I am praying I can feel myself focusing too much on my fear.

I've taken up meditation.  I try to meditate 15 minutes a day, during my morning break at work.  I currently switch between one of 3 mantras.  "Inhale Peace, Exhale Love", "Christ is my Center", and "Ever Faithful, Ever Loving".  Meditation does help, but sometimes even that isn't enough.

So, I broke down.  I did something that I have never done before.  I hadn't done it, because I grew up thinking that I would be weak for reaching out.  I would be looked at as even more nuts than most people probably already think that I am.  I talked with my PCP about it and she prescribed anxiety medication.  She also recommended several different therapists to try.  She explained that anxiety, like cancer, can go into remission and that therapy and medication can help abate the fear and give back control.

I am ready to fight this thing. I am ready to spend more time with my husband and my kids and enjoy the day.  I am ready to not want to curl up in a ball and sit all day long.  I am ready to let these avenues of support open up and help swallow that fear whole, after being flooded with positive light and faith.

God of mercy, God of eternal love, 

Help me to raise my cries to you.  Help me to seek you in desperation and pain, in joy and solace.  

The leper's faith was enough for him to be healed.  Let me also seek that healing in my heart, so that I can give more of myself to you. 

 Mary, help me to emulate your beautiful example of obedience in doing God's will and not my own.  

Lord, grant all my friends and family grace and blessings and thank you for the blessings in my life.  

Amen.

Tonight, in the shower, I sat on the floor of my narrow tub, letting the hot water pelt the end of my nose and my eyelashes and flow over my lap and legs and feet.  As the water pelted me I asked myself what I wanted from this moment, this day, this life.  As the water washed away the fear trying to set up camp in my gut, I felt strong, because I knew what I wanted.  I wanted to choose joy and not fear.


I hope all of you understand that reaching out for help is not a bad thing.  It isn't taboo.  We all need help.  We all need support.  Please, if you have anxiety issues or feel depressed, see you doctor and ask for recommendations for a licensed clinical social worker or other therapist to speak with regularly.  You are NOT alone.

No-Spend August Part Deux!

Okay, on to the finer points of a no-spend month!  Let's get to it.

One of the main things that you have to remember when you are planning a fiscal fast for a month is that you have to make time for fun things.  You have to be able seek out free events to do in order to keep your sanity.  Trust me, you will NEED to get out of the house.  We were lucky and found several in our community, including a cool classic car show downtown and a free showing of "The Little Rascals" at our lake's sports complex.  We also have a really nice park that has all kinds of things to climb on and trails within our community to bike or walk on.  I feel like that's what helped keep us going through the majority of the month.

The second thing that helped keep us going was the prep work we did ahead of time.  I already told you that we did buy some stuff ahead of time.  Mainly, we bought toilet paper and extra shampoo, body wash, and conditioner.  I also use a lot of homemade cleaners.  So, when I was planning this, I already knew I had plenty of homemade laundry detergent.  The type I make is called White Silk Purse Laundry Soap.  I add several squirts of Dawn dish soap and half of a 24 oz. container of Oxiclean to the recipe as well and it makes enough to last about 6 months for my family.  (2 adults and 2 part-time kiddos)

When I planned the 8-10 meals for the month, I tried to make sure that a lot of the ingredients weren't going to be perishable within a week and I tried to integrate a lot of them into different recipes.

The best part of the prep work was freezing some food to have on hand for when we really didn't want to make anything ourselves.  That's where BIEROCKS come in...mmmmm, bierocks.  I know that they are sometimes referred to Runzas in Nebraska and such, but bierocks are a staple here in the German-settled towns of northeast Kansas.  They are basically like rolls filled with meat, cabbage, and cheese.

The recipe I used is fantastic!  It's homemade dough and it rises beautifully and tastes delicious.  I like to use Guinness to steam the cabbage and add flavor.  This recipe makes about a dozen bierocks.  I made up the hamburger ones first and they tasted super yummy.  Then, I made the sausage ones.  My husband and I just stared open-mouthed at each other when we tested the filling..it was even better than the hamburger filling!  I highly, highly recommend these.  They freeze very well and reheat easily.  To freeze you simply want to wrap them individually in aluminum foil and freeze them individually.  Once frozen, we transferred to gallon freezer Ziploc bags and stored in our deep freeze.  To reheat simply unwrap, wrap in a slightly damp paper towel, and microwave for 2-4 minutes, depending on your microwave's power.  The damp paper towel helps keep the dough from getting too hard.  You can also slap those babies on parchment paper on a baking sheet and place in the oven at 400 degrees for 20-30 minutes.

Bierocks

Dough:
3 1/2-4 cups flour
3 T. sugar
1 tsp. salt
1 T. instant potato flakes
2 pkgs. active dry yeast
1 cup milk
1/2 cup water
1/4 cup margarine or unsalted butter

Combine 2 1/2 cups flour, sugar, salt, potato flakes, and yeast in a large bowl.  In a small saucepan, combine milk, water, and margarine.  Heat to 130 degrees (margarine does not need to melt).  Add liquid mixture to dry ingredients and beat well.  Add enough additional flour to make a soft dough.  Turn out onto lightly floured surface; knead until smooth and elastic, about 5 minutes.  Cover with a towel and let rest 15 minutes.

Filling:
1 1/2 lbs. ground beef or sausage (or a mixture of the two)
3/4 tsp. salt and pepper
1 onion, chopped
2 cups cabbage, chopped
1 bottle Guinness beer
1/2 cup jalapeno slices (optional)
1 cup shredded cheddar cheese (optional)


Brown beef, salt, pepper, and jalapenos.  Add the onion and cabbage; cover and steam until onion is crisp-tender and cabbage is wilted.  Add beer and and let reduce down about 10 minutes or so.  Stir in cheese and let melt.

Pinch off a small amount of dough, about the size of an egg.  Roll into a circle and place 1 heaping tablespoon of filling on dough.  Bring edges together and pinch; place on greased pan.  Bake 375 degrees for 20 minutes or until lightly browned.

The second staple of our no-spend month was bread.  I didn't want to buy several loaves ahead of time, because I hate the taste of frozen bread and didn't want it to go bad before I could eat it.  I found a great recipe for a half wheat/half white bread.  It is easy peasy and tastes delicious, especially when it is still warm.
You can find the recipe here:  Whole Wheat Wonderfulness

A lot of details went into planning and prepping for this fiscal fast, but needless to say, it was worth it in the end.  We saved up a lot of money quickly and learned the value of making things from scratch.  I also found that because of how we planned and being able to use what was on hand, I have curbed my grocery shopping quite a bit.  In fact, just yesterday for lunch I made a poorman's meal for the family.  It consisted of fried potatoes and onions, mixed with hot dogs, scrambled eggs, and cheese.  We used up stuff we had on hand and it was a hearty meal.

I almost forgot that I also was so determined not to spend anything that I ended up bartering with my neighbor for items I needed.  I had canned several different kinds of pickles and jams this summer and traded some homemade peach jam with her in exchange for some extra all natural enzyme cleaner (I add it to my dishwasher load, along with homemade dishwasher detergent) and eggs (she has her own chicken coop).
I hope that this gives you some ideas for your own fiscal fast.  Please be sure to comment below and send any questions to me.  I would be glad to answer in more detail.

Thanks for reading!

Today

October is Pregnancy/Infant Loss and SIDS Awareness month.  This post was originally written on another blog I started in May 2011, but I didn't blog again after that.  I really like this piece, so I am publishing it here.

I was supposed to meet you this week.  It's strange.  I didn't even know you before you were gone and yet, I miss you still.  You were mine, but it was never meant to be.  Every time I think of you, I ache.  Grief can be transient, but the thought of you remains constant.  I never wanted anything more than I wanted you.

I miscarried my child at 7 weeks.  October 8, 2010.  I had been trying for over 2 1/2 years to have a child.  The day that I miscarried was like any ordinary day.  My husband and I were going to our best friends' house.  We had been back from vacation for about a month.  I had PCOS, so I didn't always have a consistent period.  I had stopped taking pregnancy tests a while ago, because every time I thought I might be, it was a negative.  I thought this was just another hiccup in my cycle. I had started spotting a tiny bit that morning, but I thought it was just the beginning of my next period.  I had used a tampon.  When I took a shower that evening, I removed it.  That's when it happened.  I didn't realize what the heck was going on at that moment.  Later, it all made sense.  That's when I miscarried and the waves of disappointment came crashing in.

We had taken a 6-years-late honeymoon in Cocoa Beach, Florida.  It was gorgeous.  We laid on the beach, waded in the ocean, and ate fresh, fabulous seafood.  We even did some deep-sea fishing and kayaked with manatees among the mangrove trees.  Utterly perfect.  In between of course, we made love.  A lot.  I remember telling my husband to quit nipping at my breast, because MY GOODNESS THAT REALLY HURTS, STOP IT!!  That should have been a sign, but I never connected the dots.  I was so used to disappointment.

After that shower, still in shock from what I thought had happened, we went to our friends' house and I asked my friend questions, as she'd had 2 miscarriages before they got pregnant with their little boy, who was only a month and a half old at the time.  She confirmed that's what it probably was.  How could that be?  I was stunned.  I'm not a hugging type, but she put her arms around me and let me know she was there for me.

But this week is the week.  It would've been the final week (assuming I hadn't gone early).  My coworker is due 4 weeks from now.  My younger sister, the same.  My sister-in-law in 7 1/2 weeks.  Several of my friends have had children in the last few months.

This aching grief has attacked again.  This is why I am blogging.  I no longer know what to do with my thoughts.  They tumble through my mind.  I have to organize them and so here I am.  Labeling my grief and storing it in a box for posterity.  The hurt lingers, but I will go on.  Even knowing what this week means...never meeting YOU, child.  I miss you.

In remembrance

Today, as I was driving into work, after I had prayed my daily rosary, I reflected on that terrible day a dozen years ago.  I couldn't help but think how far our nation had gotten away from that date.  For many weeks and months following 9/11, the United States stood in solidarity to grieve for, and honor, those who were rushed to Heaven's gates that day.

I felt an urgency to do something, anything, to remember the compassion and love our nation strived for in the wake of that tragedy.  So this morning I stopped at the Kwik Shop to get my morning pop and breakfast burrito.  Fortuitously, the man behind was also someone I recognized as a regular, so I told the clerk that I wanted to pay for his stuff as well.  The clerk welcomed the offer and asked the man what he had.  That man was a bit confused and I stated again that I wanted to pay for his food.  He asked me why I would want to do such a thing and I said that well, today was Patriot Day and I just felt like I needed to do something for my fellow man to remember that day.  He thanked me profusely as I stood with tears in my eyes.  I was so nervous about doing that, about committing a random act of kindness and I was so focused on remembering that day, that I was actually tearing up over it.  The clerk was a bit taken aback and just told me how cool that was to do.  I said that I had often thought about doing things like that, but sometimes it is hard to put into practice, because you are nervous or embarrassed.  

The reason for this story is simple.  Never forget the compassion and love that come during tragedy because that is what strengthens humanity.  The simple acts of courtesy and kindness that we display to individuals on a daily basis become the bridge that we build to help us connect with people that are strangers, that we find hard to love, that we sometimes gossip about or condescend to, and I don't want to forget that feeling that comes with humility.  Humility in serving your fellow man is absolutely one of the best feelings in the world.  I hope to slowly get better at it every day.  I encourage all of you today to commit to one act of kindness.  It doesn't have to be huge, it doesn't have to be monetary, but I don't want anyone to forget the best intentions that come with remembering love for our fellow man.  Never forget.  We CAN change the world.