A Day in the Baldwin House

Chandler graciously invited me to share my day; here's to the challenge! 

My name is Julie Baldwin. I am a part-time online United States history teacher who is still on summer break/ maternity leave for a few more weeks. My husband is an emergency medicine resident, which adds variety to our schedule. We have three children under 3 years old, going on four years of marriage, and living far away from our respective home bases. For better and for could-do-better, no day is the same...

Friday - Casa Baldwin - PA, USA

At some point in the morning, I wake up to feed Stephen (3 months). It is still dark out. I peer into his face and his eyes are open. He's hungry! I grab my phone and text my husband Will, who is working overnight in the surgical ICU. He's typing up notes before rounds. Stephen falls back asleep and I plop him into the rock 'n sleep one more time...

The light wakes me soon enough... I fight the urge to ignore reality. I am content to stare at this little pudding pie drowsily.

7-8 a.m.: Get Grace (3) and Laura (1.5) up from their cribs; they are wide awake and done relaxing once I enter their room. I'm lucky they've learned how to stay put/ not scream before 7 a.m. I change diapers, feed Stephen again while the girls run around and play upstairs, test my fertility + chart, take my PPD medicine and move the party downstairs for breakfast.

8-10 a.m.: Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday are therapy days for my daughter Grace, but this morning, we are relaxing and waiting for Will to come home from the hospital. Breakfast varies based on time and willingness to exert effort. The girls are enjoying half a breakfast burrito each, a banana, milk and raisins. We read the morning prayers and Scripture from my August issue of the Magnificat.

After breakfast, we play inside in the front room and outside on the porch. Grace is very into coloring; I also stretch her limbs out. Laura likes reading, sliding, and building with + dumping her blocks. We hear the “choo choo train!!!!!”. I am listening to The Fellowship of the Ring while working in the other rooms.

I'll clean up the kitchen, eat my oatmeal and focus on drinking my coffee. Few things more important than my coffee intake at this point [in my mind].

Will comes home early before we leave for our appointment, and is immediately greeted by his girls with hugs around the legs. I go high for a kiss and a hug, after which he says he got no sleep and is headed straight to bed. This month is really tough on all of us. I go back to cleaning my desk off and preparing for us to leave the house.

Breakfast: maple cinnamon steel oats in the crockpot, coffee, milk, bananas, breakfast burritos,

10-11:30 a.m.: Today, we actually went to the chiropractor for the first time! I was nervous... but no need. The only thing I had to fear was the insane amount of paperwork needed (times two). Grace has cerebral palsy, which mainly affects the right side of her body. She has been complaining of knee pain, and I am hoping this will help.

The doctor immediately identifies problem areas and was really fantastic with her. I am duly impressed. I was even more impressed at how calm we both remained while 2/3 of my children cried as my appointment started. Grace subsided when the doctor asked her to hold my hand; he meant it for her, but it really did help me as well. Mothering + desk job means more chiro appointments in our future. I thought he was killing me with the number of cracks I heard in my neck, but a lot of tension is gone and there is less tingling in my arms.

I would almost say that this random appointment is normal for us too, since we are always dancing between different specialists - pediatrician, neurology, eye, OB/GYN and coming soon--ortho! This visit was delightful.

11:30-12:30 p.m.: Grace falls asleep in the car, so I put her down for an early nap. Laura stays up with me and we eat lunch. I feed Stephen again; put Laura down for a nap.

Lunch: chicken breast over spinach salad with tomatoes, feta and balsamic vinegar; Laura has mozzarella cheese stick, grapes, goldfish

I love this one-on-one time with my third wee tot! I have had so many interesting conversations with fellow moms about breastfeeding and my advice is always... Do you. For me, that usually involves a weird angle and not covering up in the cape style. I have a muslin blanket that is perfect for extra coverage and any sprayage (or spit up), but I won't totally cover up any more, as I felt compelled to do with Grace. Why? Because breastfeeding is normal. There is nothing gross about it; it's actually miraculous, when you look into it scientifically. It is not lewd (baby covers the nipple, people. That's the feeding part). If it makes you uncomfortable, look away. If you'd rather use a bottle or need to supplement, go for it. But there is no room for prudish behavior towards a mother feeding her baby because it is an absolute act of love. It is hard, it is a commitment and it is beautiful. Stephen is my third breastfed baby. I wanted to quit within the first month because it was so hard with him. But I stuck with it, and it's one of my favorite times of the day now - relaxing into the couch, feeding him and helping him achieve Hulk status.

12:30-3:30 p.m.: This is magical. Laura skipped her morning nap and since Grace fell asleep WAY before her normal nap time (between 2:30-3 p.m.), so I have the house to myself. I try to do my favorite postpartum work-out video; it's the effort, right? I decide to fold the three piles of laundry I washed yesterday while watching Elementary. After an episode, I work on school prep. (I start teaching online again in less than a month!) Then, I get super tired and I take a rest/ nap till someone wakes up.

3:30-4:30 p.m.: By someone, I mean Laura. This child! We play and I continue to clean up a bit. I wanted to fix zucchini bread, but it's still really hot and I cannot imagine turning the oven on right now. Stephen wants to be fed again... Not sure how many times a day I feed him, honestly, but it is way more than I am writing down.

Mini nap time for us post-feeding.

4:30-5:00 p.m.: Grace is awake and ready to play again; we practice walking down the steps while I hold her right hand. This is a big deal because a) she used to never let anyone hold her right hand, let alone trust anyone who did not also hold her left hand and b) she boycotted walking down the steps earlier this year and we are FINALLY returning to Grace being okay going down (and not just up). We think part of that is because of her eye surgery in July- we're hoping her depth perception improved.

5:00-6:00 p.m.: I start to plan dinner. It's Friday, and I try to serve meatless meals.  The kids color outside on the patio, which is closest to the kitchen.

Dinner: salmon (cooked in a foil packet), brown rice + quinoa, red peppers

6:00-7:00 p.m.: We eat out on the porch tonight. We've been having a lot of picnics lately, and it's just easier to clean up. Will wakes up at some point and comes downstairs. The girls are excited! They climb all over him and forget about dinner.

7:00-8:00 p.m.: More playtime, but we've moved the girls upstairs for a bath. They love it, and they love splashing Will. Jammies, teeth brushed, books read and prayers said.

8:00 p.m.: BEDTIME BABIES. NIGHT NIGHT.

8:00-9:30 p.m.: Oh yeah. Stephen is still awake. Will and I discuss possibilities for the evening. We clean together, and then he goes upstairs to his computer. Stephen helps me fix a quiche.

Quiche: pie crust, cooked sausage, eggs, heavy cream, milk, shredded cheddar cheese - cook at 400 Fahrenheit for 40 minutes

We do more cleaning. (No, really, when does it stop??) I feed Stephen again and relax into the couch.

9:30-11 p.m.: I take my vitamins and melatonin. Will comes down and we watch two episodes of The Wire, season two - really excellent. Gritty; superb in every respect - acting, story lines, writing, production. For those who have not heard of it, it's considered one of, if not the best television drama ever. (Available through Amazon Prime video!)

11 p.m.-12 a.m.: I try to get to bed before midnight every night. It's my work in progress, as a night owl. I am always trying for 11 p.m. but 11:30 is my current record. Will changes Stephen's diaper, and I feed him again, if necessary. I get ready for bed, we talk about what Will should study (pulmonary something was the verdict) and other related topics, and we say night prayers. Will goes up to his office for the night, so his body will stay adjusted for his next night shift. I settle in for the night/ until Stephen wakes again for another eat. Sweet dreams!

. . .

Read more:

A Day in the Armstrong House
A Day in the Fink House
A Day in the Howard House
A Day in the Smith House 

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Maternity Leave Musings (Or, Sorry for Not Writing More): 7 Weeks Young

Bonjour! Hola! Hello, friend. Thank you for reading. How are we (almost) through the month of June and I haven't published again? I suppose summer is my maternity leave and summer vacation. A vacation where I attend circus camp, or, learning to juggle of three kids under three years old and handle toddlers who want the blue cup, not the yellow, or whatever her sister has (currently).

Hi yourself! What have you been doing?!

Stephen was born, I turned in my students' grades, and I was balancing three different medication schedules. Lyme, thrush and postpartum anxiety. PSA: check yourself and your family for ticks, if you spend time outside.

How are you feeling?

If you would have told 18 year old me that I'd be tired by 9:45 p.m. when I was 28, I probably would have laughed. I've always been a night owl... which means now is I can be up at 4 a.m. to walk Stephen around until he falls asleep; collapse into bed; wake up with my two chicks clucking from their bedroom.

Motherhood makes me stronger. It's endurance training. It's creativity and adventure. It's the tea bag in hot water metaphor that Eleanor Roosevelt said. I'm re-learning my limits and re-organzing our schedule/ house. I'm reading books for fun! (Need more David Foster Wallace! Currently reading about Catherine the Great and listening to Tolkien on cd.) I'm getting outside and enjoying our summer schedule; starting postpartum exercise. Grace was just approved for eye surgery by our insurance (hooray! more on that later!), so that's one more thing going our way.

Which is to say, I'm feeling fine. How are you?

Okay, elephant in the room: Seriously - how do you handle three kids by yourself?!

I don't live on an island alone. I have a husband who pitches in with everything and helps keep me focused and organized. I have a cleaning company come once a month since our rental is so old and our children are so young. Friends to text. And family! My MIL came for three weeks, then my mother for two weeks, and after I was alone during a number of night shifts (shakes fist at scheduling gods), my MIL arrived for another couple days stay to pick up our former Honda CRV. It's been a revolving door, honestly.

Sure, many days, I am alone. I've taken the kids out of the house multiple times - the grocery store, therapy, and even wrangled them to two doctors' appointments last Monday. I pack my bag full of snacks/bribes, diapers+wipes, and give myself enough time to get from point A to point B.

You're not convincing me, lady. 

It's a day by day thing.

I take a deep breath, nap when I can (or mentally rest with a t.v. show while I take care of Stephen if the girls are napping) and practice the value of "me" - enough sleep, water, nourishing food, exercise (even just a little), prayer and my medication. Last night, we took a walk to the emergency department for a change of scenery and to give Will dinner; it was a win-win for both of us.

My parents came to visit us after the Youth National Rowing Championship my brother and sister were in a few weekends ago, and my dad reminded me that they got a nanny after three kids. That sounds like a dreamboat, even though I do not work full-time like my mom did (does).

 It does give a person perspective, though. I'm officially in zone-to-zone defense.

Stop the presses. I read "medication" earlier. Are you on medication because you're crazy enough to have three kids in three years?

I developed anxiety while pregnant with Stephen; there were a lot of factors, but by the time the birth came, I was feeling amazing. When Will and I were walking home from the hospital with Stephen, I remember telling him that this was the best I've ever felt after a birth, and how excited I was to jump into this new adventure. About a week later, I felt the baby blues; a week after that, I felt them getting worse. I called my PA and immediately took action (but not before crying to the Phone Nurse). I'm trying to be honest about this because these meds are going to be with me for the summer, at least - and to remove some of the stigma of going on medication. Sometimes, you need it.

And yes: having three kids under three is the craziest and most amazing experience yet. You'll have to trust me there. I don't recommend it to (or for) everyone. But I'm thriving.

What makes it so amazing?

One thing my PA told me is that a lot of women get postpartum depression/ anxiety because their partner is not supportive of them. This is not my issue, and she stressed to me how lucky I am. I can 110 percent say that I could not do this without Will, even though his hours are not super-changing and residency is still residency. Have you ever been part of a team where your side is always for you? Even when you're crying because you ordered the birth announcements and made a minor error that no one else notices unless you point it out to them?

Will and I are both very independent people, and one of the best parts of having more kids is how we've become more interdependent on each other and really embraced the family lifestyle. This is not easy with our schedule; whether it's falling asleep on the girls' floor after a shift so he can be there for the bedtime routine, or staying up late to clean the kitchen and get ready for the next day.

One of my favorite sayings its from Tolkien's The Fellowship of the Ring: "All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us." Will and I choose each other every day. It sounds romantic, and it is; it can also be hard and self-denying. Still, we see beauty in what we know and how we choose to love ourselves, each other and our family. This is amazing. The actions we do each day builds our family, our adventures, our life. Boring is a perspective.

So! Things we're doing:

• Cleaning up/out every single room in the house. We've completed 4 so far; working on the dining room (dining room/ my downstairs office/ the girls' art table) right now
• Writing/ sending birth announcements and thank you cards 
• Playing outside and taking walks to the park
• Adjusting nap schedules 
• Eating popsicles
• Napping and getting to bed earlier 
• Books on cd; tv shows from the library; podcasts during the day and night
• Starting potty training (and watching Potty Time)
• Adding more items to my Subscribe & Save (guilty pleasure/ part of our kids budgeting)
• Making a zillion lists
• G's therapies 
• Trips to the library and grocery store
• Exploring new places
• Work stuff (third year and last year of residency starts tomorrow!)
• Posting on Instagram 

Hopefully, I'll publish more too (I write all the time, but I'm trying to keep it 50-50 with my reading). But in the meantime, here's to new adventures. May you have one every day.

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Building Up My Excuse Wall Nice And High

Sorry my latest Bright Maidens post is late... again. I wasn't out of the country this time. I wasn't recovering from jet lag either. I did drive my brother to the doctor and then to his interview with the Navy, but that shouldn't have prevented me from posting. My laptop refusing to turn on, however, did.

Okay Julie, you're thinking. Not a big deal. Just a post. You couldn't have prevented your computer from deciding to go black and then have little Windows icon to swirl around for hours.

But, I beg to differ. I missed a deadline.

In professional journalism, my past life, that doesn't happen. You miss a deadline and... well, bad news bears, yo. You're messin' with the lay-out folks now. I used to lose a lot of sleep under the pressure of a deadline. It was wonderful and exhilarating. I took pride in it. I liked how hard I could work under pressure, and the beautiful prose tapped out of my fingertips.

As some older readers know, I used to be a reporter. I covered the statehouse and had a jolly good time. Then, for many reasons, I quit, moved home and began writing and researching for the family business. I'm still Arts and Letters Editor of a quarterly, but I've mostly hopped off my journalism perch, and am enjoying a more distant view of a business I once thought of as my life.

As Girl Scouts taught me, make new friends, but keep the old

It is amazing what distance will do for perspective. I talked to a good friend last week, and he asked me about what I am up to. The conversation almost made me laugh from glee, that pithy C.S. Lewis line about telling God your plans coming to mind, and I told my friend how much I am enjoying life. We have been friends since college: he knew me when I was dead-set on D.C., saw me lean towards marketing, helped edit my first academic journal piece, and has been a wonderful friend to me. My update was much longer than his, for better or worse. He's still on the same track: rocking med school.

On one hand, I envy those in medical or law school, those working in their field of choice, those who shaken off the dust of their hometown and have arrived on the scene in the big city. There's a plan and a path, and the fruit of one's hard work can usually be seen on a larger scale. They're makin' their mark, and they won't stop until they get there.

But where are they going, exactly?

I find there's something alluring about striking out on my own path, beating my own drum, figuring "it" out. Belle sings in Disney's Beauty and the Beast about the provincial life, saying she wants more and declaring that there must be more!

I sympathize with Belle, but only to an extent. I work for my family business. I like it, but sometimes I forget that one must work within one's postage stamp of native soil to really excel. It takes experiences like talking to good friends to remind me of what I have, and how blessed I am to be at home.

Every choice is a give and take, and I'm freely and no longer choosing the promise of a career over my relationships with people. (Not that other people in their respective fields necessarily are-- but I was, which is my point.)

Leaping down the hill in Georgia

Living at home again has taught me how to handle the unexpected. I have to be diligent at work, or else I won't be able to get my work done on time when my parents need me to take my brother-with-mono to the doctor again.

In two weeks, I have a couple book reviews due. I need to plan ahead to make deadline, which includes Saturday Fun (a.k.a. all house clean-up) and washing dinner dishes. I'm helping someone do research for a book: there's a schedule I have to keep to. I might go overseas again; I play tennis on Tuesdays, see friends and B. through the week, and go on walk-runs with my dog. I'm doing my own research, and writing letters, and writing more articles, including my Bright Maidens posts.

I realized today: I really should plan to publish earlier than the day of. Life happens, but that doesn't mean writing shouldn't.

Thus, I am sorry, sort of.

Perhaps I shouldn't be. Maybe you didn't even notice, dear readers, but nonetheless, please accept my apology for tardiness and bear witness to my persistence in attempting to publish things on time. I will return to my old habits, mostly.

As Tolkien wrote in The Fellowship of the Ring (which I am listening to during my daily hour commute, to lessen the time brunt), "All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us."

I'm not sorry I'm spending my time with people, but I am for not publishing on time, which is, in a way, an opportunity to spend time and share my thoughts with y'all, as you share back with me.

Here's something to read in the meantime: Knocking at the Door: Musings on history, philosophy, theology, literature, and culture. It's a blog by my good friend Mitch, a grad student at TCU studying the Civil War. He also features the above Tolkien quote and offers lovely commentary on things he reads.

Also worth a skim: Holy Women & Everyday Hero Priests -UPDATE by Elizabeth Scalia

Happy Wednesday, y'all! And thanks for reading.

What Are You Reading?

I'm back, after a loooong time. Can't promise consistency, but at least content. Volume 21, baby!

one

This week, I bought more books than my New Years' Resolutions allowed*. I said 3? Well, I meant 8! It's summer, does that count for anything?

I also renewed two subscriptions (First Things and The New Criterion) and took out a third (Touchstone, because its price was blessedly and severely reduced). I sadly am letting one of my newspapers go, though, and am happy to still have my Wall Street Journal, National Catholic Register, Financial Times, and The Magnificat.

Have you bought any good reads lately? Are you supporting excellent writing and the advancement of intellect?

two

Elizabeth is always marveled by how much I read. I thought I'd share the five books I am currently reading (yes, at the same time; I like multitasking):

I got this one for Christmas and am loving it:

Edith Stein and Companions On The Way to Auschwitz by Father Paul Hamans

This thick one will be finished before the summer is out - fantastic and meticulously written and researched:

From Dawn to Decadence: 500 Years of Western Cultural Life by Jacques Barzun

This one is really interesting and insightful:

Philosophy 101 By Socrates by Peter Kreeft

B. lent me this one, and it is hil-arious:

A Practical Guide to Racism by C. H. Dalton

I am listening to this one in the car, and it is, of course, just wonderful:

The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien

In July, I'm going to start Brighton Rock by Graham Greene for my long-distance book club with Tessa and Brenna! Excited to read more Graham Greene - I love The Heart of the Matter and The Power and the Glory. Highly recommend both as well, if people are looking for summer reading recommendations.

Up next: Christopher Dawson, Zora Neale Hurston, Pope Benedict XVI and some Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

three

Here is my blog referral of the week: Born After Reagan

My friend Logan started it a few months ago, and now I am excited for the 2012 election just so I can read what he has to say about it!

Why yes, we did meet Ron Paul together three years ago:

CPAC 2008

four

The topic for next week's Bright Maidens' post is picked! Next Tuesday, please join us in discussing "Catholic Modesty."

If you're a first time participator, all you have to do is write on the same subject and post your response to the topic on our FB wall. Wa-la! If you're not on FB but still want to participate, e-mail it and we will post it for you to share with the group. If you're on Twitter, our hashtag is #brightmaidens (with an 's' on the end!) to share posts and tweets.

Also, Bright Maidens refers to we three girls, but we have both males and females participating. The male hashtag on Twitter is #cathdudes if you want to read some some cool Catholic dudes.

A re-cap of last week's topic, a response to Max Lindenman's article on "Dating Nice Catholic Girls":
Elizabeth: On Reading Confused Catholic Writers
Trista: Please Don't Call Me A Prude
Julie: Help! Help! I'm Being Repressed!

Elizabeth makes a list of all the contributions too, so please check our FB page later for that!

five

I've been home for a week, and am still actively learning to adjust to a new sleep schedule, being back at work, and hearing people talk to me in English. As happy as I am to be home, South Korea was an amazing experience. I'll give you a sneak peek from my weekend in Busan:

This is a kimbab, and the best thing I ate in South Korea (stay tuned!)

Best bathroom sign EVER.

The Eastern Sea, a.k.a. The Sea of Japan. But they don't like the Japanese, so don't call it that, please.

The Busan fish market. I'm going to have a whole post on food.

six

I'm also going to have a whole post on drinking in South Korea. Here's me trying authentic Korean beer for the first time:

So innocent.

There are so many patron saints of beer; they obviously did not invoke any of them!

seven

I bought Adele's latest album, 21. I seriously do not know why I waited so long. It is wonderful, soul-filled and beautiful.

Here's "Someone Like You" with Adele talking about why she wrote the song. Warning: I teared up a bit.



She's a two months younger than me, too. Gives a girl perspective!

Okay, one more, this one upbeat: "Set Fire To The Rain"



SHE IS SO AMAZING. Buy her music. Make her famous and wealthy, she deserves it. I want her singing forever and ever.

Happy Friday, friends! See Conversion Diary for more. Also, say a prayer for Jen! She's having her baby on Wednesday!!

*I've been miserably failing to follow most of my New Years' resolutions, actually, which is why I take the book buying limit one so seriously!

Chwismas Family Robison

My uncle gave me a book of modern poets and a disk recording of them reciting their poetry, so my Poem of the Week fire just had gasoline squirted on it. Here's a 20th century poem (and poet!) that wasn't in the book, but should have been:

"I Sit and Think" by J.R.R. Tolkien

I sit beside the fire and think
of all that I have seen,
of meadow-flowers and butterflies
in summers that have been;

Of yellow leaves and gossamer
in autumns that there were,
with morning mist and silver sun
and wind upon my hair.

I sit beside the fire and think
of how the world will be
when winter comes without a spring
that I shall never see.

For still there are so many things
that I have never seen:
in every wood in every spring
there is a different green.

I sit beside the fire and think
of people long ago,
and people who will see a world
that I shall never know.

But all the while I sit and think
of times there were before,
I listen for returning feet
and voices at the door.

Knock, and the Door will be Opened

I am usually amused with people who ask me if I am going to become a nun since I am "so Catholic," especially since I discerning going to graduate school for a MA in Theology instead of my original decision of a MS or MBA in Marketing. Firstly, let the record stand: No, I am not. I did pray and discern about whether I had a religious vocation during college, but that time period was quite brief and very confirming. Besides, I've always been more interested in being a missionary if anything. (But that's another story, for another post.)

Secondly, I am not "so Catholic"-- I am just "Catholic." There is nothing special about me compared to other Christians or Catholics; we are all equal in the sight of God. I follow Jesus Christ, the Church he founded, and her teachings for eternal salvation. Catholics are called to live and preach their faith; but if fellow Catholics do not do so, this does not make them "less Catholic." To be a Catholic is to believe and uphold what the Roman Catholic Church stands for and teaches.

I had a teacher in college who is a fallen-away Catholic. He told me I was the most dogmatic person he has ever met. I think that is an exaggeration, and maybe even a compliment, but it certainly did not stop us from talking about the faith. He liked me because I was a good writer, worked hard and always wanted to improve. He told me I'll go far, if that is what I want. He was supportive when I was discerning whether journalism was really for me in the long-term. He fascinates me. He really does. I can see grace working in his life. I can see how Catholicism has shaped him, and still does, whether he chooses to participate in the sacraments or not.

One of the things I love best about being Catholic is the belief in free-will and choice. I have to choose every day to be Catholic. I've had to make decisions that will affect the rest of my life, and make sacrifices in personal relationships, because I am Catholic. I am sure I will face many more. There is the hard-to-accept "just because you can, doesn't mean you should" notion that has haunted me my entire life. I've always been very rebellious. I don't like being told what to do. I'm impulsive. I'm passionate. I like being in charge. I've always strove to do, not just be.

But, especially in the past year, I've become less so. This does not mean I now roll over and blindly submit to everything. It means I am making a choice. As a writer, I've grown very used to being open to change and correction. To become better, I have to be edited for style, substance and grammar; otherwise, my writing would only get worse and no one would read me.

It is the same with relationships and the ability to receive constructive criticism. They are both a necessary part of growing as a person. My dad used to tell me, "Julie, we love you, so we're trying to toughen you up--just like steak tenderizer." And you know what? I tend to like people more who genuinely give me criticism for my growth, as opposed to those who give me advice while thinking of themselves or trying to make a point. This is the same with discernment of vocation--being open to answering the call of Christ in your life. Being humble enough to recognize that he has a purpose for you, and that purpose might not be what you have in mind.

Having a vocation is not just for religious people. The topic of vocation is possibly one of the most frustrating topics for me to research. So many resources are very well-equipped to handle people being called for the priesthood or to be a sister or nun (there is a difference-- they take different vows; sisters lead a more active life in the community, and nuns lead a more monastic life). What about us laity?

St. Thomas More is my favorite example of this, for two reasons. First, because he, as a brilliant lay man, answered the call of being Chancellor of England for his friend King Henry VIII, even though he didn't want to; he also did not back down from his convictions either, especially in his elevated position, which ended up costing him his head in 1535. Second, because of a book he translated-- The Life of Pico-- in which Pico's nephew (who wrote the book) ended this fabulous homage to his uncle by saying he believes Pico went to Purgatory upon dying, not yet Heaven, because he did not follow his true vocation, despite his otherwise faithfulness. Willful disobedience did expel Adam and Eve from the Garden, so it is possible.

Does that jolt anyone else? Discerning one's vocation is tough, mainly because it could very easily change. It is very easy to get caught up in the "I want" part of life. This is not to say "I" am not important and "I" should not do what makes me happy in this life. God wants us to be happy. God also wants us to listen.

Discernment of one's vocation is about actively listening. And that has not been easy for me. I always want to explain my choices to God, even though he already sees into my heart. I do not fight with God, but I certainly do not always agree with many of his decisions. I scrunch up my nose. I ask questions. We have long dialogues. There are painful silences and realizations. And that is okay. There is still joy and contentment. He is, after all, all-knowing.

My vocation may never be fully realized, but, as a Christian, I understand my place in the world regardless of clarity. I have purpose now, as a daughter, sister, employee and friend, and that is why I need to strive to do good- so that one day I will prepared to step into another role. And this is why I am Roman Catholic. Because one person's failing does not weaken the faith or the Church. If I don't listen to God, if I don't do my duty, if I lead others' astray, I am but one person. I like to think I am more important-- that if I say the right thing, do the right thing, all manner of things shall be well. The plan will work. But sin, man's curse, is part of human nature.

Pope Benedict XVI (the-then Cardinal Ratzinger) wrote in his 1963 book Introduction to Christianity,

"[Jesus] has drawn sin to himself, made it his lot, and so revealed what true "holiness" is: not separation, but union; not judgment, but redeeming love. Is the Church not simply the continuation of God's deliberate plunge into human wretchedness; is she not simply the continuation of Jesus' habit of sitting at table with sinners, of his mingling with the misery of sin to the point where he actually seems to sink under its weight? Is there not revealed in the unholy holiness of the Church, as opposed to man's expectation of purity, God's true holiness, which is love, love that does not keep its distance in a sort of aristocratic, untouchable purity but mixes with the dirt of the world, in order thus to overcome it? Can, therefore, the holiness of the Church be anything but the bearing with one another that comes, of course, from the fact that all of us are bourne up by Christ?"

We live in an age that has so much to gain, and even more to lose (a sentiment particularly present in yesterday's Election Day results and in the silly season leading up to it). Walker Percy wrote,

"The old modern age is ended. We live in a post-modern as well as a post-Christian age. ... It is post-Christian in the sense that people no longer understand themselves, as they understood themselves for some fifteen hundred years, as ensouled creatures under God, born to trouble and whose salvation depends upon the entrance of God into history as Jesus Christ. It is post-modern because the Age of Enlightenment with its vision of man as a rational creature, naturally good and part of the cosmos which itself is understandable by natural science-this age has also ended. It ended with the catastrophes of the twentieth century."

Vocation is a gift, and a grace. It is a calling. To have such a God who thinks each of his people is special and, moreover, gives each person has a role, is a blessing. This world has so much potential, with so much to do, and the mystery of humanity and the question of its vocation is nicely characterized by Tolkien, I think, when he says that not all who wander are lost.

If you've ever wondered about the title of this blog...

Here is a short essay (compared the the 10+ pagers I'll be writing for most of my other classes this semester) I wrote for my honors seminar.

What’s in a book?

Polonius: “What do you read, my Lord?”
Hamlet: “Words, words, words.”
—Hamlet (II.ii.193-194)

My 3rd grade teacher, Mrs. Haines, called my mother. I was surprised when I found out. I racked my brain for any shenanigans I had been involved with in the last week.

“No, you’re not in trouble,” said my mother with a smirk. I peered up at her.

“Then what is it?” I asked, skeptic.

“Julie, I’m going to write something and I want you to read it.”

I sighed. I hated these games. She wrote. I read. Only, I couldn’t really. It was fuzzy. That’s why Mrs. Haines had called. I needed glasses at the tender age of ten. Blame it on reading under the covers, but if my parents had allowed me to read with the lights on as long as I wanted, I would not have had to resort to flashlights and, ergo, I would not have needed glasses. Now, fully looking the part of a bookworm, I read more, not less. My parents—both of whom wear glasses—began to relent. The light started to stay on later.

The mind is a terrible thing to surrender. Once captured, it is hard to regain, the grooves of constant wear difficult to embed again. James V. Schall, S.J., in his book The Life of the Mind: On the Joys and Travails of Thinking, implores his readers to read intelligently. When I was younger, I would not have understood what that meant. Reading was my favorite thing to do as a child. I played with my siblings, usually soccer or House, but reading was the best. I read the Anne of Green Gables series, Nancy Drew Mysteries, all ten Little House on the Prairie books, The Chronicles of Narnia, fairy tales and anything else I found around the house: 'Cricket,' a youth literary magazine; my parents’ eclectic collection of medical texts and history books from their undergraduate and graduate days; the lives of the saints and other religious writing; encyclopedias and novels. There is nothing more alluring to a small child than books she thinks she should not read. I strove to read prolifically and not discriminately, to conquer the library. Little did I know, those books were the beginning of my education.

Books have always been a constant in my life, much like eating popsicles in the summer, making lopsided snowmen in the winter, Mass every Sunday, and my loud family. It helped that my parents encourage reading and pushed for a higher intellectual capacity normally expected of children. I couldn’t tell you the first book I ever read by myself, but I remember the thrill I felt, the goose bumps from anticipation, eagerly turning the pages. My overactive imagination fed on words, as well as exploring the neighborhood; my barefoot feet unafraid of grass or gravel, chasing fireflies, pretending I could fly if I swung high enough. My favorite inside spot was in the front room, where I would draw the curtains, sit on the window ledge and read in solitude, a place where no one thought to look for me. It was my corner spot with a view, seeing a world beyond my own.

As I grew older, I began to consider intellect and what books I was reading very carefully. What did it mean to be an intellectual? Intellect could be genetic; after all, there are naturally smart people. People can also be intellectual sloths, which lead me to believe that the mind has to be pushed into being through a habit of reading well, just as athletes train their bodies to perform and chefs improve upon practice of the culinary arts. Thus I began my consumptions of the classics, with the help of advanced English courses and the local half-priced bookstore. The act of reading still came easy, but not full comprehension of the material. I was missing something; I could sense it. What is the point of the intellectual life, I thought, if I do not even get it? Persevero, said the Ancients. I read on.

Last semester, I met a young man who, upon meeting me, lambasted my decision to go to a college like Hillsdale. “You pay too much,” he said, “to have someone tell you what to read. You can read the classics on your own! Self-education—that is how you improve your soul. You don’t need professors. You just need books.”

In theory, I agree with him—no one needs college, unless pursuing a profession that requires higher education. School usually falls into three sections: primary provides the common academic base for learning; secondary prepares the mind for the entertainment of ideas and analytical thinking, as well as continuing to lay the foundation; and college, consequently, is a testing of the mind’s endurance and liberality, as well as strengthening and reinforcing systems of beliefs. College also provides instruction on the further precision of the intellect, a skill not immediately translatable into a non-academic job, but is rather a breadth of mind that can be continually renewed within a person for their entire life if they so choose.

I know my own education has allowed for great growth, but, more importantly, it has fostered a life-long love of books, a withering virtue in modern society. Too many people leave school and hardly crack a book again, let alone read. Isn’t that a failure of education? Traditionally, emphasis is put on the type of job one acquires as the ultimate end, not on the resulting type of person one has become. I have a friend dating a person not in college, and this bothers her. He is a decent human being, works at a steady job and, moreover, he reads good literature in his free time. Schall would see this person as capux ominum, capable of knowing all things, because he learns for the sake of knowledge, not a grade.

Reading contributes to a betterment of the mind and the soul. While reading, your person is changed, for the better or worse. One of my sisters and I disagree on what constitutes a good book. Her choices entertain her; they bore me. Fine—at least she’s reading, some say. Yes, but if reading really is like praying, as Schall says, then it matters what people read. Cultivation of the mind, like a horticulturist working with soil, is not easy. It takes years and is work; to appreciate, one needs to read and re-read so as to allow for the full effect. My favorite author, for example, is Evelyn Waugh. One never reads Waugh the same way twice. Good writing does not need to only appeal to the upper intellect; it should be understood on a base level, but have the ability to transcend regular observation. Each time read, I find a new play on words or understand a deeper meaning I missed on previous readings. Books without depth are like chewing gum for the brain: you read, you take out the flavor, and then you spit it out. No lasting effects, except perhaps a lingering taste.

Schall says he can know who a person is by the type of books they read. The preference to read the easy book can override inclinations to indulge in the Great Books, because that type of reading forces readers step back and face their own lives. If reading good literature does not make the reader contemplate himself, is it truly good? The end of a book is never an actual end, if you’ve really read the book. The profound affect a book has on a person shapes them, even if it was only a line or two out of the entire novel. The connection between the reader and the act of being: that is the point of the intellectual life. The author touches the reader and, in return, the reader touches others. It is not enough to think big, intellectual thoughts if one does not act accordingly on them, and reading is one step closer to that.

The prompt was a reflection on one of the chapters in the book aforementioned. I chose Chapter 2, "Books and the Intellectual Life." I almost feel like I copped out by writing an essay on my love of books, but the paper was due today and I started the book last night. I talked to Stacy (my roommate's big) briefly on gchat, and she provided insight into my work habits [edited for clarity]:

Stacy: haha, yea. I would love to chat more, but I'm at work right now, and should probably do work. But I will definitely talk to you later!
me: totally fine--I'm writing a paper due in a few hours anyways
Stacy: hahaha [...] true to heather and julie style, love it

In other news, today is the birthday of J.R.R. Tolkien!

“Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty forever beyond its reach.” -The Return of the King

and a nice little ditty poem by Bilbo Baggins:
"The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say."

Finally, if you ever need a reason to mobilize, I love this quote, said by Gimli: "Certainty of death, small chance of success. What are we waiting for?"