Giddy Up, Rawhide!

I'm getting back into exercise. Due to my proclivity to shin splints, I always take it slow after babies. A few days ago, I decided to step it up and sprint every other block. Laura falls asleep; Grace loves it.

She leans forward, into the wind, and her left arm goes up and down, up and down, keeping to the tempo of the run. She leans back then, into her seat, and looks up at me, laughing.

I am panting, and smiling, and out of breath. I know I am going to hurt later, and I also know how happy this makes her. I run on.

I'm on summer break right now, and I'm still dealing with frustrations that come with being an adult. But as important as all of this work is, I have not included Will in it. I have not let him help me, and while this is fairly typical (I have to make a lot of day-to-day decisions), this particular situation launched frustrations on both sides.

So is the tale of poor communication when dear husband is working with no sleep... and still, I am the one dropping the ball.

Visiting Dad! Our favorite thing!

Will is working night shift, and when he gets off (almost finished now!), he'll have spent 80++ hours at the hospital in the past five days. These past five days, of course, have included a lot of busy work at home, and I find it easier to handle situations independently.

This is not necessarily a bad thing - a lot of the work I did is beneficial, and helped Will when the time came for him to step in. But I am guilty of hoarding responsibility, channeling Atlas as I carry our world on my shoulders. Do you hoard too?

Unfortunately, as noble as my ideals and intentions are, that is not partnership. That is survival mode, and I have war paint on my face.

Or rather, had. I wiped off my stripes. I am letting myself walk again. I am letting down my guards.

I constantly find myself in a mama bear position. A week ago, Grace had another check-up with her eye doctor. It was decided that her intermittent exotropia in her right eye is getting worse, and she needs to start wearing a patch every day for 1-3 hours.

"It'll be like wrestling a little bear cub," said Dr. K. How prophetic: that afternoon, the first hour of patching was a lot of screaming, yelling, restraining her left arm/hand, and cuddling. Grace would not be bought by vanilla ice cream or Blue's Clues. By the end of the hour, she fell asleep in her swing to Sesame Street tunes on Pandora. Day 1 complete.

I felt very overwhelmed. Will was gone too (night shift, brouhaha) and that seemed to make everything feel worse. When your child has certain needs, crying takes on a less affecting role. Sure, no one wants their child to cry: but sometimes, they have to, as a means to an end. She needs to wear the patch - we're already seeing a stronger right eye as a result! Still, the crying can take an emotional toll on the mama as well. You just want peace on earth, if that is not too much to ask.

It's been much less fighting since then, thank God. Yesterday was an easy two hours, complete with our new ritual of a walk/run. When I am struggling, her grin holds me up. When she is struggling, I'm there to coo and kiss. Add the adorable Laura to the mix, and we're all peaches and cream over here.

I guess I thought summer would be different. Less stress than the school year. But maybe it's not the summer winds that have to change, it's me.

Giddy up, rawhide! Time to keep riding these trails.

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The Gift James Foley Gave Me

When I went upstairs this morning to tell Will about the essay I had read, I hadn't expected to start crying again.

I cried the first time promptly after finishing the last two sentences:

"If nothing else, prayer was the glue that enabled my freedom, an inner freedom first and later the miracle of being released during a war in which the regime had no real incentive to free us. It didn’t make sense, but faith did."

I was on our bed with Grace, and she giggled as I briefly cried, finished changing her diaper, put her down for a nap, and went upstair to Will's office.

I announced to him that I finally knew what I would write about for my Ignitum Today post due on Friday: an essay by James Foley, the American journalist beheaded by ISIS, for his alma mater Marquette University. It was written in 2011, after he was released from captivity in Libya.

He wrote about the power of prayer. He wrote about saying the rosary in his cell: the 100 Hail Marys on his knuckles; an Our Father between every 10 Hail Marys; how praying the rosary, like his mother and grandmother would do, helped keep his mind clear.

He prayed out loud with his colleague, Clare: "It felt energizing to speak our weaknesses and hopes together, as if in a conversation with God, rather than silently and alone."

He wrote about his conversation with his mother, and how prayer penetrates hearts, minds, and across continents:

“I’ve been praying for you to know that I’m OK,” I said. “Haven’t you felt my prayers?”
“Oh, Jimmy, so many people are praying for you. All your friends... Your brother Michael loves you so much.” She started to cry. “The Turkish embassy is trying to see you and also Human Rights Watch. Did you see them?” I said I hadn’t.
“They’re having a prayer vigil for you at Marquette. Don’t you feel our prayers?” she asked.
“I do, Mom, I feel them,” and I thought about this for a second. Maybe it was others’ prayers strengthening me, keeping me afloat.

That vision of the community of saints -- I couldn't shake it from me -- and how one person's faith can ground reality into another person. I thought about saying prayers with Grace before bed, and night prayers with Will before going to sleep. I thought about how much I struggle with getting to daily mass, and the constant distractions posed to each of us in an attempt to dissuade us from praying more and more - to lessen our communication with God.

There is a violent, religious war going on in the world. People are attempting to shape the world in their own image - an image of what they imagine Heaven should be, and are instead creating Hell. People are being beheaded, killed, raped, starved, exiled, beaten and tortured.

I am at home, bemoaning the laundry that has piled up, and that I need to clean up the downstairs before our babysitter candidate comes over for her interview. I know the work I do is important - taking care of one's family and home is a noble duty. But I need to seek more solitude and joy from the act of praying and the love of Scripture. I read when I "have time" and pray "when I can" -- but they should be more ingrained in our life. They should have more priority seating. My God is worth glorifying, and my faith is worth strengthening.

James Foley - may the angels sing you home, and may God welcome you into Heaven. Thank you for your words. Thank you for your witness. May the Lord continue to bless your family, and may they find solace in your life, heart and faith. Thank you for reminding me that the freedom of religion is not only a legal protection, but the freedom to practice my faith in both public and private. The freedom, as Blessed John Paul II said, to do what we ought.

Falling and Flying

Today might have just been one of those days when you whoosh your To-Do list off the table. It started out normally... Grace wakes up; I trudge in and nurse her on the raspberry couch until she is done, and watch her play until Will comes in before his shower. I whoosh her downstairs to fix coffee and a breakfast sandwich for Will before he goes to the hospital library to study for a few hours before journal club and then his shift. I feed her breakfast, try to eat breakfast too, make a few phone calls and then... derailed.

We ended up taking a trip to the pediatrician for a minor (but worrisome to me) ailment, which took way longer than expected, and resulted in both Grace and I taking a 2+ hour nap once we got home.

<< Insert random activities: fixing dinner, play time, cleaning up/ moving piles somewhere else. >>

Grace's day ended with a walk to the ER to drop off her Dad's dinner (and bring a smile to two ladies' faces!), an extended bath time, dancing to Disney Pandora, reading extra books, night prayers and kisses.

It felt good. It felt like such a full day, even though I only accomplished one thing on my To-Do list. Just one.

Perhaps the most important lesson I learned when I was single, and then re-learned when I got married, is the art of being content.

Being is a passive word, but it is not a passive state. One must work on "being" - being yourself, being content.

I've become more content with the reality that I am a slow cook writer (vs. a microwave). I was thinking back to college, when I wrote so many papers a semester, all the newspaper articles, and at least 3 letters a week (plus e-mails!). And as the years pass from writing with a point to writing with a purpose, I am more satisfied with longer stretches between publishing publicly. Less pressure to perform, and thus, more time to experience.

I still have goals! Oh yes. And I still overextend myself and say "Yes!" when I should say "No!", but the magic still carries me with hope and possibility.

I start by asking what is non-negotiable to me and what is negotiable. Non-negotiables, for example, the ability to take care of Grace and Will. The willingness to practice my faith. Keeping in touch with family and friends, and writing as a ministry and as a passion.

Negotiables include where I work, what we spend our money on, how I spend my time.

I am a firm believer that boredness is an unwillingness to engage the world. How can one be bored when there is something to learn or read or try? I believe even stronger than comparison of our one life to many people's photographs or success can do worse than ruin an appetite. It can ruin a life.

People ask if Grace is always smiling. The answer is no.

But I record her joy most of the time because it brings me joy. She is my niche. She is an integral part of my vocation, and I want to continue to teach her joy, and to strive, and to be content with who she is.

Insecurity preys on the discontent. But you're the only You in the whole world. You're on a mission from God. Your worth is not how many assets you have, or where you've traveled, or the clothes you wear. Your character is determined by truthfulness, kindness, goodness, and prudence more than how many people "like" your posts or read your blog or call you on the phone.

We all fall into the trap of wondering, What if...? When we should be thinking, What's next? How am I going to be the best version of myself? Am I working towards Heaven or am I scrolling the internet at 2 a.m. mindlessly? Am I using my gifts? Am I developing my talents? Am I helping others? What can I do better for the glory of God?

And when I re-align my life to a purpose, I find that contentment: to be the best wife to Will; the most loving mother to Grace; a good and kind daughter, sister and friend; a lover of life and appreciator of struggles and triumphs.

Life is not easier as a married person - there are different trials. Your marital status does not change your mindset. If you want the joy of kids but dread the late nights, crying, crumbs and heart ache, you miss the opportunities to experience life. Life is purpose: life is worth loving. Did I like spending Will's day off cleaning the house? No. Heck no! But we did it together because an orderly, tidy house is worth seeking. 

Let us clean house internally - the cobwebs of old hurts, the wishing for a different life, the wondering if you missed your one chance (which you did not, because life is not so linear). We must see ourselves through and love ourselves. 

We must fly to God with our struggles, and fly through life without the boggles of over-worrying and over-emphasis on the things we cannot change. We must try to find happiness during hard days. We must laugh more, forgive more, and think less about what we want. We must pray more for others - we must decrease so that Christ will increase. We must read more Scripture and more literature. Cultivate love and friendship. Think less and less about what others think, and get to know yourself.

Be happy with who you are, wonderful you. Life is too meaningful to want to be anyone else. Write your own adventure.

Source

Darlings, we must fly!

Saint of Hungary and the Homeless

TBM Post #37: The Saints - Picking Them, Picking Us

I "picked" St. Elizabeth of Hungary as my Confirmation saint when I was 13. We were told to research saints, find one we liked, and write a five page paper on him or her. I'm still not sure why I picked her; maybe I liked that she was a princess, or the way she cared about people.

A very-very short bio:

St. Elizabeth of Hungary was born on July 7, 1207 to King Andrew II of Hungary and Gertrude of Merania. At age four, she was sent away to the court of Thuringia (in Germany) for her education, as she was already betrothed to their heir of that throne, Louis IV, whom she married at age 14 in 1221. They had a happy marriage and three children - alas, this was the time of the Crusades, and off Louis IV went, only to die of a fever in Italy.

Elizabeth, always giving and pious, decided the court life was not for her (as her in-laws were very against her charitable nature and actions), made accommodations for her children, and left the castle to serve the poor. Elizabeth used her dowry money to build a hospital. She had a difficult confessor who held her to impossible standards, and still she worked tirelessly for the sick and the homeless until her death in 1231, at age 24.

At age 25-going-on-26, my life span is already longer than hers. And yet, it cements further in my mind that St. Elizabeth of Hungary picked me, though it appears merely circumstantial. She is the patron saint of hospitals (married to a doctor), nurses (raised by one/ my mom), bakers (I try?), young brides (check!), countesses (?), dying children, exiles, homeless people*, lace-makers, widows and the Third Order of St. Francis.

*Homeless people are the reason I know St. Elizabeth of Hungary picked me.

Tokyo, Japan - June 2012: Homeless people living in cardboard boxes

I am drawn to homeless people. I feel empathy for them, and pity. I want to help them, and I've been faced with a very real way of helping them while living down here in New Orleans. They are very visible. They are on street corners and by the highway and downtown and uptown. They ask for help, any kind of help.

And we are strapped into our budget. We're living off savings, living off a grad school budget. We are not poor, especially considering our surroundings. I don't think Will or I really understand what true poverty is. But our belts our tight. We give our dollar or two at mass, even though "ten percent of our income is still zero," Will jokes. I obsessively go over our budget, as if money is going to appear somewhere. Diapers, wipes, baby butt cream and now teething gel. I want to buy Grace a Megaseat; I'm tempted to ask for it for my birthday in March. But that money is better spent on baby proofing the house...

Then again, people survive on a lot less. I'm working on my daydreams, trying to find the line between sprucing up the home and the reality of lack of basic necessities. Elizabeth brings me back to that.

We don't have a lot of money, and we've made the decision not to give money directly to people. Instead, I carry non-dairy protein drinks, meal replacement bars and nutri-grain bars, and vegetable+fruit squeezes in the car with me. Last week, I emptied a box full. Today, I gave out one. If we had more money, I would buy Subway gift cards and hand those out for delicious, healthy meals.

Source

The most important thing, however, is to look at the person in the face and smile. Homeless people are humans and need more positive human interaction. It is shaming that our society cannot take the time to look at another human being in the face, even if it's to wave and say hello.

I understand that safety is always a concern. I often have Grace in the car with me, and if I felt it was unsafe (i.e. I never open my window at night), I would not put our lives in danger. However, most people are simply pleading for acknowledgement.

Once we are settled in our next location, I'd like to start helping in a food kitchen. The homeless are truly on my heart. I pray for them daily. I've cried thinking about the homeless out in the cold up north. I cannot imagine it; I wonder where their families are, where their little platoon has gone, or why they have left.

If you are also interested in helping your fellow humans, and if you're worried about feeling uncomfortable, we're in the same boat. I've become even more introverted since college, and I'm blushing now just thinking about putting myself out there. I could make a total fool of myself. And, you know - I don't do that enough. Risk my pride. Risk being shown that I have more to give this world, and risk realizing that my potential for giving has only just begun.

So, for now, I start with rolling down my window and smiling and handing them food and saying, "God bless!" Thank you, St. Elizabeth of Hungary, for placing this desire deep in my heart, and modeling true charity and giving of self.

May we all follow in your path, in our own way.

**
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5 Years Time

Five years ago, I was a college junior contemplating moving to Belfast, Ireland to be a missionary.

Four years ago, I was a college senior looking into journalism and advertising jobs, stressing over finishing + defending my thesis + passing my oral comps (and my classes! and enjoying Kappa! and spending time with friends!).

Three years ago, I graduated college, landed my first job, quit my first job, moved home for my second job, and met my husband.

Two years ago, I traveled abroad {twice!}, became a nanny, and was silly happy over our engagement.

One year ago, we were back from our Arizona honeymoon.

Today, we're in my hometown from New Orleans and we're tickled pink over our baby. {who is still awake}

If I can share anything: trust in God, because he provides.

2013 was a stretching year: Will and I learned to be married; we learned to live with each other; we learned how to live without each other most of the week (for the first six months); we learned how to deal with disappointments together; we learned how to have fun without spending a lot of money; we learned how relationships and friendships change after marriage; we learned how to communicate better; we learned how to be a couple while being parents.



Here's to the next five years!

Do You Try Too?

From Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury (Douglas' best friend has just moved away): 

"Tom," said Douglas, "just promise me one thing, okay?"
"It's a promise. What?"
"You may be my brother and maybe I hate you sometimes, but stick around, all right?"
"You mean you'll let me follow you and the older guys when you go on hikes?"
"Well... sure... even that. What I mean is, don't go away, huh? Don't let any cars run over you or fall off a cliff."
"I should say not! Whatta you think I am, anyway?"

"'Cause if worst comes to worst, and both of us are real old - say
forty or forty-five some day - we can own a gold mine out West and sit
there smoking corn silk and growing beards."
"Growing beards! Boy!"
"Like I say, you stick around and don't let nothing happen."
"You can depend on me," said Tom.
"It's not you I worry about," said Douglas. "It's the way God runs the world."
Tom thought about this for a moment.
"He's all right, Doug," said Tom. "He tries."

The Idolatry of Perfect

When I was a nanny, I listened to a lot of Laurie Berkner, a fantastic children's song writer and singer. There is a song called "I'm Not Perfect" that I would sing along with the five year old, and the first stanza goes:

I'm not perfect, no I'm not
I'm not perfect
But I've got what I've got
I do my very best, I do my very best
I do my very best each day
But I'm not perfect
And I hope you like me that way.

Growing up, I really struggled with my imperfections: my stutter, my glasses, my introvert self that is shy of too much attention. As a result, I grew up feeling inadequate. I hid my imperfections and my struggles, thinking that if people knew, they wouldn't like me. I dreaded going to school - grade school is a land of active and passive bullies. Boys who teased the stutterer, girls who wouldn't want to be paired with you. Talking in class was my worst nightmare - the more pressure I felt, the worse I stuttered. I only had one teacher who would let me do my presentations in front of her, alone, and another teacher who encouraged me in my writing, never forcing me to read my work aloud. She did, though, and I would blush with pleasure.

I am lucky to have two wonderful parents who love me. Growing up, though, I was especially close to my father. My Dad was (is!) my #1 supporter - he is a real friend to me (I only had a few), he praises my good qualities, he always tells me the truth, he always listens.

He continually tells me to banish those feelings of inadequacy, and that the Devil is speaking in my ear when I think I am not worth it. He reminds me of my self-worth, that I am loved, that God made me exactly who I am for a reason and to want to be someone - or something else - is a slap in God's face. It is up to me (Dad says) to discover and spread God's love, and to use the talents God has given me for his greater glory, rather than focusing on the pebbles of my own smallishness.

I've grown so much since the days I stuttered every sentence, and cried after school, and retreated even more into myself because I was imperfect. And I am still imperfect, but those imperfections have led to virtues - I've learned to stick up for myself and others; I've learned to laugh at myself; I've learned that people who hurt others are hiding their own hurt; I've learned to be brave; I've learned that crying isn't weak; I've learned that even when I don't feel lovable, I am loved - and to say otherwise is a slap in God's face. I stare at a crucifix when I feel this way, and pray, and ask God to forgive me. Christ suffered death for me, and would suffer it again, just for me.

I still struggle with this today. I fixed cornbread two weeks ago and it turned out horribly - like freeze-dried astronaut food. Will came into the kitchen and tried it.

"No! It's horrible!" I protested.
"Yes," he laughed. "It really is!"
We laughed about it and then I said, "Ug, I'm a horrible wife."
"Why would you say that? Who says that?"
"Because I am! I can't even make corn bread."
"Is being a good wife contingent on making corn bread?"
"I'm just trying to make you happy!"
"You do! I am happy! You make me happy!"

The problem is always perception. We think we know what people want -- and if we give them what they want, maybe they'll hire us or be friends with us or they'll date us or even marry us. But it does not work that way. Sure, perhaps initially. But will it last? Is that perception reality?

For example, Will didn't even ask me to make corn bread. I made it because I know he likes it. Then I messed up - he didn't care. I cared. It felt like the oven had a vendetta against me. Or maybe I made a mistake mixing the ingredients. Either way, personal failure is something I am learning to laugh about as I continue to lessons in the kitchen. It was my first time fixing cornbread from scratch - my second time was much more edible, and I have higher hopes for the third.

When we focus on our short-comings, we lose sight of our blessings. When we covet what another has, be it their (perceived) happiness or their job or their life, we miss out on having our own adventures. Our story is individually written - no one repeats it, and no one's is perfect. Matthew 5:48 says, "You, therefore, must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect."

Is that perfect at fixing cornbread?
Is that being a perfect friend, student, worker or significant other?
Is that being a perfect Christian?

No. Perfection supersedes all of that. It is loving God above all. It is loving your neighbor as yourself - yes, the neighbor who cuts you off in busy traffic or makes fun of you or hurts your feelings. It is striving for Heaven with all of your faults. It is about changing our human perceptions. We worship ourselves when we lament our faults. We worship perfection, an ideal, when we cannot forgive ourselves for being sinners or less than what we desire. We cannot be perfect like God is we deny the gifts and challenges he has given us.

Does this mean it's time to stop trying? Of course not. But understand what your goals are - be kind to yourself. This fallen world is beautiful, you are beautiful. Beauty is not a magazine cover - beauty is goodness, a ready smile, a willingness to take advantage of this life and not waste the gifts, small as they may be.

Sometimes, I don't want to write posts because I haven't time to think them through. Like this one. I fought myself over writing it. I knew it wasn't going to be exactly how I wanted it to turn out, and it isn't. It isn't perfect. But does that mean I shouldn't write it? Should I stop blogging?

As seen in Boston - "To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield." 

The quest for perfection is usually the quest for happiness - if all is perfect, all is well. But this is not so - this is life! Messy, unorganized, full of mistakes and the ability to fix them. Happiness is a willingness to try, and be yourself, feelings and all. As the end of the Laurie Berkner song goes,

You're not perfect, no you're not.
You're not perfect
But you've got what you've got
You do your very best, you do your very best
You do your very best each day
But you're not perfect
And you know,
I love you that way.

**
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#7QT: Forget Multi-Tasking!

Friday? It's Friday? Again?! (Just kidding, it's Saturday now.) Hi-ya to Jen and Co.!

ONE

I was complaining at my more recent inability to multi-task well, and Laura sent me this:

Thanks for this wisdom, Laura!

Which ties in a bit to the next few...

TWO

Okay, Syria. This has been on my heart and mind so much. Today is the a day of prayer and fasting for peace in Syria. I can't fast, but Will and I are going to confession and mass today.

There have been interesting articles posted around, explaining the conflict in Syria, and it's just tragic. But Syria is not the only place in the world when horrible crimes are being committed against its citizens, and the hubris of our government to think that they have a moral obligation to "right the wrongs" abroad when our own country is crippled by our abortion rates, the sex trafficking happening right under our noses, the ridiculous war on drugs which sounds good but is causing more violence and crime, the callousness towards anyone attempting to live in a counter-cultural way and the want to conform our country to one standard (be it in education or mores) is truly disturbing.

Syria has not attacked us. Syria's peace crisis is not going to be solved by another country attacking them and then forcing them into a peace treaty. The devastation of war in the 20th century are multiple examples of that. In the peace treaties following WWI, the humiliation of Germany (an ally, not even an aggressor) was a direct contributor and catalyst to the renewal of pride in being German, the so many closed eyes to wrongs done by the National Socialist Party and its leaders, and the death of millions of innocent people across the European and Pacific theaters.

Hubris can be a greater evil if we allow pride to dictate our power over others.

THREE

The USCCB has written to the President and Congress, following Pope Francis' call for peace. I haven't yet, but I'll be writing too. Pro-life means valuing ALL LIVES. War is not the answer. The end does not beget the means.

Contact your Congressmen. Let's really start keeping people accountable.

FOUR

Okay, fluffy part now. I am in love with Shutterfly. Huggies gave me a "free book" for being a "new mommy" so I made a wedding book, because the offer expires on September 28, and the baby is due on September 24. No way I could make a baby book before then, and I reeeeally wanted to make a wedding book before the deluge of baby pictures come rolling in.

It came last night.

I texted this to my sister last night. 

I love it so much.

My favorite page with my sister's MOH speech.

She's fuuuuuunny.

They're having another general deal for the end of summer - one free 8x8 book with the code "SUMMERBOOK" - hop on it, y'all!

FIVE

I am a list girl. Before Baby arrives, I want to have my chore list established and my pantry list in working order, as well as our finances and passwords in one location so Will can contribute to the process. On a larger scale, I think this is going to be a big step for me in not micro-managing.

My current list!

Also, on a personal question level, does one ever get used to taking care of the majority of the housework, cleaning, errands?! Will helps out when I ask, but I have to be specific because I don't think he notices a majority of the messes I am obsessing over... Maybe that's why I fit this job description better.

{He can also memorize a ridiculous amount of information and comprehends it all - which I really only benefit from when I have a pregnancy woe or when we're watching a t.v. show and someone has the flu, and the doctor says they're running low on antibiotics, or something like that. Laugh laugh laugh - the flu is a virus! You can't cure it with an antibiotic!}

Another question: I know chores is a constant adaptation to one's surroundings, but how does you stick to your goals? I tend to get side-tracked by other jobs (which perhaps ties into the first part - struggling with multi-tasking!)...

SIX

One perk of an OB's office are all the adorable baby announcements one gets to look at while waiting for the doctor to come in the room. Since my baby is due in 17 days, I've been thinking more seriously on this. I also don't want to wait to see if it's going to be a boy or girl when deciding... I've been thinking of a New Orleans onesie!

I found this one at a local store, Fleurty Girl:

Thoughts? I'll probably keep looking around, and buy one by next weekend.

SEVEN

Fun links:

• Performing Shakespeare’s plays with their original English accent - um, very cool.
• 10 Things I Love About Flannery O’Connor - hearts, glitter and puffy paint galore! Me too, Haley.
• Cormac McCarthy's words matched with music at Literary JukeBox - a side project of BrainPickings; love.

Happy weekend!

Bravery and Babes

I've never felt very brave. I was picked on a lot growing up because I was shy, and I stuttered, and wore glasses. And even after the stuttering was "fixed", I had a hard time not allowing my feelings to be swayed or hurt by other people. This feeling has lasted for many years, although I grew much better at masking it. In the meanwhile, I developed as a writer.

I joined the high school paper, Lion's Roar, my freshman year, as an outlet for writing. It was so fun seeing my name in print and contacting people, asking them what they thought, collecting the facts, writing up a story. I remember when I was named Sports Editor, one of two juniors who got a spot usually reserved for a senior. I was so proud of my little section, which I grew from three writers to six. Our space grew too - a whole page!

I had the glued-to-my-phone pre-req. down

I went to college and decided I didn't want to do journalism any more, so I didn't sign up for the college paper. But then, I got drawn into the independent paper, and spent my entire college career editing, writing, promoting and nurturing it. The tiny staff again grew under me, as I pulled in every resource I could, helping my writers and making them feel wanted as much as they were needed. I hurt a lot of feelings with my edits and editorials and "Hillsdalians of Genius" columns, but I didn't stroke any egos, and I told the truth, and people respected the paper. I even got along well with the journalism department, and got a scholarship to write book reviews for it my senior year.

It seemed the obvious answer, then, when asked what I was going to do after college: journalism.

Statehouse reporting was thrilling, but my work environment was not. I worked for a non-profit, who accepted a grant to fund two journalism positions. Though I was successful, my articles were well-received and picked up by outside outlets, it was a difficult work environment for me, and for personal-affecting-professionalism reasons, I quit.

That was one of the scariest things I had ever done, and it changed my whole life. I had accepted that job because it was great cub reporter experience and I was two hours from home. But now I had quit, and I was thinking about the other job I turned down in Washington, D.C. Was that the better choice?

I decided not to pursue journalism when I returned home, which my journalism mentor severely disagreed with; he told me not to waste my talent. Since then, it's been an interesting ride: family business, nannying, freelance, and plenty more "not-for-profit" writing -- as well as more family time, a new family, marriage, a new city, a baby, and a whole new set of challenges. And I'm happy, even though a part of me twinges to be back in journalism.

And what does this have to do with bravery? I still don't think of myself as particularly brave. I'm still introverted and still have glasses. But I've tasted "failure" - I know what it's like not to have what you want. I know what it's like to think you know what you want. I've known surprise, and I've known success. I know what it feels like to stand at the crossroads, and make another decision you know is going to change your life. Then another. Then another. I keep pressing forward. That's brave. That's living.

We all live with the consequences, whether our action by active or passive. And can you live with regrets? Sure. That's one way to live, but it's not a preferable way - because regret stains all future successes if you allow it. Or you can learn from your mistakes, which is my attitude: I have only one real regret, and that was letting people lead me to think I wasn't worth it: as a friend, as a girlfriend, as a student, as a writer. That is a lie, no matter who you are. We all have potential. We're all on a road to Damascus. None of us have completed the work we were put on this earth to do; most of us are still discerning what that work is, exactly. We should keep working, keep seeking, keep trying, keep loving, keep going.

In Jennifer Aist's book Babes in the Woods: Hiking, Camping & Boating with Babies and Young Children (my current read), she tells parents back off a bit and to let their kids explore (while still under supervision, of course!):

Watch an eight-month-old baby crawl around a coffee table. If left to explore it on his own, he'll run into it a few times, bonk his head on the bottom of it as he tries to crawl under it, and maybe even get a bit frustrated by it. Very quickly, this same baby will learn to duck going around that coffee table, slow down to avoid crashing into it, and generally learn how to be safe around it. The baby with "hover parents" never has an opportunity to learn by trial and error. So though this baby may never bonk his head on the coffee table at home, he also never develops the skills to avoid bonking his head on any other coffee table. Teach children the skills they need to safely negotiate any coffee table they may ever encounter, and you have given your children an incredible gift. You will have taught your child to be capable. 

Remember, frustration teaches children problem solving. Boredom teaches children creativity.

This is the same for adults as well. Be brave enough not to squander the chances in life to try, to "fail", to be who you want to be. You are exactly who you're supposed to be, and that is a true gift to the rest of us.

Regret-less Sex

Originally published at The Mirror Magazine (July 8, 2013)

Life isn't always what you expect, and this post I'm writing was not my initially chosen topic. Instead, I'm writing in response to a few articles I read today, and a conversation I had with one of my husband's classmates.

Today is Will's first day of school for his Master's program, and there was an open reception which I invited myself to as his special guest. Nothing fancy: his classmates, the program directors and corresponding staff, and me, the pregnant lady in the striped dress. The girl next to me and I struck up a conversation, gaining speed as we realized she grew up about 45 minutes from where my husband went to college. We talked about our shared faith, her boyfriend, my pregnancy, where we came from and why we moved to New Orleans.

"Sorry if this is too forward," she said suddenly, "But do you use Natural Family Planning?"

"We do," I said.

"Was the pregnancy planned?" she asked.

"Yes," I said as my husband said "No."

I smiled, and explained that we conceived on my P3 day, which is the third day past my Peak Day and the last day of my fertile time. We knew we could get pregnant if we had sex, and rolled the dice. We got pregnant. Will says "no" because we had originally planned on waiting to try for a mini-us till the fall, but we also had sex knowing we could become pregnant.

She smiled and nodded, and the conversation went on. It wasn't awkward, as the over-details I shared above may seem. I share those details because I need people to know: creation is no mistake.

The babble I hear surrounding sex is dehumanizing. Another couple broken up over infidelity. Pornography distorting love between people. Abortion on demand, with no apologies. Support contraceptives because then abortions will be reduced. Unrealistic sex-pectations, less romance and true love. And, more recently, a friend's testimony about how being raised Catholic made sex (especially pre-marital sex) a source of fear, shame and guilt.

In all of this, I think of my husband, I think of my baby, and I think of the dignity my faith gives me as a woman.

Drawn by Bill Donaghy

My husband Will and I married each other with the understanding that we will always be married. We married without having sex beforehand, and we married with the expectation of growing our family size from two to many in its formative years. We married in the Catholic Church, of which we are active members. We have different spiritual lives, but the same faith. Before we married, we prepared our bodies for marriage by first preparing our hearts and minds. We talked about everything! We agreed, disagreed, reasoned, compromised, and worked together, hand in hand, in the making of "us". Without us, together, there can be no children.

As a couple, we practiced a lot of self-control while we were dating and engaged. Those biological wants, needs and desires are not reserved for the non-believers: they are human wants, needs, and desires. But a person doesn't lose weight by eating chocolate cake and then throwing it up anymore than a person can have consequence-less sex - there are always emotional ties if not physically bonding ones. And more often than not, the "consequence" is a tiny human being, whose life should not be terminated "with no apologies".

Greg Pfundstein writes at The Corner,

President Johnson’s fruitless War on Poverty kicked off the nation’s misguided birth-control crusade with grants for “family planning” in 1965. The effort was redoubled in 1970 when, thanks to the efforts of John D. Rockefeller III and George H. W. Bush, Title X of the Public Health Service Act was signed into law by Richard Nixon the day after Christmas. Since 1970, the out-of-wedlock birthrate has tripled to 41 percent. With the help of the Supreme Court with its 1973 Roe v. Wade decision, we have also seen the number of abortions spike through the 1980s and reach an equilibrium today at between 1.2 and 1.3 million annually. Both results are at least unexpected from the perspective of a public policy based on the premise that access to contraception will decrease the rate of unintended pregnancies.

The family planning my husband and I do is scientific and based on my body's natural signs. Just as I prefer eating organic and hormone-free food, I am not inclined to put hormonal birth control pills into my body when I am only fertile 5-6 days a month (or 60-72 days out of 365 - below 20% of my year).

Moreover, the reason couples who practice NFP have a 2-5% divorce rate is not because the pool of participants is so small - it is because of the constant communication the couple has about their sex life. And after you've talked about mucus with your loved one, there really isn't anything a person can't discuss openly. Communication is the bedrock of relationships, of love, and essential in decision-making.

Sex is empowering because I have my husband's total love, trust and faithfulness. I find sex beautiful, amazing and dignity-enhancing, and I am sorry when people's experiences with the Church's teachings on sexuality are negative and guilt-ridden. But their experiences do not negate the true beauty of the Church's teachings, especially Theology of the Body. I know that I opposed sex before marriage when I was younger because I knew people who had been pressured into it, and that scared me. I did not want to be pressured - I wanted to have it freely. I opposed it when I was older when I saw how friends reacted when their boyfriends treated them, used them, dumped them. Will and I talked about what would happen if we had sex before marriage, and agreed: it would be great, but we would regret it. It would feel great, but it would not be as great as having the sacramental all-access pass to the whole person.

There are no regrets in my marriage when we have sex. There are no regrets that I am pregnant so soon after marriage. There are no regrets in sharing all of this, because I want people to know. Sex does not have to be split between the "good" and the "bad", but rather the "true love" and the "love-ish." The -ish means, "I love you but": but not your fertility, but not your baggage, but not your hips, but not all of you. True love means, I love all of you; I will cherish you when I am angry, I will appreciate you when you annoy me, I will trust you above all others, and protect your heart in mine.

It's okay to be scared of pregnancy - Mary was frightened by the angel came to her. She was going to be a seen as having a child out-of-wedlock, and her engagement was almost broken off. She was being given a huge responsibility, a child, the child of God. That wasn't an easy "yes" she said.

NFP isn't easy. Self-control isn't easy. Marriage isn't easy. But they're all worth it. True love is worth it. Protecting the dignity and lives of other human beings is worth it. Supporting mothers is worth it. Honoring fathers is worth it.

And when my baby kicks me in the middle of the night, I know it -- the baby, my marriage, full-of-consequence sex -- is worth it.

New Year, New Name

Happy 2013, readers! I spent most of December 31, 2012 in four airports/ on a plane/ watching Muppet Treasure Island and The Hunger Games (God bless laptops and airports/planes with outlets!)/ writing/ trying not to annoy B. with my inability to decide what I wanted to eat. We got home super late, and I collapsed until quite late into January 1. It is certainly delightful to begin 2013 well-rested!

I am pleased as punch to finally let you know what my significant other's "B" stands for: Baldwin!

Our marriage ceremony

I'll still be referring to my dear husband as B. because he's the best! I'll also be publishing as J.R. Baldwin from here on (except on the blog- still Julie to y'all!). My twitter handle remains the same; updating Pintrest (how fancy!).

I am not sure how I feel about new years resolutions. On one hand, they are a great time to be introspective about things I'd like to change or do. I've never been exceptionally keen on having new years resolutions (I completed half of these), but after reading Hannah's list (who published my I Am Thankful For post!) and Leah's link-up, I decided to indulge.

I resolve to read the daily Mass readings and say a prayer of Spiritual Communion each day, especially if I am unable to attend daily Mass. Life is too short, and too busy- but I can never be too busy for God. I read my Magnificat, and still I need to trouble myself to be more diligent to God's word. This world is so beautiful, and yet my soul has yet to be properly prepared for the splendors of Heaven!

Bonus point: Daily mass! Morning prayer too!

Us on top of a mountain we climbed!

I resolve to have a happy heart and willing spirit to exercise. My husband is very excited about exercising together, and I should be open to the company! I've tried spinning, pilates and now yoga and I can report that it is more pride than lack of athleticism holding me back. Nike's right: I need to JUST DO IT!!

Bonus point: Make a schedule and stick to it! Drink more water and sleep at least 7-8 hours too.

I resolve to pray for vocations. So many of my dear brothers and sisters in Christ are single or searching for what the Lord has in store for them; let me assist and remember what it feels like to wander!

Bonus point: Write more posts on vocations as relationships editor of Ignitum Today.

I resolve to publish more. Severe time constraints (and pride) in 2012 kept me from updating this blog and meeting proper deadlines, and I am absolutely resolved in 2013 to hop back on the properly publishing train! I've written a lot, but published 20-30% of it (maybe). It's time to release more Julie Thoughts and Prose.

Bonus point: Blog more. It makes me happy, it makes dear readers happy: win-win!

I resolve to organize, purge, and be prudent. I have a lot of papers. I have a lot of memories. I have a huge to-scrapbook-and-create-adorableness box, and, at some point, I will have to face it. Especially since B. and I may move (again) in 6 months for his work. I also need to organize personal papers and finances to accommodate for my change in marital status.

Bonus Point: Get pictures into photo-books!

And, finally:

I resolve to seek beauty, love, hope and truth first. As Victor Hugo saith, "To love another person is to see the face of God."

I love him!

Any resolutions for 2013, dear readers?

Let's Give Chivalry Another Chance

As seen at The Atlantic:

Chivalry is about respect. It is about not harming or hurting others, especially those who are more vulnerable than you. It is about putting other people first and serving others often in a heroic or courageous manner. It is about being polite and courteous. In other words, chivalry in the age of post-feminism is another name we give to civility. When we give up on civility, understood in this way, we can never have relationships that are as meaningful as they could be. 

If women today—feminists and non-feminists alike—encouraged both men and women to adopt the principles of civil and chivalrous conduct, then the standards of behavior for the two sexes would be the same, fostering the equality that feminists desire. Moreover, the relations between the sexes would be once again based on mutual respect, as the traditionalists want. Men and women may end up being civil and well-mannered in different ways, but at least they would be civil and well-mannered, an improvement on the current situation.

Read more here!

Oh, and here's one more gem: "There's No Perfect Time to Start Having Kids"

TIC: Iron Ladies

Over at The Imaginative Conservative, folks! I'm talking Margaret Thatcher, birth control and the election, and a little r-e-s-p-e-c-t.

(It got picked up by New Advent too. I guess you should read it now.)

And These Thy Gifts

Earlier this week, I spoke with a financial planner with no real idea of why I was meeting with him. I had a couple hunches, though, to why my friend recommended me to him:

1) I'm getting married;
2) my betrothed is still in school;
3) I will be the only bread winner for the first half of our first year;
4) Our finances and budgeting are going to have to adjust over marriage, moving and any other life changing events that start to come our way.

Where does one even begin??

Fortunately, it begins now, and it begins with honesty.

Look at your finances. Even if you feel crunched under the amount of debt in your life, it isn't unconquerable. In the short term, perhaps, but not in the long, if you are willing to cut down and save.

More importantly, however, finances are more than just a save-here, spend-there mentality. Finances correlate to faith, and not in the Prosperity = God Loves You kind of way. Rather, it begins with an acknowledgement that we owe everything to God. Not our rent check, but our lives, and one way we can show gratitude for the gifts he has shared with us is to give back to the Church. This is called tithing.

Tithing

The recommended amount one tithes is 10 percent of your income. How you tithe, however, is up to you. For instance, most of my tithing goes into supporting Catholic organizations. I help sponsor my friend Gina in FOCUS (since they have to raise their own salary) and give to the Dominican sisters of Mary, Mother of the Eucharist in Ann Arbor. I also give directly to the Church.

10 percent is actually quite a small chunk of change in one's budget, especially since we're playing the honesty card and realize that one's finances tend to be spent more at Amazon.com or the coffee shop than such a good cause of supporting our Church.

If money is quite tight, another way to give to the Church is through one's time and volunteering at Catholic charities or within programs, like RCIA, being a Eucharistic minister, teaching little children, visiting the elderly and infirm, or even helping with the rectory's upkeep!

The point of tithing is not just offering up a sacrifice; it is combined with the genuine intention of giving thanks. When Mary and Joseph went to give an offering at the temple when Jesus was born, they gave a pair of doves. That was a very humble offering in comparison of what they could have made, but it was a noble one in the eyes of God.

Savings and Debt

The best advice I've heard of this subject came from my aforementioned friend (the one who recommended me to see the financial planner, and works for a big finance company himself). He told me to just cut out the amount you want to save and need to pay right from my budget and pretend it's not there to spend.

This should happen every month to make it into a habit. I repeat: every single month, put those dolla-dolla bills into savings!

Savings does not need to happen in large chunks. Remember piggy banks? Never a bad mentality. Collect your loose coins and dollars and tuck them away for later. The excitement of finding $20 in your pocket will be nothing compared with the realization that you have hundreds of dollars in loose change!

So, to reiterate: X - Y = Z

I made X amount, subtract Y (monthly savings + monthly debt payment) and Z is what I have left over. This equation can (and will!) be made more complicated with more and varied payments, like car payments or rent or food. This means we should talk budget.

Budget

I've made a lot of these. They never seem to pan out the way I mean them too, but either way, they are an absolute necessity. A budget is a plan and a guide. Your savings and checking accounts are part of that budget. Your debt is part of that budget. Your semi-annual car payments and oil changes every 3,000 miles are part of the budget.

Budgets say, You can't plan for everything but you can try, and maybe take the edge off when things cost more. This in an invaluable and essential part of having financial savvy. Those numbers don't lie either: find out how much you're really making (after taxes), how much you're spending, and what's left.

Money Matters

You don't have to be making the big bucks to make smart money decisions, nor do you need to go to a financial planner (although it's not a bad idea - and not an expensive one, either!). You absolutely do, however, need to be honest with yourself.

In the film Yours, Mine and Ours, Lucille Ball has 8 kids and Henry Fonda has 10 kids. Then they get married. (That's right, 18 kids.) One of my favorite scenes from the movie is when they are at the grocery store, piling up food into carts and pulling them behind them while discussing each of them adopting the other's children. They didn't have the money and so Fonda made the symbolic and literal sacrifice of putting his beer back as a way to save money.

My parents and their greatest assets!

(Seriously, where have all the good movies gone?!)

Money can be a good thing, although it is not a good unto itself. Money is for spending - but how you decide to do so is what makes a personal financially responsible and secure, not the size of your income. People all across the wealth spectrum are making great and crummy money decisions. You don't want to pay for health services but you want a new pair of shoes and the latest album? Priorities are all askew, yet finances need to be one of them - especially in this age of financial uncertainty.

In tithing, we give back to God, from whom all blessings flow. In savings, we prepare for sun and stormy times ahead. In paying off debt, we honor another's trust. There may be a system (how to pay, when to pay, who pays), but to have any of the above is a gift. Personal financial responsibility helps society just as much as giving unto other can do.

How do you make financial decisions?