Why we need Saints.

It has been an exceptionally crappy fall for me. My last post highlighted the death of my friend, a few weeks after that, my husband lost his job and at the end of October, my mother very suddenly died. Crappy is the only word for it. It has been hard emotionally and in all honestly, financially.All of this has made family life, especially my marriage very trying. It has led me to really question more than I have in years every aspect of my personal faith.

I have not run and turned heathen, but, my prayer is dry, my soul is even drier, and my sense of hope is long lost in a desert. Today seems especially dark and dreary to me. So many things are not as I would have them, our home is not prepared for the birth of our Lord, I am overwhelmed with my jobs that help us get by and I am lonely. It feels like so many of my friends has left or simply are too busy, which I get.

But, in this darkness, there is a beam of light. It was announced Bl. Kateri will be St. Kateri very soon. Why does this matter to the whiny suburban mom? Simply because she has been my “go to” girl for years. Her family didn’t understand her, neither does mine, she was not beautiful, I hate the way I look, she was often alone, see above. But, instead of sitting in the dark with a cup of coffee, she glorified God and offered him her pain. Yep, I need to stop whining and crying, okay, that may be harder, but I need to Glorify God, no matter what. No matter how much it hurts to have not said “Goodbye” or “I’m sorry” or “I love you” to my mom. No matter how much I hate leaving my kids, neglecting our homeschooling to go to jobs that are disgusting. No matter how frustrating it is that my husband is not my provider or protector right now. I need to Glorify God, I need to give him these things, and let him keep them. I need to ask Kateri to help me, to show me how she did it, and then, I need to give thanks.

Simple Joys and Immense Sorrows

This weekend I lost a friend in the most horrific way, suicide. I had known her since I was 16, I met her the day I met my husband and Br. Maximilan, one of our best friends. We were on a retreat, and she, Br. Max, and my husband were the only 3 people to talk to me. I was shy, had just gotten over the Chicken Pox, and in the past year had suffered a great tragedy. I was depressed, and they gave me hope. That is why it is breaking my heart to think that no one could give her that hope to continue on the journey.

We had many good times, she left to join a cultish religious group when we were on college and we were not allowed to communicate. When she came home, I picked her up at the airport, but she was not the same. Life moves quickly, she married and moved to the other side of the country. We lost touch. I regret this so much right now, more than so many regrets that I have in life.

Thanks to the internet, and facebook, we connected. It was like old times, virtually. We communicated privately online, but that is a terrible way to be a friend. I could not read her sorrow in email, I could not see her tears in chat, and I could not give her any hope.

Last month, we met in person, I think now that she loved my husband and I enough to say good-bye to us in person. That makes things so much worse, to tell the truth, why didn’t we hold her forever, why didn’t we tell her to move back to Chicago, why didn’t we give her hope. I told her things that she didn’t know, painful things. When she got back to California, she attempted suicide for the first time. Did we push her over the edge?

Her husband is a good man, he tried to protect her, but she left one Sunday morning and never returned. She was found in the bottom of a canyon a week later. How can someone leave their 3 little children? How can you lose hope to the point that even your babies are meaningless? I will never understand. I have been at the point she was in the past, about every 6 years I fight a battle with depression, but my children, my husband and my God are enough to give me the glimmer I need. How can there be no glimmer?

I’ve been praying the Psalms a lot, and one thing strikes me again and again, Praise for rescue. I Praise Him for saving me, rescuing me, but I also ask, why not her? What makes her plight different? I know her sorrows were worse, her past was darker, but why didn’t he rescue her, why did she slip into decay? There are just so many things I do not understand, but I trust  in the goodness and mercy of He who rescues me.

I Have Confidence in, Oh, Wait, No I Don’t

I can admit to having absolutely no faith in my ability to do anything. Truly, it is a nothing short of a miracle that I accomplish anything. Take this moment for example, I’m supposed to be writing an essay that will complete my doula training. And, what am I doing, drinking coffee, listening to sappy music and writing on my mostly ignored blog. Why? because I cannot articulate the 1000 words that I need to to get the darned thing done.

I’ve been working on this for months, all I need to do is put 1000 words down on paper, 1000 words that meet pretty strict guidelines, that are supposed to sound like I know what I am talking about. But, as usual, I know in my head what is true, but I cannot express it, because I’m not sure I provide the services that I am describing.

It doesn’t matter how many people tell me I am doing fine, or that they think I am good at what I am doing, I don’t think that, and therefore I cannot attempt to promote myself. I lack confidence.

My daughter on the other hand is a big ball of self-belief. How it is even possible for me to have offspring with so much confidence is beyond me. She is faced with some pretty serious auditions in the next few days, and is handling it all with amazing grace, believing that she is the best. She may not be the best, but her ability to believe that she is often makes up for her lack of a small skill. How did I raise this child? How did she get to be so self assured? I think it may have something to do with my belief in her, her father’s belief in her. We think and know she is great at the things she does and are honest with her, in loving ways, when she is not. I never had that.

We all just want to be loved.

It is just human nature to be desire to be liked. I’m totally guilty of this, I want people to like me. I want them to want to be around me, I want them to want to do things with me. Essentially though, I am still the sixth grade girl hiding in the corner of the gym at a dance because she knows there are people who do not like her.

I’ve run into a few people in life lately who for whatever reason, have made it clear, they do not care for me. Most of them I do not know well. Not nearly well enough I feel for this judgment to have been made. It has caused me to have to soul search, do I have such a strong personality that I send people running the other direction as soon as they meet me? Or worse, have I offended these people in the few moments I have been around them?

Okay, here comes the grown-up, why do I care? Seriously, I left the 6th grade any my Jr. High ways a loooong time ago, like when I left Jr. High long time ago. But still, I care. These people are not the kind that will be my close friends, not matter what they think about me, or time together is so limited. But as our circles intertwine, I want them to have a positive view of me. Again, why do I care. I care because I carry the light of Christ.  It is a burden and a blessing.

I have to project it in a beautiful way, if I am not, that is when it becomes a burden. In my life right now, it is a heavy, large light, something not always easy to carry. My faith is not as strong as it used to be, or needs to be, and I know I’m not reflecting the light well. I worry that my portrayal of the light is distorted and not clear. That could easily put people off. My love is not glowing, my heart is not light, and that, my dear readers, is off putting to me, I can only imagine how it is to others.

All right, I’m back.

The voices in my little red head are getting too loud, so it is time to blog again. Nothing special is going on, the kiddies did a play. I agree to these things to enrich their lives, and forget they kill mine.

I am now officially a doula in training, with a pending certification, anyone wanna give birth with me there, that is seriously all I need. I’m begging the hubby for new floors, and in the process doing all I can to make the currently floor look bad ie vacuuming as little as possible. But being that Chicago weather is as logical as its politics, we had a freeze/ warm up/ freeze pattern, so now we have ants. Good times. So instead of dealing with the little critters, I’m here and the kids are making cookies. That’s how we roll. Dang, there is one on my foot, now where is that vacuum?