I hesitate to do this but...

This is me at 19 weeks with our newest little one... This pic is for all those friends I haven't seen in a VERY long time! Also, it's to document my "roundness" so as not to forget (how could I!) This is truly me - the italian-nosed, cheesy smilin' mom with her fifth "bump" shown proudly!

Treasure In Clay

Just started Bishop Fulton J. Sheen's autobiography - Treasure In Clay. Only got as far as page 2 before I had to stop and share the awesome ability of this man to describe things in a way that cut straight through to the heart. He starts by explaining that his autobiography is not his own...his explanation of his life's story in paragraphs five and six is one of the most beautiful things I've ever read...

That autobiography is the crucifix - the inside story of my life not in the way it walks the stage of time, but how it was recorded, taped and written in the Book of Life. It is not the autobiography that I tell you, but the autobiography I read to myself. In the crown of thorns, I see my pride, my grasping for earthly toys in the pierced Hands, my flight from shepherding care in the pierced Feet, my wasted love in the wounded Heart, and my prurient desires in the flesh hanging from Him like purple rags. Almost every time I turn a page of that book, my heart weeps at what eros has done to agape, what the "I" has done to the "Thou," what the professed friend has done to the Beloved.

But there have been moments in that autobiography when my heart leaped with joy at being invited to His Last Supper; when I grieved when one of my own left His side to blister His lips with a kiss; when I tried falteringly to help carry His gibbet to the Hill of the Skull; when I moved a few steps closer to Mary to help draw the thrust sword from her heart; when I hoped to be now and then in life a disciple like the disciple called "Beloved"; when I rejoiced at bringing other Magdalenes to the Cross to become the love we fall just short of in all love; when I tried to emulate the centurion and press cold water to thirsty lips; when, like Peter, I ran to an empty tomb and then, at a seashore, had my heart broken a thousand times as He kept asking over and over again in my life: "Do you love Me?" These are the more edifying moments of the autobiography which can be written as a kind of second and less authentic edition than the real autobiography written two thousand years ago.

I truly love Bishop Fulton Sheen. I feel closer to him than I do many people I have contact with here on earth. I feel similarly about John Paul II who I call Karol in my private prayers... These men know me, I believe, and I constantly ask them for their help in my life. I miss both of them terribly - which I know probably makes no sense at all to most people considering I'd never met either one of them! But that's how it is for me...I have begun to develope a real relationship with these saints (and others) who help me to grow in my love for Jesus. I give all the credit in the world to the Blessed Mother first of all and then to the saints for helping me to see Jesus as a real part of my life. I used to see Him as a wonderful God who loved me from a distance, and I, Him, from a distance. Now, I see Him as "my Jesus". He is totally mine and I am totally His. Thank you Mother, Karol, Bishop, Therese...thank you all...

Duty vs Love

Had a major meltdown yesterday. Homeschooling the girls while chasing around Monica and cleaning up after "the mess maker" (otherwise known as "the mischief maker") is a truly thankless job. Most of the time I am easily sustained by a little pair of arms around my neck or an unusually insightful comment from one of my "big girls". But, yesterday there was no stopping it. I had to have a pity party for myself and gosh darn it everybody better darn well attend!

The day ended in an ugly exchange between friends and a tearful woman driving around with a rosary in her hand going no where at all. It occurred to this woman that often the cause of her "burn out" is due to the fact that she does everything with all her heart. She suffers from an overabundance of passion as it were. All this pouring out and pouring out and pouring out can lead to a real need for a "fill up".

Seeking a "fill up" she naturally goes to hubby and demands an immediate and extensive ego boost for all her "beyond the call of duty" accomplishments. Can't anyone understand how self-emptying it is to have 4 little ones, school 2 of them and be pregnant with the 5th? My heart listens to stories without a point, my heart wrestles with "am I teaching well?" - "am I failing my kids?" My heart rages from bruised heads and bad words between brother and sisters. My heart breaks as I wipe up the kitchen floor for the 5th time in an hour. My heart longs for something more as I do the mind numbing tasks of an ordinary housewife - darks, lights, fold, sort, put away...All this done out of love. Love of Tim, love of the kids, and most importantly love of God. But, I had had enough giving and thought it 'bout time to receive...

Duty. That's what's expected of you. That's just what moms do. That was my "fill up". Not quite what I was aiming for. But that's his perspective. That's how he does what he does. And so it occurred to that woman driving going no where that that's the crux of it. Duty vs. Love. Duty is practical, persistent, reliable, trustworthy. Love is passionate, painful, raw, total. Both are good things, good motivators. They force us to get the job done. But it seems to me (That woman) that women generally are motivated by love in all things big and small. From lacing up a pair of shoes, to finding a "favorite" cup, to teaching math and science, to carrying around another little person inside your body, it's all about love. For men, they feel a sense of duty. Duty to work, duty to provide, duty to discipline, duty to protect, duties which need to be honored and done well, to the best of their ability. Now, he feels a sense of duty because he loves his family but each individual act is not filled up with himself. He's not really "pouring his heart" into that shelving system in the garage. He's not really putting all his love into every paycheck and every bill paid. Yes, he does it OUT of love but that's totally different, and not nearly as DRAINING as doing it WITH love in all things great and small.


So, where does that leave me post meltdown? On empty. But not hopeless. If the source of my sorrow is a draining of love than what better solution than to go directly to the source? God is my "fill up". He knows just what I need. I need to be filled with His love so that I can better do His work. The work of a woman is truly to be God's hands and feet. I should therefore not be filled with self-pity and searching for an ego boost. Rather, I should feel glad that He has found me worthy of this womanhood He has called me to. As for my hubby, being a man I guess I seem a strange species to him at times. My meltdowns are a total mystery to him - as it should be I suppose... I will always go to him for everything I need as a woman, and a wife, and a mother, and he will provide it to the best of his ability. But, I have learned that I must go to Him for everything I need as a SOUL, and only He can provide that!