New Five Favorite Things

Hallie's all wrapped up with her very excellent new favorite thing, so maybe she won't notice the two months between my first and second Five Faves posts. I'm a little sporadic about posting and joining. I know you know. But in this case it's because I find it difficult to find things I'm enthusiastic enough about to call "favorites." I guess I'm just good at that "detachment from worldly goods" thing. Yeah. That's what it means.

But I think I have some good ones here. In fact, it's all the more reason to share my little treasures now that I'm finally getting with it—who knows when she will need them! (See my #1.) So here goes.

#1

We're going to start with chocolate.

My most recent love is this gorgeous, delectable find: these chocolate-covered açai-blueberries. Something Jason found. (He always finds the best goodies and brings them home to me.) I've had chocolate-covered blueberries before but the addition of açai is a novelty. I don't really know if it made a difference in the taste for me. All I know is it was hard to make them last longer than a day.

#2

I just bought this panel (actually, it's twice what the image shows) of fabric blocks of Our Lady of Guadalupe on Etsy. I have high hopes for a project I'm dreaming up—simple enough for you real crafters and sewists out there (by the way, is that the term you prefer?) but for a non-finisher like me, it's ambitious. Still, I was happy when it came in the mail. If I ever do make it, I'll show you.

#3

Bolthouse makes the most delicious mango lemonade. But it's never available on sale the way some of their other products are in my grocery stores. And then it's gone so fast.

So I came up with the idea to mix my own.

Just pour them together in a pitcher. So delicious.

I also will sometimes mix some lemonade using 6 parts water, 1 part lemon juice, and 1 part sugar, and just throw in some of the mango drink. I may even graduate one day to mango puree. But right now that 2ish cups of Bolthouse's Amazing Mango is key; and using the two bottles together gives me a more consistently pleasing balance. 

#4

This would be a favorite if I had it. Remember my last Five Favorites when I said I wanted a honey jar?   I love to have butter at room temperature, just ready to be spread over homemade bread or fresh, warm banana muffins. But I don't really want it sitting out open on a plate (or more likely, just sitting in its wrapper) cluttering up the counter. It would be lovely to find a pretty, covered butter dish in glass or ceramic for the table. And if I had that and the honey jar, I would likely be inspired very often to make some delicious honey butter...

#5 

I'm just going to give a shout-out to the track Night Prayer on this Martin Doman album, Praying Twice Vol. II. (You can hear a preview at the link.) It is part of a sung night prayer I prayed sometimes at college, based on the Liturgy of the Hours. I bought the track on iTunes a while ago and introduced it to my kids at bedtime. Now they frequently ask for it; I'll play it softly on repeat and they go to sleep listening to it.



Today's Five Favorites link-up is at Camp Patton today. Go check everybody out!

May Procession

Cora helps decorate our Mary statue. She really needs her own garden!

May is Mary's month, and one of the sweetest memories I have of celebrating it is my elementary school's May procession. The First Communicants would dress in their suits and white dresses, and the whole school and their families, and the members of the church, would fill the school parking lot, carrying their rosaries. The Irish sisters of our school would lead the congregation in a rosary over a loudspeaker, as we slowly walked a path from the school to the church. At the head of this joyful but stately parade was a great statue of Mary on a platform-like altar, carried (by the Knights of Columbus, I think) above the shoulders of the crowd and decked thick with live flowers of all kinds, so that Mary seemed to travel with us on a cloud of blossoms. Behind her were two children, one chosen to carry her crown and one to crown her. At the end of it we sang Marian hymns and the crown was placed on the statue's head.

Our current parish has had a May procession for several years but I have never been able to attend it myself. Last year I decided that if I couldn't attend our church's procession, we would do our own at home. I highly recommend that if you belong to a parish that practices this delightful piety, participate in it! For that matter, there's no reason you can't do both. 

Here are my notes for what you need.

1. A statue of Mary. Ours is an outdoor statue made of concrete, but a small one in the house will be fine. Use what you have and make it work for you. Make a litter out of a serving tray or a baking sheet, or pull it in a wagon like a parade float. You can even use a framed picture if you don't have a statue, and make a garland or swag to drape around it in lieu of...

2. A crown that fits the statue. I like flower crowns. The American Girls Handy Book has some instructions for making flower crowns, and anything viney can be wound ino a wreath and studded with blooms. You can cut and tie them from your rose garden, make a tiny wreath of dandelions or wildflowers, or glue or weave together artificial flowers for a crown you can use year after year. Or you can make a crown like this. 

3. A path to process along! It doesn't have to be long, just pick a starting point and an end.  If you have a May altar, you can make a ceremony of placing her statue there. You might like to have stations, especially if your path is short. Make five stops for each of the joyful mysteries, or pick your three favorite hymns and sing each one at a different point on your walk.

4. Flowers. It's what May is all about. 



5. A ritual. So many possibilities, but really all you need is a prayer. For more, consider hymns ("Hail Holy Queen Enthroned Above," "O Most Holy One," and "Sing of Mary" are my favorites), praying a rosary, and scripture readings (Luke 1:46-55—the Magnificat!).

Postscript: This was supposed to be for May 1, but my pregnant brain forgot to click "publish," so here it is. Then, the next day I saw this post about planning a May crowning which would be great for larger groups of kids, so I'm passing it on. 

Also, I'm getting some weird formatting issue trying to edit this post right now, so my apologies if it looks weird.

The Conundrum of Kermit Gosnell for Pro-Choicers

What do Kermit Gosnell and pro-life activists have in common?

Baby feet. They're worth something to each. But what that is—well, the difference is as stark as night and day.

Pro-life people often wear pins shaped like the well-formed feet of 10-week-old fetuses to demonstrate the lie that babies in the womb are merely clumps of tissue.

Kermit Gosnell prefers the real things—that is, the actual, severed feet of fetuses. God knows why—the prosecutor of Gosnell's case speculates that they are trophies of some kind. In case you're only just now hearing about it, Gosnell is on trial for the murder of seven babies and one woman at his abortion clinic in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Now that he's finally heard of the story, Conor Friedersdorf at The Atlantic gives a rundown of the case so far (and why it should be on the front page):

Inducing live births and subsequently severing the heads of the babies is indeed a horrific story that merits significant attention. Strange as it seems to say it, however, that understates the case.

For this isn't solely a story about babies having their heads severed, though it is that. It is also a story about a place where, according to the grand jury, women were sent to give birth into toilets; where a doctor casually spread gonorrhea and chlamydiae to unsuspecting women through the reuse of cheap, disposable instruments; an office where a 15-year-old administered anesthesia; an office where former workers admit to playing games when giving patients powerful narcotics; an office where white women were attended to by a doctor and black women were pawned off on clueless untrained staffers. Any single one of those things would itself make for a blockbuster news story. Is it even conceivable that an optometrist who attended to his white patients in a clean office while an intern took care of the black patients in a filthy room wouldn't make national headlines?

But it isn't even solely a story of a rogue clinic that's awful in all sorts of sensational ways either. Multiple local and state agencies are implicated in an oversight failure that is epic in proportions! If I were a city editor for any Philadelphia newspaper the grand jury report would suggest a dozen major investigative projects I could undertake if I had the staff to support them. And I probably wouldn't have the staff. But there is so much fodder for additional reporting.

There is, finally, the fact that abortion, one of the most hotly contested, polarizing debates in the country, is at the center of this case. It arguably informs the abortion debate in any number of ways, and has numerous plausible implications for abortion policy, including the oversight and regulation of clinics, the appropriateness of late-term abortions, the penalties for failing to report abuses, the statute of limitations for killings like those with which Gosnell is charged, whether staff should be legally culpable for the bad behavior of doctors under whom they work...

There's just no end to it.

For just a moment, let's leave aside some of the lurid details about this story and look at the issue of what Gosnell routinely did at his clinic. He is alleged to have frequently performed illegal late-term (past 24 weeks) abortions, often by causing a live birth and killing the infant afterward with a snip to the spinal cord. The Alisa Snow/Planned Parenthood controversy of late showed anew that pro-abortion people (like our president) are okay with deciding to kill a baby born alive during abortion, as long as it's between the woman and her physician. Planned Parenthood, backing away from the position in a show of upholding the law, called such an event as a live birth during abortion "extremely unlikely."

Unless that's the way you do abortions. Testimony in trial puts the number of babies killed at Gosnell's clinic over 100. That would put him in the top five serial killers in US history by victim count, according to this graphic post by Jill Stanek. Terry Moran of Nightline calls him "probably the most successful serial killer in the history of the world" (H/T Hot Air).

It's those lurid details—bloody conditions, disease, racism—that lead Moran and others to say such things. LifeNews.com gives a point-by-point of the top atrocities revealed by the trial. Steel your stomach and read them.

Why would anyone choose to get an abortion—I mean, health care—at a horrible place like Gosnell's clinic? A partial answer is that many of them didn't. But they were "served" anyway. One woman, a minor at the time who was forced to the clinic and should have been protected by several mechanisms of the law from an unwanted abortion, was instead physically wrestled and drugged into it. Another woman changed her mind after seeing the conditions but the staff ignored her, sedated her, and aborted her child.

Some pro-choicers rightly denounce the Gosnell debacle as a grotesque caricature of health care, an exploitation of the disadvantaged, the antithesis of choice. But, as pro-choicers, they maintain that, even if abortion is not what they would choose, it's a legitimate choice that must be kept available. Meg McArdle writes about the dilemma of the pro-choice media:

Moreover, surely those of us who are pro-choice must worry that this will restrict access to abortion: that a crackdown on abortion clinics will follow, with onerous white-glove inspections; that a revolted public will demand more restrictions on late-term abortions; or that women will be too afraid of Gosnell-style crimes to seek a medically necessary abortion. 

The problem is that that's exactly the mentality that enabled the horrors of Gosnell's operation. The grand jury report indicates that "officials concluded that inspections would be 'putting a barrier up to women' seeking abortions." Meg McArdle speaks honestly when she says that legal abortion is necessary for this to have happened. "Gosnell was able to harm so many women and babies because he operated in the open." Indeed, as LifeNews.com says, "Back Alley Abortions Are Now on Main Street."

Some pro-choice people ignore Gosnell because (Jill Stanek again):

Truth be told, I don’t think these people consider abortion survivors as real people – or Gosnell a mass murderer.

Calling Gosnell a “mass murderer” for completing abortions outside the uterus brings them too close to pro-lifers who call abortionists mass murderers for completing abortions just a few inches the other way.

Yes, geography is an added problem for abortion supporters in this case. Being argued during the Gosnell trial is whether babies were legally aborted inside the uterus, or illegally murdered outside – and likely within a 30-second window of time. This sort of conversation makes the other side run.

The difference between a fetus inside the womb and an infant outside it is arbitrary. The problem for pro-choicers is, so is the difference between a 10-week-old fetus and a 24-week-old fetus. They either lie to themselves that it is not, or they lie to us that it doesn't matter either way.  No surprise. The abortion industry and advocates have for decades used euphemism, redirection, and outright deception to convince otherwise decent people that abortion is a good, or at least a necessary thing.

But the Gosnell case may force eyes open. Lord God, may it be so.

Image credit: Dora Pete

ROW80 Rules are rules

... so I'm stating a writing goal for the next 80 days and linking to the roundup. It's a private goal, won't be much to talk about, but the folks say I need to write it up all the same. So for the sake of harnessing the power of the bandwagon, here's my goal: to write at least one journal entry for every day of the round. I have several journals—dream journal, book journal, personal journal, etc.—but this exercise is limited to one kind of journaling only: my kids' journals, which I have been sorely neglecting for years.

Good luck, all you fellow ROWers!

He Has Risen, Alleluia!

Queen of heaven, rejoice!

For the one whom you have merited to bear

Has risen as He has said! 

Pray for us to God,

Alleluia!

Apparition of Christ to the Virgin, Guercino

 Here is an interesting look at the pious belief that Jesus appeared to His mother on His resurrection.

What Damage to Hell

Holy Saturday always brings to my mind two distinct images: the passage of the apostles' Sabbath in quiet, stunned grief, never imagining the secret glory that awaited them in a few hours' time; and the incredible joy that erupted into the world of the dead. The righteous souls who awaited God's promised One were the first to see his glory.

And when he was at deepest of the darkness, like as a robber shining and terrible to the tyrants of hell, they beheld him and began to demand and enquire: Who is he that is so strong, so terrible, so clear and so shining? The world, which is to us subject, sent to us never such one dead, ne he sent to us never such gifts into hell. Who is he then that is so constant that is entered into the furthest end of our parts, and he doubteth not only of our torments, but yet he hath unbound them of their bonds whom we held and kept? And they that were wont to wail and weep under our torments, assail us now by their health. And now not only they fear us, but now threaten and menace us. And they said to their prince: What prince art thou? All thy gladness is perished and all thy joys be converted into weepings. When thou hangedst him in the cross thou knewest not what damage thou shouldst suffer in hell.

From The Golden Legend, Jacobus de Voragine

A detail from Christ in Limbo, Hieronymous Bosch. 

The full image is one of those truly terrifying medieval depictions.

Related: Brandon Vogt has an ancient Holy Saturday homily I printed out once years ago. So glad to see it online. Go read it and ponder.

Black jellybeans

...Because they're my favorite.

Because Holy Thursday is a solemn yet joyous feast day.

Because gorging on jellybeans on Good Friday is wildly inappropriate, even if they're the liturgically correct color and you're not technically required to fast.

Because I'm having that kind of week.

More hurried and haphazard thoughts: on hope

that there's a lot of love on that loveseat—and room for more

I don't write much about the ins and outs of having a large family. Generally, I have a tendency to think that in practice I'm not a great example. But I believe so strongly in the love and life that are present in a large family as a witness to God's love for man, that just the fact that we exist is enough of a witness. "Whatever is worth doing is worth doing badly," and all that.

On that note, I read these two articles and found them juxtaposed in my head, opposite sides of the same coin. The first is from Msgr. Charles Pope, who had some of the exact same thoughts I found myself thinking this Sunday at Mass:

Yes, the days are here when most people cry out: blessed is barrenness, blessed are small families. Life it would seem, is a terrible burden to be contracepted and aborted away and some awful threat. It is an age that cries out “Blessed the career women who has not stymied her life and progress by the terrible and terrifying prospect of children.”

Yes, said the Lord to those ancient women, in effect, “You think this is bad? The days are actually coming when things will be so bad and so dark that people will celebrate NOT having children, will celebrate barrenness.”

But the Lord does not stop there. He goes on to describe quite well the culture of death so literally lived out in our times: people will say to the mountains, ‘Fall upon us!’ and to the hills, ‘Cover us!’

One may argue that this is just a Jewish way of speaking that indicates despair. Perhaps. But we live it out quite literally in our times, for it is the refrain of the culture of death. And what is the culture of death? It is the mentality that increasingly sees the death or non-existence of human beings as the “solution” to problems. In our times there has arisen a group of radicals who see human beings as a hindrance to their ecological goals, and they seek population reductions and even dream of a pristine earth without humanity. They peddle History Channel programs such as “Life after People” as a kind of fantasy of their vision and advocate contraceptive and abortive policies that see mankind as the problem that must be eliminated. In effect they cry to the mountains “fall on us” and dream of a world that is “post-human.” They even peddle disaster movies as though they were longing for it all.

If life nowadays is so much better than fifty or a hundred or two thousand years ago, when the life expectancy wasn't so long and the quality of life was so comparatively limited, why does there seem to be so much suicidal nihilism in today's world? (I have my theories: words like "control," "fear," "surrender," and "will" float around in my mental attempts to get a handle on the collective mindset of today's mankind. Nothing new.)

In contrast, this piece about why most people have only two children is a beautiful encouragement to reject that despair. It is sympathetic but gently forthright about where such leanings come from.

Really, who would do this again and again? You are so tired and overwhelmed that you know that God doesn't want someone to exist in such a way. You will say, "I'm not being a good mom to the two I have, why would I have more?" "I can't imagine feeling this way the rest of my life." "I can use my talents in much more productive ways besides having more children." "I was much more patient before I had children." "I am of no use to anyone in such a state." This little voice in your head is not from God. It is the devil trying to discourage you from THE MOST IMPORTANT WORK you will ever do.

Read the whole thing—especially if you are a young mother—about how children, and motherhood, and love and time shape you, and beautify you, and eventually allow you to change the world.

It's a good dose of hope, and hope is always the point of the journey through Holy Week.

A Sample of Spring

The media's blind-eye complicity

I wanted to write about this last week, but time wouldn't allow me to devote the attention I needed to make any new points. It's still worth reflecting on, and so I offer, with one or two concurring thoughts, the following.

One of my favorite short stories is a piece that appeared in Dappled Things a few years ago, called "Pear Trees". It's not actually about abortion or the press, but it does touch on how the press is complicit in covering for abortion simply by looking the other way.

She ordered another martini and studied the yellow rose in the center of the tiny black lacquered table, dainty and delicate, looking oddly contained in a sleek stainless steel vase. Patrick had sent her a dozen roses last fall from New Orleans when she'd had the abortion. He was there to write a piece on the racism of the Bush administration being responsible for the deaths of thousands of people. He hoped for a Pulitzer on that one, but there were too many others like it, too much competition. There were two dozen deep red roses. Jenn put them in her bedroom on the dresser, but she moved them out to the living room. They looked like blood, a great blood clot. Just a blood clot, a living one, yes, but just a clot. When Patrick called, she told him about the Women's Clinic, how they told her it would be painless, how excruciatingly painful it was, how there were little cell-like rooms all in a line down a long corridor, each one just big enough to contain a treatment table, a stool for the doctor, and a vacuum apparatus. So many, many little rooms, the doctor rushing down the corridor to spend a few minutes in each little room for the procedure, like an assembly-line operator. She thought Patrick might want to write about it--no one ever did, so he wouldn't have the competition he was having with the Katrina disaster and Bush administration. He wasn't interested, though. The steel vase was like a piston chamber, but where there should be a piston, there was a rose.

As a whole, I'd say that those in journalism pride themselves on the service they perform for society—informing the public about vital issues and events, shedding light on hidden truths and worthy causes. They consider themselves champions of such ideals as feminism and human rights. The Kermit Gosnell abortion story should have been low hanging fruit for any news media outlet and its intrepid investigative reporters.

But the reporting on this story has been pretty much a concert of crickets. Elizabeth Scalia writes a powerful indictment of the media's betrayal of the public trust by their silence.

The Gosnell story—a story that by any measure deserved in-depth coverage, some serious discussion about regulation and responsibility, and a few features forcing the nation to consider just when a “late-term” abortion slips into the category of “infanticide” or what our leadership and politicians really think of all of this—proved too big and too messy for the mainstream media.

They did not want light shed on dark truths that cannot be prettied up with euphemisms and nebulous notions of “choice.” They did not want to have to ponder the likelihood of Gosnell’s stinking, body-piled-and-bloodstained rooms being replicated in other cities, in other states, where other authorities chose to look away from the carnage, rather than address it.

The media turns a blind eye, handling the distasteful subject as little as they can possibly get away with, for the sake of a "greater cause." Sound familiar?

So, allow me to ask the impolitic question I have hinted at elsewhere: in choosing to look away, in choosing to under-report, in choosing to spin, minimize, excuse, and move-along when it comes to Kermit Gosnell—and to this whole subject of under-regulated abortion clinics, the debasement of women and the slaughter of living children—how are the press and those they protect by their silence any better than the Catholic bishops who, in decades past, looked away, under-reported, spun, minimized, excused, moved-along, and protected the repulsive predator-priests who have stolen innocence and roiled the community of faith?

People, no matter where they are, are all too prone to congratulate themselves on how enlightened their ideas are, or how honorable their intentions, how noble their pursuits.  Meanwhile, when something truly evil rears its head to threaten that self-image, they send some token roses, wash their hands of the ugliness, and move on.

Quick Takes

1

Habemus Papam! It's still such a joy. Everyone is talking about it. I love it. Even Nameberry, my favorite baby name source, showed the signs. By the end of Wednesday, "Francis" and "Frances" were the most widely viewed names, according to the name cloud on their home page. Thursday morning, "Francis" was still holding for boys names, "Frances" had been replaced by "Francesca," and "Francine" was bigger than both.  

(My oldest has gone on the record as wanting to name a baby sister "Francesca," since I won't tell her the name we already picked.)

2

I would guess that our pope has a devotion to Our Lady that, though it may not be of the same character as, say, that of Blessed John Paul II's (who was probably much more, shall we say, extroverted in everything that he did than this pope looks to be) is solid, and deeply rooted in both prayer and imitation. His archdiocese's motto, "Lowly but Chosen," is reminiscent of Mary's song of praise in Luke 1. Now, I think, will be a good time for us to memorize the Magnificat as a family, right in time for May. 

3

I think in honor of the new pope, I'm going to read my favorite Flannery O'Connor short story, "The Enduring Chill." (Here's a tiny taste.) It features two different Jesuit priests. One, spoken of mostly in expository back story, is an urbane, intellectual man who appeals to the protagonist for his sophisticated worldliness. The other is, well, an Irishman from Georgia and works to put the fear of God back in him (the protagonist). Rather entertaining, and a timely story, I think.  (Not necessarily because of any similarity to our pope other than the Society of Jesus, but just one of those stories that shows O'Connor clearly has a handle on contemporary human nature.)

4

And now for something serious. Will you spare a prayer for my cousin and her unborn identical twins? They have been diagnosed with Twin to Twin Transfusion Syndrome, and they have undergone surgery to correct the problem and are responding well so far. But they are all still in the hospital, and my cousin will be on bed rest for the rest of the pregnancy (she's about 21 weeks along right now). She and her husband have three children at home, so prayers for the whole family, but especially for her and the twins.

Thank you so much.

5

Anybody else slacking on their garden this year? It's already halfway through March, and it doesn't feel to me as if I ought to be working on a garden yet. Here in Georgia, though, it's time for seed-starting and I've pretty much missed the pruning time for flowering shrubs. Oh, well. I can still dream. And make grand plans for "later."

6

I read this last week. I think I need to read it again. And think about it a little longer. Confession is tomorrow...

And the internet is it’s own resistance machine. “Have you finished the internet yet?” my husband sometimes asks me at night, when I’ve been at it for long enough, and the end of the internet is nowhere in sight. It’s like the “Ripley’s Believe it or Not” book that my kids brought home from the library, full of tattooed women and men with long fingernails. One never tires…

All of these things, food, sleep, time, technology, are like one big sacred cow at whose bovine teats one can suckle all day long. When I come off of her I cry and ask to nurse again until I am pacified. But I am never pacified.

...

Father Barron has noted that if will is the problem, then will is not the solution. I want to say that I should be able to pull myself up by my own bootstraps. Quit doing the things I hate, and do the things I love instead. Combat my lack of will power, with willpower!*

The problem is I don’t really love what I ought to love yet–I still love my sacred cows. And I love the delusion that I can by my own efforts, correct every ill in my life (I love being the Sacred Cow).

Read the rest at Betty Duffy's blog.

7

Since I mentioned Pride and Prejudice the other day, I'll offer this bright little bit of joy from the Hollywood rom-com/Bollywood musical hybrid, "Bride and Prejudice." It's a fun little cross-cultural take on Jane Austen's novel. It always cheers my eyes, and who couldn't use that on a Friday in Lent? My apologies if I've showed it before—I didn't have time to check.

There's a slightly longer one here, with the end of the dance, but this one has subtitles. You're welcome.

And share your Quick Takes at Jen Fulwiler's blog!

He Leads the World in Prayer

Of all the things now being reported about out new pope, it's what I saw myself that is most striking to me.

First he led us in prayer for Benedict XVI. Then he asked for our silent prayers for himself, and bowed his own head and gave us time to do likewise.

Maybe it's having had so many small kids, but it reminded me of nothing so much as a father teaching his children how to pray. Those three simple prayers, often the first prayers a child learns, are foundational to a Catholic prayer life. And once we know them, sometimes we must learn, and learn again, simply to pray.

There's already been plenty of cyber ink spilled about the new pope—naturally, he are eager to learn more about him. Here are a few of the links I've enjoyed so far.

Here are 10 facts about the pope to get you started. You can read this one for a little more information—like did you know he taught lit and psychology? :-)  And here's a take inspired by Pope Francis's motto: "Lowly but Chosen."  This oldie but goodie at the Catholic Herald is thoughtful and informative. A hat tip for that one goes to Mark Shea, whose continuously updated thoughts on the new pope are (as always) illuminative and delightful.

 (Please pardon the quality of these pic. The kids insisted on lots of screen shots while we watched a live feed of the announcement and blessing.)

Waiting after the White Smoke

Five Favorite Things

1

I have been listening to Pride and Prejudice on LibriVox for the past few weeks, and it has been such a pleasure. Admittedly, a more high-end production would have less distractions (for instance, every reader seems to pronounce "Derbyshire" differently, and some styles of reading aloud are more, shall we say, amateur than others). In all, though, I actually look forward to doing some chores now, just so I can press play on the next chapter. LibriVox is a treasure trove of material—everything there is in the public domain, so there are a lot of classics. I'm sure I'll find something else once I run out of Austen (and maybe go through Jane Eyre). Any suggestions?

2

We came upon this sight a few nights ago at bedtime. The play kitchen had been moved from the playroom to the little boys' room to the nursery here, and here were the two little girls, quietly pouring and sipping "tea," long past when they were supposed to be tucked in bed. Honestly, late bedtimes are no infrequent occasion around here—but they were just so quiet, we didn't know what they were doing! They've since acquired a little toy table and a number of frequent guests in their brothers. 

I love to watch them. 

There's nothing better than a toddler tea party. 

3

For the past few days I've been wearing this necklace, which my husband bought for me several years ago. It's part of the Vatican Library Collection, jewelry inspired by art from the Vatican. (It doesn't look like this one is available anymore.) He got me a few little pieces, whenever he happened to see something at Dillards while they were carrying the line; this is probably my favorite. It has been a little act of devotion to wear it and pray for Mary's intercession during the conclave. 

4 

So I'm behind in my blog reading (I'm perpetually behind in my blog reading) and I just discovered this Pinterest board by Rosie at Like Mother, Like Daughter. I love quilts. I have plans for making at least 20 of them—designs, fabrics—despite the fact that I have never put together a single quilt in my life. I can't help it. Aren't they beautiful? 

5

I haven't figured out whether I can safely use some pictures on my blog or not, so better safe than sorry. You'll have to go to the listing at Etsy to see this beautiful ceramic honey pot that I put on my wishlist. I've been wanting a glass or ceramic honey pot for my kitchen counter for a year or two. This one is homey and adorable. I can't help but think of Winnie the Pooh. 

Go see Hallie for more Five Favorite Things!

Hidden in History

(I'm sorry if this comes across as anticlimactic at this historic moment.)

Today at noon I have a powerful impression of how, in obscurity over 2,000 years ago, occurred one of the two most life-altering, world-changing moments.

The angel of the Lord declared unto Mary,
And she conceived of the Holy Spirit...
"Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord.
Be it done unto me according to your word."...
And the Word was made flesh,
And dwelt among us.

The other, which we will celebrate in three weeks, though it began quite publicly and stretched over three days, also culminated in obscurity.

Thank you, Lord, for hidden treasures and secret places.

Here we go again!

At about this time 8 years ago I was at just about this point: the last weeks of pregnancy, and awaiting a new papa with the rest of the world. This time the pope will be announced a little earlier, and the baby a wee bit later.

All the same, I do have a small, happy sense of déjà vu. It's one of anticipation, some small anxiety, but mostly excitement and trust. Tomorrow the conclave begins; I feel that Mother Church is gestating a new alter Christus, and I can't wait to meet him.

I can't get these words out of my head:



Even now the tears well up when I watch this. I don't think it's just the pregnancy hormones. It's just those words: "Habemus papam!"

I didn't have a horse in the last race, so to speak, but I was familiar enough with Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger to be thrilled when he was elected. I am, maybe, even less certain about the chances of the various papabiles this time around, even though I know more names. But whomever the cardinals choose this time, I am confident I will love him.

Come, Holy Spirit,
Fill the hearts of your faithful,
And kindle in them the fire of your love.
Send forth your Spirit, and they shall be created.
And you will renew the face of the earth.

Lord, you are our eternal shepherd and guide.
In your mercy grant your Church
a shepherd who will walk in your ways
and whose watchful care will bring us your blessing.
We ask this through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,
who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God, for ever and ever.
Amen.

(Our parish offered this prayer or a similar one for the faithful to pray every day until the new pope's election, but I lost it. I found this one at St James Cathedral's website.)

Baking and Breaking Bread

"40 Loaves" would be a misnomer, and is also misleadingly Lenten sounding, but that's what I'm calling this little effort. Actually, it's for the whole year, and and it's not limited to actual loaves of bread, but goes for any bread-type food I can bake up. And I'm thinking I'm not stopping once I hit 40 recipes.

I have this mindset which makes starting the hardest part of a project, cooking or otherwise. I've done pretty well so far, turning out six recipes, including the French bread that kickstarted the resolution. I've made the French bread recipe several times; it's probably my favorite so far in the bread machine manual, which you can dig through, if you're so inclined.

So, you can see I'm not limiting myself to only new recipes (although I count each recipe only once for this little experiment). Here's another one that I recently made that's not new to me. Several times I've had these 30 Minute Rolls when I don't have a bread for dinner and it's too late to use the bread machine. It takes me closer to an hour, because I'm slow. But they're good, and they're big enough that the dozen the recipe makes is sufficient for my family.

This rosemary bread is the bread that, years ago, taught me to love my bread machine. When my carb-loving son, who has survived on bread alone (just about) for five years, asks me to make bread, this is usually the one he wants. And it smells divine.

This Sweet Hawaiian yeast bread recipe caught my eye because we love Kings Hawaiian around here, especially the Hawaiian Sweet rolls with Sunday Chicken. To be honest, (maybe it's my bread machine, and/or my lack of breadmaking skills,) this bread really isn't like the rolls much at all— it's denser and it's not as sweet. But it is a good, yummy bread— I think it would be a good sandwich bread. The kids loved it.

Speaking of sandwich breads, I found this recipe on a search after deciding to make more of the bread we use for lunch. One lunch uses up a whole store-bought loaf, so I was thinking I might be able to stretch our grocery budget a little if I could find a way to make it ourselves. This honey wheat bread machine bread recipe is promising, if I could just cut it thin enough... Maybe I need one of those bread-slicing boxes? No matter. We've only had it for dinner anyway, where everybody liked it well enough.

Picturesque loaves are not the bread machine's strong suite.

Today's bread is a corn bread, from the manual. It wasn't what I was looking for to go with the corned beef stew we had last night for dinner—it used quite a lot of bread flour and not nearly enough cornmeal—but I decided to go ahead and try it anyway, and just whipped up some corn muffins from a boxed mix for dinner. It smelled so wonderful as it baked. But bread always does, doesn't it?

Mmm... get the butter.

I'm pulling some more ideas that I can't wait to try. Caleb (the carb-lover) and I have found a "beginner's bread" recipe that he wants to try all by himself.  I have three Irish soda bread options lined up for St. Patrick's Day. And St. Joseph's feast day is after that, although I'll probably fall back on my French bread recipe for our St. Joseph table. Do you have a favorite recipe?

The Last Hours

It is the last few hours of Benedict XVI's papacy. I am oddly depressed. Not so oddly, I suppose. Along with a lot of other people, I was surprised and a little dismayed when the pope announced his intentions two weeks ago. But quickly, as the news sank in, and as I later realized what he was doing in retreating to a monastery for a life of prayer, I was happy for him and for us.

This has been my favorite pope, the pope of my adulthood. I was too young to know any others before John Paul II, whom I loved, truly loved, from afar. The "new" pope was a scholarly man, a teacher, someone (like me, I perceived) who would much rather use the gifts God gave him quietly reading and writing and communing with fellow theophiles. Instead, he poured those gifts out to nourish the children God gave him. An unexpected model for an introverted mother.

I am still happy to have him with us, in whatever capacity. And I look forward with joy and trust to whatever the results of the conclave bring us.

But I am realizing afresh that the end of a papacy even in this manner is not so far removed from mourning at a deathbed.

Today, in the final hours of the pope's Petrine ministry, we will attend a mass of thanksgiving. That is, the older kids will attend while I sit outside with the squirmy little ones and pray. Then we will start our brief sedevacantism in the dentist's office, because life goes on.

But I will miss you, Pope Benedict XVI.

A few links:

A tribute: 'night, Papa

Please: for next Pope, an average Joe

The Church is alive

About having a big family

I don't do it to save the world.

I do it out of fidelity to a God who loves us all.

But I admit to getting a self-righteous kick out of reading the recent stories bemoaning the nation's falling fertility rate. Even the secular and liberal bastions of online discourse are starting to talk about it: We are now below the replacement rate, it's actually not a good place to be, and (though they are loathe to say so) our biggest hope is religious, conservative, procreating families like mine. Here's Slate:

In developed countries, childrearing has become a lifestyle option tailored to each couple’s preferences. Maximizing fertility is rarely a priority. My wife and I are a case in point. I’m 46, she’s 39, and we have two toddlers. We waited about as long to have kids as we feasibly could because we were invested in building our careers and, frankly, enjoying all the experiences that those careers let us have. If wanted to pop out another ankle-biter right now, our ageing bodies might just allow us to do so. But we have no intention of trying. As much as we adore our little guys, they’re a lot of work and frighteningly expensive. Most of our friends have just one or two kids, too, and like us they regard the prospect of having three or four kids the way most people look at ultramarathoning or transoceanic sailing—admirable pursuits, but only for the very committed.

That attitude could do for Homo sapiens what that giant asteroid did for the dinosaurs. If humanity is going to sustain itself, then the number of couples deciding to have three or four kids will consistently have to exceed the number opting to raise one or zero. The 2.0 that my wife and I have settled for is a decent effort, but we’re not quite pulling our weight. Are we being selfish? Or merely rational? Our decision is one that I’m sure future generations will judge us on. Assuming there are any.

Heh. Yeah, I guess I'm "very committed." I have been tempted to joke, post a tongue-in-cheek status update on Facebook about how many of the childless people I'm picking up the slack for. But the Church, while counseling in favor of love and generosity, wisely leaves such decisions up to spouses. There are so, so many legitimate reasons for having no, or fewer, children.

(And who would blame a priest or religious for not procreating to replace themselves, or say they are not committed?)

Then there's this piece in The Daily Beast, about how many choose to remain childless, and even stay single, for "legitimate, if perhaps selfish, reasons," and my thoughts get a little more serious. The writer also talks about why it may be good for individuals but it's bad for America. I, on the other hand, can't help but think about how it goes beyond America. I found its treatment of the attitudes behind this choice to be begrudgingly honest, even as the writer seems to affirm them.

Postfamilial America is in ascendancy as the fertility rate among women has plummeted, since the 2008 economic crisis and the Great Recession that followed, to its lowest level since reliable numbers were first kept in 1920. That downturn has put the U.S. fertility rate increasingly in line with those in other developed economies—suggesting that even if the economy rebounds, the birthrate may not. For many individual women considering their own lives and careers, children have become a choice, rather than an inevitable milestone—and one that comes with more costs than benefits.

“I don’t know if that’s selfish,” says Jordan, the daughter of an Ecuadoran and an Ohioan who grew up in the South Bronx, explaining her reasons for a decision increasingly common among women across the developed world, where more than half of the world’s population is now reproducing at below the replacement rate. “I feel like my life is not stable enough, and I don’t think I necessarily want it to be ... Kids, they change your entire life. That’s the name of the game. And that’s not something I’m interested in doing.”

That might evoke the response, "Well, if that's the way you are, yeah, it's better that a person like you doesn't have children." Selfish people shouldn't have kids, right? (That's an argument I hear people make of themselves when choosing to abort. "I'm too irresponsible, I'm horrible with kids, I have major issues. I shouldn't be having a baby.") And when it comes to passing down values to future generations, these, one might argue, are not the ones we want perpetuated.

But when a child is born, there is the chance that that new soul will make different choices, rise above tragic circumstances. There is the chance that the parents themselves will be drawn by their children and their heartstrings closer to Love. "A baby is God's opinion that the world should go on" goes the saying, credited to Carl Sagan of all people. Children are a sign of hope; they are an embodiment of hope. Are people abandoning hope? Or are they just short-sighted, seeing nothing but themselves and their own interests?

I can sympathize with fearing the "costs" of having kids. The expense, lifestyle changes, bodily changes, opportunity costs—I get it. Better than they do, I'd say. It's worth it. But that's a hard sell to a lot of people, and the best change—what happens to your heart, your soul when you have a child—is probably their greatest fear. They are afraid of becoming someone other than "who they are." They don't want to lose themselves. But you have to lose yourself in order to find yourself. To save yourself.

As far as movements go, people have no idea how close the "childfree by choice" one is to hell. You can see it in the rejection of marriage, as well as children. For what is hell but a rejection of communion? Increasingly hell is understood to be not the will of God but a choice the soul makes, seeking itself over God. An overarching desire for control. A rejection of others, a refusal to love. Choosing not to have children for selfish reasons is a failure to love. God is a family; Satan looked out for number one. God made the sacrifice and loved, unto death and beyond. Satan made the choice to serve himself.

Ultimately, it is a self-consuming choice.

Some Thoughts for Ash Wednesday

Life always seems to be full to the brim with nine kids running around, even if it's full of the same crazy shenanigans everyday. (What's that joke about that crazy habit kids have of needing to be fed several times a day?) Before I let another momentous day go by, I thought I'd check in with some hurried thoughts.

Goodbye, Papa

I can't go without mentioning the astounding news of Pope Benedict's renunciation of the Petrine ministry, effective at the end of the month. Like many others, I thought someone was pulling my leg when I first heard the news. Perhaps I'll go more into my own thoughts on the occasion when I have more time. Right now, I'll direct you to the Anchoress, who has to my knowledge the best round ups of links about the papal announcement.

What Are You Giving Up?

I only half-resolved on anything for the new year. (More on that in a minute.) Lent is clearer to me. I'm giving up the Internet.

Not entirely. I depend on it too much on a day-to-day basis to do that just yet. I'm always surprised by how much even some of the most mundane things are somehow reliant on an Internet connection. But I'm plugged in way more than I need to be—than is good for me—and I feel the need to fast. I've set some parameters that limit and direct my Internet use to one hour a day, max. I doubt you'll see less of me, though, given my sporadic posting routine so far. In fact, since I may have more time to actually write, you may even see more of me.

Unless you're doing an Internet fast too.

Another Resolution

A month and a half into 2013, I finally have my thing. Oh, I chose a word, and then never did anything about it. (Publicly, I mean. It's still been a source of personal inspiration.) I had lots of ideas, but that in itself seemed a bad sign. Last year I made twelve resolutions, one for each month. I worked on them all, but actually checked off as done... not one.

This year I couldn't decide what was important enough, inspiring enough, and possible enough to raise to the status of a resolution. This afternoon it hit me while I was making some bread for dinner. I'm going to try at least 40 new bread recipes.

And now you will laugh.

But it's really quite inspired for me. It requires forethought, planning, and creativity—all things I need and crave. It's budget-minded. It's loads more doable than 365 days of crockpot dinners (which I would love to do, by the way). I'm using a bread machine (which came with lots of great recipes) so it's kid-friendly, beginner friendly, and quasi-educational (because I am not a baker). And there's even a spiritual component to mine.

Have you made your Lenten resolutions? What are your thoughts this Ash Wednesday?

Shining a light

In the bustle of life, we did not get to the church for Candlemas this morning. I am always sad to miss it, but the truth is that I miss it more often than not in this season of raising little ones. I had this consolation, though—Neal Obstat's spotlight on the Brotherhood of Hope.

I will not attempt to do any justice to their life and charism, their mission and history. I simply wish to say that this — never in my life have I encountered a religious community that contained men of such high caliber. They are thoroughly real flesh and blood men, overflowing with gifts and talents, who love Jesus in a most manly way; who love others in a most remarkably Jesus way; who pray like the ancients but are savvy to all things contemporary; who live their fraternity in a way that raises up the dignity of family life; who honor women in a way few men bother to any more; who manifest the truth that true diversity deepens unity and that true unity is the most effective means of evangelization.

I'm always glad to see a shout-out for the campus ministers who guided me into a more genuine faith and equipped me for its continuing maturation.

God bless you, brothers!

I want to be like this

...like a woman who created a community in her backyard.

She hosted lunches and dinners and neighborhood concerts. She invited friends and neighbors and strangers to share meals around her table. She marked every holiday with an invitation that said “the more, the merrier.” And then on Thanksgiving Day, the 500th guest sat at her table—she’d reached her goal more than a month early.

...

At every party, guests signed their names on the table, and Sarah says that the community they formed along the way wrote the story of that table together. And the gatherings themselves unfolded with community spirit — one person holding a new mom’s baby so she could eat for a minute, someone jumping up to refill glasses, a first-time guest volunteering to load the dishwasher. Everyone pitched in, and some of the sweetest memories were made bumping into each other in the kitchen, washing dishes together long after dinner was over.

There are so many ways and so many scales on which to do this. Even an introvert like me can manage it somehow. Thoughts?

Quick Takes: A reading list for 2013

With the new year, people always have something to say about their reading: their favorite books from the past year, their intended reads for the coming one. Last year Jason bought me a Moleskine book journal that I didn't use at all. I have resolved to remedy that this year—and not to let the perfect be the enemy of the good. Many of my library borrows are spot reads, books that I don't finish for one reason or another, and that I may or may not attempt to finish later. Some, not all, of these have made it into my journal for January.

The books I really want to make sure get in there, the books I really want to be intentional about reading, are going on my "2013" list. And I'm trying to be reasonable. Keep it doable, but know that I'm not going to be able to resist adding to it. Here's my list—mostly Christmas gifts.

1. The Province of Hope: Praying with Flannery O'Connor by Angela Alaimo O'Donnell. I put this on my wish list on the recommendation of—was it the Anchoress? Happy Catholic? I can't remember. Anyway, I love Flannery O'Connor's writing, both her fiction and her letters, so I didn't need to know much about this book to want it. Looking forward to reading it slowly.

2. Introduction to the Devout Life by St. Francis de Sales. A Catholic classic that I haven't yet cracked open—until yesterday, appropriately enough.

3. Catholicism: A Journey to the Heart of the Faith by Fr. Robert Barron. Another that came highly recommended. I know somebody else out there is reading this right now. Anyone want to start a book club?

4. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, translated by J. R. R. Tolkien. I know the story, and now I get to sink my teeth into the longer text. I'm finding the alliterative poetry of this book a joy. Not strictly a Christmas gift, because I cheated and bought it for myself for my birthday! So when I received a second copy, I returned it to get myself something else! Which was...

5. Educating the Wholehearted Child by Clay and Sally Clarkson. I formally have five students (not including the littles who would be preschool), one in high school, and I'm feeling it. I felt the need for an infusion of encouragement and inspiration, and since I have long respected, and often tried to emulate, Elizabeth Foss' approach to home education, I took my cue from her and turned to this book. It looks promising. 

6. Jesus of Nazareth: The Infancy Narratives by Pope Benedict XVI. Actually Natalie's Christmas present. We'll be reading it together. Can't wait.

7. The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings by J. R R. Tolkien. Also rereads. I couldn't resist, after watching the movie with my two oldest kids last month. I'm trying to get a friend, a newbie, to read them with me. She's already started The Hobbit. What say you, Krystin?

Of course there's more, but since I don't have time right now even to consider them for inclusion in a post, I figure it will be a while until I get around to reading them.

What books do you want to read in 2013?