Posted By Christina M on August 1, 2005

I’ve never been on Fear Factor. Apparently someone with the same name as me was; but I assure you, I have no desire either to torture myself or to degrade myself for prize money.

I should point out, as long as I’m at it, that I am also not a Canadian songwriter or a professional photographer, and I’ve never written a press release for Newt Gingrich.

What I am is a wife and mother. Now, I know that some people think of those words with “just” or “only” in front of them. I remember when I was carrying my first child and I ran into an old teacher of mine. I glowingly told her of my good news, that I’d been married for two years and was expecting. She looked confused and said “I thought you were smart.”

And here I am years later, glancing between the invite to my twentieth high school reunion and my not-yet-swelling belly, giving thanks that whatever I might do in regards to a career one day, I know that family and God will always be the real priority.

Alas, I’ve never bobbed for pig tongues in a vatful of fat, but I am surrounded by love. I wouldn’t trade for all the fame of the others who share my name. If you came to this site looking for Fear Factor, I am sorry to disappoint you. I am “just” discalced and with child. And I am happy.

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Posted By Christina M on July 25, 2005

Not too long ago, Joel and I were at Wal-Mart with our usual cartful of family-sized groceries. When we got to the front of the line, nobody was behind us. As we placed our items on the conveyer belt, the clerk chatted with us, with a friendly smile. Then a young couple lined up behind us, and the mood changed.

The girl-woman began griping to her boyfriend about there being no “quick check” and how long this was taking. She spoke just loudly enough for me to be sure that she intended for me to hear her complaints that our purchase was taking too long. Couldn’t we see that these important people behind us had important things to do at the lake, and we were taking up their valuable time purchasing vegetables and milk?

Never mind that the stranger was mistaken about quick checks at the store. At the time, at least two quick-check lines were open. Never mind that they were quite able to see the size of our load before they decided to queue behind us. What really bothered me was that she seemed indignant that we were buying enough groceries to feed a family of eight.

Yes, a family of eight. Go ahead, gasp now. (This was before little Nine came into creation.)Yes, we had the audacity not only to have six kids, all home at the same time, but to be buying sufficient groceries to keep them fed! And we were inconveniencing The Young and the Roostless by our mere presence.

So far in the past few years I’ve seen counties pass laws to dictate how many square feet or how many bedrooms a family must have per person; I’ve seen the eco-protestors attempting to illegalize or penalize the ownership of large vehicles. And I’ve seen state-published pamphlets targeting Spanish-speaking people with contraception propaganda that they don’t bother distributing to English-speaking people.

What do all of these movements and thought-lines have in common? They all target large families and groups of people that frequently have them. Abortion and contraception literature is one of the few forms of racial discrimination that is not only allowed by the government but actually created and distributed by it.

European Christians now have negative population growth, and the US is coming closer to it daily. This is not good for the economy, nor is it good for the character of our nation. Places like France and Germany are in danger of losing their very cultural roots by the elimination of the cultures that have grown there for thousands of years, and the U.S. would be next, if those who scorn families had their way.

Large families are not caused by ignorance or lack of social consciousness. They are usually caused by the presence of values in the home, and affection between a husband and a wife. Next time I hear “You’re pregnant? Don’t you know what causes that?” I think I’ll answer, simply, “Yes. Love.”

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Posted By Christina M on July 24, 2005

It seems the Catholic Blogosphere is growing… around the waist. Guess which blogger is about to increase his family size and his wife’s waistline?

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Posted By Christina M on July 18, 2005

… elbow.

I’m still chuckling over what happened yesterday morning as we were getting ready for Mass. I had my handy-dandy-never-wrinkle dress, but desperately needed the slip to go with it. It wasn’t where I thought I remembered putting it, so I asked St. Anthony to help me find it. He’s helped me on numerous occasions, and one of his favorite ways seems to be by giving me a clue in my email. Don’t ask me why; I think maybe he feels he was born in the wrong generation?

Anyway, I checked the first message in the inbox, and it was one I’d already read. The only part I hadn’t read was the signature, so I read it. It was about music. Ok, rush to the side of the bed where the clock radio is, I think. I couldn’t find it anywhere. About that time, my son came into the room. “Andy,” I said, “Anthony is your patron saint.” (He chose the name Anthony at confirmation because, as he put it, “He finds things.”) “Can you ask him for help finding my slip?

Unbeknownst to me, he wandered over to my computer. “Music,” he said.

“What?”

“Music. It was the first word I saw on your computer screen.”

I thought it was kind of funny that he used “my” method. “Where did you see it?” It isn’t, after all, much of a coincidence if he looked at the email I already had open to that spot.

“Right here,” he said. Apparently someone had clicked on a different tab in the browser, and it was on a different page. Andy had come up with the same word. We kept searching by the clock radio, thinking we must have overlooked it.

Just about this time, the Charming and Patient Husband came into the room. Andy rushed to tell him how St. Anthony had “given us the same word.” Joel peered into a laundry basket that I thought I’d already searched, and saw the baby’s favorite toy sitting on top. It’s a toy laptop that, when starts up, says “Hello, let’s play. Let’s make some music!” It gets annoying to us simpleminded grownups, I assure you. Joel said “Let’s make some music!” in a perfect impersonation of the tone of the voice in the computer toy. He lifted the toy, and there was the slip.

I like St. Anthony despite his being a wise elbow. Or maybe because of it. Anyway, thank you, Saintly Friend.

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Posted By Christina M on July 15, 2005

They didn’t list any genuine cheeses made in America. So that makes me only

You Are 71% American

Most times you are proud to be an American. Though sometimes the good ole US of A makes you cringe Still, you know there’s no place better suited to be your home. You love your freedom and no one’s going to take it away from you!

71% American?

No more than Joel?!

I’ve never even daydreamed of living in Canada or Wales! Bwaaah, it isn’t fair! I demand a recount!

(Hat tip to the equally American Charming and Patient Husband.)

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Posted By Christina M on July 11, 2005

Last week, my husband and I went to the funeral of our next door neighbor, Mrs. Rhoads. She was a very kind lady of 91, who had worked out three times a week at the health club, and never complained. To give you an idea of the sort of woman she was, about two months after my baby was born she saw me mowing the lawn. “Should you be doing that so soon?” she asked. Then she offered to mow it for me. Yes, a 90 year old woman offered to mow the lawn for her 37 year old neighbor that she barely knew, out of concern.

She didn’t tell anyone she had cancer. We found out by accident, when we participated in the Relay for Life, a cancer fundraiser. There were paper lanterns with names of people with cancer and people who had died of cancer, and we saw her name. Even after we spoke to her about it, she never complained, though. She just said that she’d had a good life and was ready to meet the Father.

Her children, also faith-filled, said the same. Yes, they would miss her dearly; but there was no doubt in their minds and hearts that this loving lady would be full of joy in the presence of the Father of all Love.

The funeral was a beautiful testimony to the life of a woman who lived for God. It was also a testimony to love: the love between her and her spouse of more than sixty years, the love between her and her children, the love that she extended toward all — strangers and friends alike. My husband and I both found ourselves hoping that we will one day be that kind of witness of a life of love.

Then a speaker at the funeral said something that stopped me in my tracks. He spoke of people feeling guilty for the things they meant to say or do, but never got around to. He said not to focus on those things, because Mrs. Rhoads certainly wasn’t. But I was already thinking of the loaf of bread I had meant to make her, to thank her for her kindnesses. But then I found out she had high blood pressure and worried that my recipe would be too high in cholesterol or sodium. I never got around to finding another recipe, or even letting her know in some other way that even though we didn’t know each other well, she had deeply touched my life with her enormous heart.

Saturday, we went to the wedding of my brother in law. It was one of those “finally” weddings, and we were all delighted to see him stand beside someone he loves enough to step into life together with. The priest at the wedding said something I thought beautiful and wise, just as he was wrapping up his homily. He referred to couples, after many years of marriage, being able to say “I shared the best years of my life with the person who made them the best years of my life.”

After seeing both an ending and a beginning of deeply loving marriages, and after being reminded twice within a few days of the beauty and importance of love, all I can think is to pray that I and my husband may live the kind of life together that will fulfill all the highest expectations of people stepping into marriage, and inspire others when we reach the end of our life together. I hope I will never again put off till tomorrow offering signs of love and appreciation.

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Posted By Christina M on July 6, 2005

Poor Oprah has been the victim of a hate crime. Her recovery after this disheartening occurrance will naturally be very slow, and of course she will use the event to help in her crusade to inform and educate the public. Clearly her motive is the good of the public, not publicity or a program topic for her television show. She wants to be sure that the other ordinary people of the world never have to endure what she went through.

Let me elaborate. Not too long ago, the unselfish woman was, in a brutal act of racial intolerance, turned away from a store that was closed.

Oprah has informed the public that it was one of the most humiliating moments of her life.

If we do not share her pain, we are a discompassionate people. The little people who worry over whether or not they have enough food to feed their children have never endured anything as significant as this — being turned away from a luxury shop that is closed!

Little people, ordinary people of the world, unite! Shed your tiny worries and focus on the real angst of the world: Oprah being treated like regular person.

(Hat tip to WriteWingNut.)

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Posted By Christina M on July 5, 2005

Read this. If you are down on yourself, study it. If you are really hurting, bookmark it and read it again tomorrow. And if you think you can’t change things, make it your start page.

Sometimes I think that demon he mentions is a real demon, a voice that talks so loud it interferes with my hearing God. It isn’t quite the classic “angel on one shoulder, devil on the other” picture, but there’s a similarity. It’s time to silence the demon and listen to God.

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Posted By Christina M on June 28, 2005

Yesterday I stumbled upon a site that gave help for those with trouble falling asleep. At first I read it because one of our daughters has had sleep problems for over a year now. But as I read it, I realized that more and more I, too, have a lot of difficulty falling asleep. All of the advice in the article was sound; yet one element lacked: the necessity of falling asleep with contentment. St. Augustine said “Our souls are restless until they rest in You,” and he was right. Contentment and rest cannot come unless we remove the restlessness born of the troubles in our souls that separate us from God and duty.

For our daughter, the sleep problems began, not so coincidentally, when she started getting involved with the occult. Praying to “the goddess” didn’t help her fall asleep, but instead she found that the peace she sought eluded her dramatically. So much so that she would frequently lie awake all night. Then she would drag through the day too tired to accomplish anything, and the feelings of inadequacy that resulted from that would increase her lack of peace, adding to the difficulty in sleeping.

For me, the sleep problems have been less consistent. Usually they occur when items on my “to do” list go too long undone. My biggest difficulty has been a mental block about paying bills. Dreading seeing the state of our budget, I would procastinate about opening the books until the budget was truly in a state deserving dread. The budget wasn’t the only thing bothering me, though. I also dreaded the inevitable moments of realizing that some important document was missing because the house needed cleaning and my papers needed organizing.

But this isn’t a confessional post. Rather, it’s a witness to a certain eye-opening that occurred as I did my morning planning. It suddenly occurred to me that my sleep difficulty and our daughter’s sleep difficulty are, in a way, caused by the same thing: worry about our own shortcomings. Guilt, self-induced stress, and awareness of a lack of productiveness all have the same effect on us: we worry, because we know we are not living up to God’s intentions for us. And it’s awfully difficult to fall asleep when you’re worried.

Today I’m making a resolution: to try to accomplish something each day. I know it might be too much for a disorganized soul like mine to try to accomplish everything; but I will hope, and ask God’s help, not to let any day be a total waste. And I will continue to offer prayers for those who have forgotten God’s forgiveness, that they will know in the depths of their hearts that God does not reject those who return to Him.

I ask you to join me in the prayer. And if you, too, have trouble sleeping, I invite you to join me in seeking resolution to the troubles that keep us awake. Our souls are restless until they rest in God: let us seek that rest.

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Posted By Christina M on June 24, 2005

It isn’t just because Maureen Martin shares a first name with my oldest best friend and a last name with my hubbiest best friend. Her blog is really well written, and I highly recommend it. She’s pithy, smart, and amusing. Her blog will find itself on your bookmarks list. Go read it!

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