Well, I am going to close my spiritual mini-saga here - in Part XII. It's been an interesting (at least for me...) process of describing where I've been. I hope I've been able to convey it in a manner that puts the emphasis on God and not on me. I'll defer to the judgement of others on whether I have succeeded or not.
As of right now, 'Boo and Suzie were joined, in mid 2007, by a little brother. The "sports car" of my life has sped up again, but this time I'm hanging on. As my kids get older, I am growing in my understanding of what fatherhood is. There are so many times when I hear things come out of my mouth that I am saying to my kids that I could so readily see God saying to me and it is humbling. I am beginning to appreciate the wisdom of God regarding human sexuality. The demands that are placed on me through the mechanism of loving my kids far exceed anything that could be placed on me through any other means. And the rewards that I receive in loving my kids don't even make a "pit stop" at my brain on their way to crashing into my heart. On some level, I must appear at times to people who know me as an emotional wreck now that I am a parent because I am riding more of an emotional rollercoast now than the rest of my life combined. Case in point: just the other day I was moved to tears: (backstory) I consider it a healthy habit to reflect on the day of my death on a regular basis - not to obsess on it morbidly - but to regularly ask myself "If my death was imminent, how would I live today differently?". I then try to look at the reasons I'm not doing what I would do if I knew I was dying. But the other day I came up with a different spin on the whole thing. Normally, as I reflect on my death, I literally picture myself on my deathbed waiting to die. I try to imagine the doubts that might go through my mind, I try to imagine calling out to God in that time and I try to imagine how meaningless the things of the world will seem to me at that moment. I even imagine what my guardian angel will be doing for me at that time. But the other day a different thought came into my mind - rather than having a mental image from the perspective of me laying on my back looking at the ceiling (which I typically picture), I spontaneously had a picture of being outside of myself and seeing that I was surrounded by many people. The thought suddenly came to me that these were my children (grown up) and even grandchildren. I had a strong sense of their loyalty to me and that they were praying for me as I was dying. I had never pictured that before - I always thought of my death as being a solitary experience - just me and God. The feeling of being surrounded by their love moved me to tears. I received it as a foreshadowing of what "eye has not seen, ear has not heard... what God has ready for those who love him". The problem is I was sitting alone in the coffee shop when this happened and I just started crying for seemingly no reason. Ahh, the joys of parenting.
Thank you God for all you have done for me, are doing for me today and will do for me in the future. I love you.
NOC
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
My Spiritual Autobiography - Part XI
The year 2005 was finished on a high note with the birth of our third child - a girl. She arrived about two weeks before 'Boo turned one year old. We had made a plan to do a "VBAC" (Vaginal Birth After Cesarean) Delivery. The labor was fast and intense - we were wise from our past experience and conserved energy. We did everything the way we wanted to and guess what? "Suzie" (her nickname) got stuck in the exact same spot Theresa had and wasn't coming out. So it was another C-section. As we came to this realization with the doctor in the middle of that night, our attitude was one of resolve, not anger or frustration. Our doula said to me "This will be hard for your wife". I said "Yes, but at the end we have a living baby".
When Suzie came home, it was like someone had hit the accelerator on the sports car I was riding in without telling me they were going to do it. I was hanging on for dear life. The transition from one to two children opened yet another phase of my spiritual life. Namely, it opened the eyes to the true nature and extent of human falleness.
A little backstory - Suzie brought us her own share of sleep deprivation. She wasn't officially a "cholicy" baby, but she was about as close to the line as you can get without being official. With mom recovering from a C-section, the first six weeks of me at home juggling a 1-year old who hadn't learned to walk yet and a slightly cholicy newborn was "exciting" in the fullest sense of that term. I remember being vexed at how I was acting in the midst of the chaos that we had going at home. Frankly, I was acting like a monster, snapping at people (including the kids), choking back swear words, fighting back despair and being angry with the children. My mind was confused, particularly since in the days after we had lost Theresa, my wife and I had said so many times how we would "never" complain about sleep deprivation if we were blessed to be parents again. I lay awake many of those nights feeling a deep sense of shame that I would be so frustrated with the kids - me, who had seen his daughter die in front of him. What was wrong?
About that time another friend entered my life - Matt. Matt and I were rather unlikely acquaintances and in retrospect I am convinced it was active providence that we became friends when we did (or even at all). Matt was in a situation similar to mine, a bunch of small kids at home, total chaos. When I called over to his house to express my frustrations, there were times I could barely hear him on the phone because of the kids screaming in the background. He talked me through an experience that otherwise felt very isolating. When I talked to people who weren't doing what I was doing, they would say things like "Take time for yourself" or "Pray for God to give you the grace" or "It'll all be worth it in the end". But when I talked to Matt he would say to me (for instance as I was complaining to him on time about simultaneously having 'Boo teething, me with a back spasm and Suzie being up all night): "Here's what you do, you get a bottle of children's Motrin and a bottle of whiskey. You give the kids the motrin and you drink the whiskey and you'll be just fine". If that's not funny to you, you haven't parented several small kids at the same time.
But, more importantly than being an outlet for me to vent about my frustrations with my kids, Matt had a profound impact on me with his prodigious interest in Christian spirituality, which in hindsight, was likely born of necessity in him before me since his kids are older than mine. Matt handed me literally a half-dozen books that I might not otherwise have come into contact with - all spiritual classics written hundreds of years ago with titles like "Preparation for Death" (Alphosus Liguori), "The Sinner's Guide" (Venerable Louis of Granada), "The Dialogues" (St. Catherine of Siena), "Abandonment to Divine Providence" (J.P. de Cassaude) and our personal favorite, "The Spiritual Combat" (Lorenzo Scupoli). These books are hard to read - the language is blunt and to the point and the point is this - we are all far more fallen than we realize or (especially) like to admit. In the absence of the simple creature comforts we are so unconsciously dependent upon (safety, food, rest, etc.) we are capable of, to put it starkly, monstrous acts. Let me quote The Spiritual Combat: "The presumptuous man is convinced that he has acquired a distrust of himself and confidence in God, but his mistake is never more apparent than when some fault is committed. For, if he yields to anger and despairs of advancing in the way of virtue, it is evident that he placed his confidence in himself and not in God. The greater the anxiety and despondence, the greater is the certainty of his guilt." I'm not sure if I'm getting the vibe across right here, but the point I took when I was struggling with the kids is that I ought not to be surprised at how I was reacting to the circumstances, I had too big an image of myself going in. I needed to beg God to help me do better.
I found in these spiritual classics a polished treatment, written by people who have real life experience, of how to live your life consistent with the reality of your own fallen-ness and the greatness of the redemption that Christ died to bring us. To me it's a fine line, but the formula they convey is the bedrock of an authentic spiritual life - "distrust of self" (resulting from an ever increasing awareness of our fallenness) and "confidence in God" (because of God's great desire to bring us into communion with his divinity). To me, the distrust of self part is the battle to constantly recognize my need for God's help even with the simplest things, like taking care of little kids, and the confidence in God part is to develop in myself the radical assurance that God can bring "little old me" through even the most difficult situations (like taking care of little kids...). I don't know quite what I feel about all this just yet. But I know one thing, I'm never bored.
One question does spring into my mind: As I have read these books, I am constantly wondering why we don't hear this stuff at mass. I don't mean that as a shot against the Church or anybody, I just honestly wonder why not? These books present the Way of Christ in a manner that takes me from a childish self-centered faith to a self-aware adult God-centered faith. And I find that I need to read them again and again (albeit in little doses) every day to have the spiritual "leadership" that I desperately long for. Sometimes I wonder what the world would think if I told them that the best kept "secrets" of Catholic spirituality are in books that are never read at mass? No wonder people can't articulate Christian spirituality. They don't even know there is any!
When Suzie came home, it was like someone had hit the accelerator on the sports car I was riding in without telling me they were going to do it. I was hanging on for dear life. The transition from one to two children opened yet another phase of my spiritual life. Namely, it opened the eyes to the true nature and extent of human falleness.
A little backstory - Suzie brought us her own share of sleep deprivation. She wasn't officially a "cholicy" baby, but she was about as close to the line as you can get without being official. With mom recovering from a C-section, the first six weeks of me at home juggling a 1-year old who hadn't learned to walk yet and a slightly cholicy newborn was "exciting" in the fullest sense of that term. I remember being vexed at how I was acting in the midst of the chaos that we had going at home. Frankly, I was acting like a monster, snapping at people (including the kids), choking back swear words, fighting back despair and being angry with the children. My mind was confused, particularly since in the days after we had lost Theresa, my wife and I had said so many times how we would "never" complain about sleep deprivation if we were blessed to be parents again. I lay awake many of those nights feeling a deep sense of shame that I would be so frustrated with the kids - me, who had seen his daughter die in front of him. What was wrong?
About that time another friend entered my life - Matt. Matt and I were rather unlikely acquaintances and in retrospect I am convinced it was active providence that we became friends when we did (or even at all). Matt was in a situation similar to mine, a bunch of small kids at home, total chaos. When I called over to his house to express my frustrations, there were times I could barely hear him on the phone because of the kids screaming in the background. He talked me through an experience that otherwise felt very isolating. When I talked to people who weren't doing what I was doing, they would say things like "Take time for yourself" or "Pray for God to give you the grace" or "It'll all be worth it in the end". But when I talked to Matt he would say to me (for instance as I was complaining to him on time about simultaneously having 'Boo teething, me with a back spasm and Suzie being up all night): "Here's what you do, you get a bottle of children's Motrin and a bottle of whiskey. You give the kids the motrin and you drink the whiskey and you'll be just fine". If that's not funny to you, you haven't parented several small kids at the same time.
But, more importantly than being an outlet for me to vent about my frustrations with my kids, Matt had a profound impact on me with his prodigious interest in Christian spirituality, which in hindsight, was likely born of necessity in him before me since his kids are older than mine. Matt handed me literally a half-dozen books that I might not otherwise have come into contact with - all spiritual classics written hundreds of years ago with titles like "Preparation for Death" (Alphosus Liguori), "The Sinner's Guide" (Venerable Louis of Granada), "The Dialogues" (St. Catherine of Siena), "Abandonment to Divine Providence" (J.P. de Cassaude) and our personal favorite, "The Spiritual Combat" (Lorenzo Scupoli). These books are hard to read - the language is blunt and to the point and the point is this - we are all far more fallen than we realize or (especially) like to admit. In the absence of the simple creature comforts we are so unconsciously dependent upon (safety, food, rest, etc.) we are capable of, to put it starkly, monstrous acts. Let me quote The Spiritual Combat: "The presumptuous man is convinced that he has acquired a distrust of himself and confidence in God, but his mistake is never more apparent than when some fault is committed. For, if he yields to anger and despairs of advancing in the way of virtue, it is evident that he placed his confidence in himself and not in God. The greater the anxiety and despondence, the greater is the certainty of his guilt." I'm not sure if I'm getting the vibe across right here, but the point I took when I was struggling with the kids is that I ought not to be surprised at how I was reacting to the circumstances, I had too big an image of myself going in. I needed to beg God to help me do better.
I found in these spiritual classics a polished treatment, written by people who have real life experience, of how to live your life consistent with the reality of your own fallen-ness and the greatness of the redemption that Christ died to bring us. To me it's a fine line, but the formula they convey is the bedrock of an authentic spiritual life - "distrust of self" (resulting from an ever increasing awareness of our fallenness) and "confidence in God" (because of God's great desire to bring us into communion with his divinity). To me, the distrust of self part is the battle to constantly recognize my need for God's help even with the simplest things, like taking care of little kids, and the confidence in God part is to develop in myself the radical assurance that God can bring "little old me" through even the most difficult situations (like taking care of little kids...). I don't know quite what I feel about all this just yet. But I know one thing, I'm never bored.
One question does spring into my mind: As I have read these books, I am constantly wondering why we don't hear this stuff at mass. I don't mean that as a shot against the Church or anybody, I just honestly wonder why not? These books present the Way of Christ in a manner that takes me from a childish self-centered faith to a self-aware adult God-centered faith. And I find that I need to read them again and again (albeit in little doses) every day to have the spiritual "leadership" that I desperately long for. Sometimes I wonder what the world would think if I told them that the best kept "secrets" of Catholic spirituality are in books that are never read at mass? No wonder people can't articulate Christian spirituality. They don't even know there is any!
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