A La Carte Catholic

Some would call me an a la carte Catholic. Yes, I guess I do pick and choose from among the tenets of my formal religion to create my own spiritual edification.

(I hesitate to post on a topic that can elicit such strong feelings from others. Yet my viewpoint is part of who I am, and I doubt that it's singular only to me.)

I was brought up Catholic. I raise my children as Catholics. At heart, I believe in the general principles of my faith. But I don't believe that the only way to salvation is by going to church on Sunday (or by observing several others of the human-imposed regulations). For me, it's about how you live your life, how you treat others, the code you live by.

And that's just not black and white. I can't draw a line in the sand and say, "All you people over here, you're the "good" ones. But only if you're Christian and you go to church on Sundays. And all you on the other side, well you're on your own." That just doesn't make sense to me.

I've known so many very good people who don't go to church regularly or at all (for simplification, I'm picking on this one outward sign of religious obedience). They may be Christians or non-Christians. Maybe even atheists. But they have solid values; they're kind to others and to the earth. They do the right thing. The real right thing.

And, unfortunately, I've known a few pretenders who seem to do all the "right things." I'll leave it at that.

{What gets to me the most is the abuser who makes sure he goes to church every Sunday. And the spouse who stays with the abuser because she's Catholic, and Catholics aren't supposed to divorce. So, Catholics are supposed to martyr themselves for decades, succumbing to the violent whims of an abuser? Really? Is that what God really wants?}

So, yes, I subvert the rules with which I disagree. I may go to church or not on any given Sunday. But that day, and all the other days of the week, I believe I live my life as a good person with strong moral values. I try to treat others as I would like to be treated. When I make mistakes -- which, as an imperfect human, I most certainly do -- I admit to them and do what I can to set things right.

Yesterday was the first day of Lent. For Catholics, this 40-day season of prayer and fasting represents the 40 days that Jesus spent in the desert, tempted by Satan, prior to his death and resurrection. I chose not to attend mass yesterday, but my children and I will observe Lent by practicing abstinence. Jesus' abstinence involved fasting those 40 days. Our version involves denying ourselves something we enjoy.

I may be an a la carte Catholic, but at least I'm ordering from the menu.

Waiting...

... it's

... ... so

... ... ... ... slow

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... and

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... excruciating


out of my hands, beyond my control,
what i must do, what i don't want to do

Deconstruction

My son loves designing and constructing structures. Starting at a very young age, he would make a daily practice of building things out of Legos, Lincoln Logs, K'nex, anything.

But he was always heartbroken when the time came to tear them down and put the pieces away.

We reminded him that, by deconstructing his creations, he could be free to build even better ones the next time.

Isn't this true of so many things in life? Sometimes we need to completely deconstruct what exists, no matter how heartbreaking or strenuous the task is, in order to create an even better existence!

Today was Deconstruction Day! Granted, it was of a literal, physical sort -- not really the existential sort. But I like the metaphor.

After 10 years in our current house, and living with a large but inadequate-in-so-many-ways laundry room, we're finally creating it anew. Our contractor arrives tomorrow and will begin tearing up the floor, rewiring the electric, and more. In a couple of weeks, it will all be put back together again, but in a more functional and aesthetically pleasing way.

In preparation, I spent the morning removing the contents of the room (even those that have been hiding behind the washer and dryer for who-knows-how-long!). There's now an echo in the room when I speak.

Yes, I like Deconstruction Day. Now on to Reconstruction!










{Before: With typical clutter!}




{Deconstruction Day: Nearly empty!}

Performance Indicator

My husband bought a Megatouch Vortex recently. A touch-screen game system with 120 games divided into a few categories (like Cards, Puzzle, Action, Strategy, and Quiz), there's something for everyone. We each tend to gravitate toward different particular games, depending on our interests and strengths.

There's nothing like the thrill of being named "NEW CHAMPION!" and seeing your name in that #1 slot on the winner's board. (Oh yeah, just try to beat me at Fortune Taipei!)

I'm best at the puzzle games. And I love puzzles outside of the Megatouch, too. (Well, not necessarily jig-saw puzzles, but math/logic puzzles, puzzles about what educational placement is best for my children, etc.)

My husband is best at games of strategy. Makes sense. As a business owner, he's constantly strategizing about how best to run the company, win and keep clients, manage company funds, and more.

Really, we're all better at some tasks than others. And, ideally our jobs or occupations should fit our strengths (or vice versa).

So I got to thinking: why not make the Megatouch part of the process for vetting job applicants for our business? Sure! After deciding which game category best matches the skill set for a particular job, and then whittling down the applicant pool to the top few resumes we like best, we bring them all in for a half-hour round of Megatouch.

The applicant with the highest score wins the job!

She Crosses

Since September, I've been working on rebuilding a bridge.

A figurative bridge, it feels as real as any made of steel and brick and mortar.

But it's really a plan of action held together by communication.

For six years, my daughter has attended a school that we love, and she has been taught by capable, intelligent, loving teachers. But in early fall, it became clear that the time had come for her to move on.

Rather than simply pushing her out the door, my daughter's teachers and I worked out a plan for where she should go next, and for how to keep her appropriately challenged in the interim. We were not governed by legal documents -- rather, we were motivated by an earnestness to do do right by this child whom we all knew and loved so well. So we got together, talked about what we should do and could do, and decided on a plan through mutual agreement. Then we just did it.

In the meantime, I contacted the appropriate personnel at her future new school. Guided by legal requirements, formal meetings, and paperwork, we would develop a new plan for my daughter. But one member of the team and I had "had words" a year ago, and neither of us forgot it, though we did our best to set it aside. I resented the process, the formality and legality of the whole thing. Why couldn't we just take a look at this child, agree on what was best for her, put a plan into action, and then tweak it as necessary? I liked the warm, friendly, old way of doing things, and I didn't really want any part of this new, colder negotiation with (who I perceived as) one adversary and several strangers.

But for her sake, I proceeded.

Through the fall, we began rebuilding our educational relationship. In the winter, we began the long stretch from the firm foundations erected solidly on each side of the schism, with the intention of meeting somewhere in the middle.

As we reached across the expanse, it became clear that our bridge would not be the usual straight, smooth type. No, ours had zig-zags, temporary roadblocks, bumps, and dips. Some sections were smooth as glass. Others were pebbly and rough. Our bridge was completed way past the deadline.

By the end of last week, however, we'd finished. I'd done my part to rebuild a bridge that had been smoldering amid hard feelings, stubbornness, and frustration (mainly mine). With the completed bridge, we now had an understanding and a path to follow.

On Tuesday, my daughter took her first step on that bridge we built her. After just one hesitant step and a glance back, she proceeded to skip across!

Without her twin, without her parents beside her, she crossed it alone. She's on the other side now, and loves it there. And now that I know the people better on the other side, the ones whose hands my daughter is in for 7 hours a day, I couldn't be happier. These are good, kind teachers. They like my daughter and they want to see her succeed. They have gone out of their way to make her and me feel comfortable.

To my daughter: Anything for you, my love! This is my gift to you.

Unblocked

Opportunities arise sometimes at inopportune times.

While driving my children to their dentist appointment, I suddenly felt a rush of thoughts, along with the specific words with which to express them!

My hands on the steering wheel, and no paper in sight (I'd switched purses and forgot to transfer the little notepad I usually keep with me), I was forced to commit the words to memory. Using repetition and mnemonic devices, I was able to remember the first three or four words, phrases, even whole sentences for some time. But then more arrived, and I was at great risk of losing it all.

The process of committing my mind's contents from short-term memory to long-term memory required all my concentration. Fortunately, the girls in the back seat were talking to each other, and not to me. If I'd been expected to speak, my thoughts would have evaporated in an instant.

As soon as I checked in the girls at the front desk, I asked for some blank paper. The receptionist was kind enough to offer a clipboard, as well, to help with my mind dump.

Grateful, I began furiously writing down all that I could remember. Some were blog ideas. Some were story ideas. Some were one-word triggers. Others were entire sentences. Or lines of rhyme (a rare occurrence for me, and one that brings great excitement when it occurs!).

When I finished, I sat back in my waiting-room chair, breathed a deep sigh of relief, and smiled.

Finally, unblocked.

Grandparents

Years ago, when my husband and I were expecting our first child, we contemplated where we "really" wanted to live. Since I was planning a break from working in order to be a stay-at-home mom, and he consulted for a living, we could choose any city we wanted.

We moved to Cincinnati, just one suburb over from my parents and a mere two hours away from his. We wanted our child to be near his grandparents.

And here we've stayed.

As my three children grow, along with the number of experiences they've shared with their grandparents, I'm thankful we made this decision.

Because when they're with their grandparents, they get undivided attention. Their grandparents have the time to sit and do crafts with the kids--whereas I might get out the craft supplies and leave them to their own creations while I attend to other household tasks. Their grandparents take them to events that my husband and I might not otherwise think to attend. Their grandfather teaches them how to construct things out of wood and tools. Their grandmother teaches them now to cook and garden. Another grandmother teaches them how to the publishing world works. Their great-grandmother unwittingly teaches them that, with patience and kindness, one can listen to a story for the 12th time without displaying boredom. Their grandparents make special meals that are different from our usual menu. Their grandparents teach them about becoming who you are meant to be, without hurting others in the process. Their grandparents are there in a minute if someone is hurt or if someone wins a prize or if it's grandparents' day at school. Their grandparents play in the ocean and build sand castles all day.

Their grandparents stop what they're doing just to be with the children.

They have the wisdom that comes from living life longer than we have ourselves, from raising their own children, from making it through the sorrows of life and celebrating the little victories.

If we lived farther away from the children's grandparents, all those elements would still be present in their relationship, but fewer of the moments would exist. As it is, my children see their grandparents often. And their grandparents really know the kids.

Yes, my husband and I certainly could have chosen a more exciting city in which to live. Or a more exotic lifestyle. But we chose a nice, midwestern city with family nearby. Although we've made plenty of missteps in raising our children, I'm glad we got this one right.