This weekend I was AFK.  I was traveling on business to Tulsa Ok, and I brought the baby girl with me.  She still nurses at night and is very much “momma’s baby” so I was glad that my work allows me the freedom to blend being a mommy so wonderfully with being a web developer. 

Traveling with a baby can actually be a lot of fun.  Baby girl is 20 months and really a pro now at the ins and outs of airports.  We get window seating so that she can look out at the clouds and we are usually very lucky in that we don’t sit right next to cranky people like the gentleman who sat behind us for our first leg and rather loudly (rudely) announced to his seat mates, “I HATE sitting on a plan with wailing babies”.  Idiot, like anyone enjoys sitting near a crying baby, most especially baby’s parents who are having to deal with their child’s discomfort and their own angst at knowing that the other passengers are not really enjoying their bundle of joy.  But… I digress.  Most people, and everyone I sat next to this trip, are really great to babies and the mom’s traveling with them. 

On the first leg of our trip home we happened to sit next to a young man.  We passed a few words about life, he has a baby daughter.   We talked about the work we do, he works in radio and somewhere mentioned “ministry” so I was thinking he worked for a Christian radio show.  He talked about some audio books he is working on and I asked about the author, “You probably haven’t heard of him,  G.K. Chesterton”.

“Really!” I said, “oh that is so cool!”  And so it was that one of the “passwords” was said and it was just a question or two from one or the other of us before we determined that we are both “members of the club”.  It was remarkable how much in common we had.   My companion didn’t find it that remarkable as we were both part of the community of saints.  And he is right, we are both part of the Body of Christ. 

All in all it was a wonderful trip.  Our meeting was fantastically productive, it was good to see some old friends again.  Now I am back feeling really energized and ready to work and write and continue becoming who I am.

Sunday morning, like so many Sunday mornings, we went to mass at Holy Rosary Parish.  A lovely little gem tucked right in the middle of Portland.  Not far from the Rose Garden, not far from the river and just a little ways from the freeway.  But here it is, our parish.  Arguably the most traditional Roman Catholic Parish in the area.

Mass with four children under the age of nine is always an exercise in herding cats and divided attention.  On one hand I am there for me.  I am there to participate in the mass and worship God.  I am there to receive the Eucharist and be part of this wonderful thing that is ever ancient and ever new.  I am also there to teach my children the importance of being there.  To help school them in the Mass so that it will become part of who they are.   Then of course as part and parcel of parenting is the aspect of teaching my children to behave appropriately and not to be disruptive to others.

So Sunday mass, this past Sunday, was like so many other Sundays.  God blessed me with a few moments of uninterrupted prayer.  The children were actually very good.  The mass was lovely and the homily was informative.  Father Carl spoke on the readings of the day, applying them to our lives.  He explained some things we might not have known otherwise about the context of the gospel,  those subtle ways that our culture looks at things somewhat differently than they were 2000 years ago and this might lead us to judge the situation differently.

But the most interesting thing happened while I was leaving.  There were two women, visitors to the parish, and they were gushing. “Did you see the communion rail? No one has one of those anymore, when was the last time you saw one?”  “The veils!” “Most the congregation received on the tongue” “Look at all the children!” 

Being only a couple of feet away I turned and smiled, “So you like our parish?”.

“It’s beautiful!”

And it is beautiful.  Not just beautiful in that it has preserved it Catholicity, but beautiful in that it is alive.  The people are the true treasure of the Church.  The old people, the small children, the pregnant women and blushing youths.   When I look at my parish I don’t really see the beautiful tall stain glassed windows, I don’t see the heavy wood of the confessional doors or the communion rail.  I tend to forget the beautiful stone the altar is made of.  I see the crucifix, I see the tabernacle and I see the people around me.  Some friends, others I barely know but see week after week.  We have a beautiful parish.

We have just gotten back from a little vacation and started schooling again today.  Bloggin has taken a bit of a back seat to real life for the past week.

 Tomorrow I will be back to blogging and reading. 

BOY WANTED

WANTED – A boy that stands straight, sits straight, acts straight, and talks straight;

A boy whose fingernails are not in mourning, whose ears are clean, whose shoes are polished, whose clothes are brushed, whose hair is combed, and whose teeth are well cared for;

A boy who listens carefully when he is spoken to, who asks questions when he does not understand, and does not ask questions about things that are none of his business;

A boy that moves quickly and makes as little noise about it as possible;

A boy who whistles in the street, but does not whistle where he ought keep still;

A boy who looks cheerful, has a ready smile for everybody, and never sulks;

A boy who is polite to every man and respectful to every woman and girl;

A boy who does not smoke cigarettes and has no desire to learn how;

A boy who is more eager to know how to speak good English than to talk slang;

A boy that never bullies other boys nor allows other boys to bully him;

A boy who, when he does not know a thing says, “I don’t know,” and when has made a mistake says “I’m sorry,” and when he is asked to do a thing says “I’ll try”;

A boy who looks you right in the eye and tells the truth every time;

A boy who is eager to read good books;A boy who would rather put in his spare time at the YMCA gymnasium than to gamble for pennies in a back room;

A boy who does not want to be “smart” nor in any wise attract attention;

A boy who would rather lose his job or be expelled from school than to tell a lie or be a cad;

A boy whom other boys like;

A boy who is at ease in the company of girls;

A boy who is not sorry for himself, and not forever thinking and talking about himself;

A boy who is friendly with his mother, and more intimate with her than anyone else;

A boy who makes you feel good when he is around;

A boy who is not a goody-goody, a prig, or a little Pharisee, but just healthy, happy, and full of life;

This boy is wanted everywhere. The family wants him, the school wants him, the office wants him, the boys want him, the girls want him, all creation wants him.

In  The Children’s Book of Virtues William J. Bennet quotes the above “want ad” saying that it came from the early 20th century.   Ignoring the rather antiquated language I still find it something well worth reading.  I would hope that my two sons can be such “wanted men”.   The boy described above is a boring, good, modest young man.  I would hope that my daughters find them. 

Several months ago I wrote about modesty.  Not just as a function of dress, but as a character trait.  Modesty is the fruit of virtue of temperance.  It is sorely lacking in society today.   Modest men and women are so much more appealing to me then those who flaunt and parade their possessions, their accomplishments, their gifts.  

 I recently ran across an unpleasant situation with someone who is probably the best example of an immodest person I can imagine.  This man is someone who can hardly wait to tell you how great they are.  He loves to boast about his income, his physical prowess, his wit.  He will go on and on about how great he is, how “hot” his girlfriend is and worse he relishes the chance to “one-up” who ever he is with.    Why does he do this?  Because he is dead absolute afraid that someone will think he isn’t good enough.  He is terrified of being judged and found wanting.  He would rather lie about his income than admit he struggles some months to get by.  He would rather crush the other person in a conversation than admit they might have a valid point.  He would rather go into debt to buy clothing and pay for meals out than have someone think he isn’t successful.  It is a sad situation — he is running from his own reality.

His lack of modesty is off-putting.  He is trying to impress and he certainly succeeds in leaving an impression.  I could probably go into some detail about why he is this way.  How he was told “You’re great” time and time again, but never believed it deep down.  How much pride can you take in a victory when everyone gets a ribbon?  How can you believe your parents and teachers when they tell you “good job” and you know you didn’t try very hard.  The underlying lack of honest self esteem, the fear that someday you will be discovered as not as good as everything thinks and tells you are is crippling. But in the end we must all make a choice about old wounds.  Do we let them shape us or do we honestly face them and let them be shaped by us into something we can learn from?  I am a firm believer in letting go of how you got here and dealing with what you have.

So what I see in the man above is what I see in so many.  Desperate fear covered up by bravado.  Temperance would say “I am content with being the person God created me to be.”  So the need to display and brag melts away.   When one really understands that everything we are and everything we have is a gift from God then it becomes rather silly to be immodest about ourselves.  When we look very closely and see that what we have and what we accomplish are so small compared to what God has for us and what Christ has given for us it is almost embarrassing to try to point it out.

St. Augustine  said  “.. temperance is love giving itself entirely to that which is loved ..”   I think men have such a great capacity for doing good.  They want to serve, to be committed to a cause and a passion.  When nothing better is given them they will compete for stuff.  That is a sad thing, because the pursuit of having the most is endless and empty.   When you have no horn to listen to but your own you end up blowing it a bit too loud.   

It has been nearly a week since I have written anything.  The changes of this week have been stressful and I just feel like I want to hide, stay in my room, sleep until things are normal again.  But to the good I have been really enjoying just spending some more time with my husband.  It is sweetness to be with him.  Though it has thrown my usual schedule into disarray.

I did manage the past few weeks to get the book purchases made for homeschooling.  This feels like such an accomplishment.

No, I haven’t been able to write much about anything.  We have barely been keeping up with school.  Over the past two or three weeks my vacuum has died, my clothes washer died, my children have run through two different illnesses.  It has been exhausting.